Christmas came early to our house - almost a week early - since we opened gifts this morning. I got some cool stuff, some stuff I wanted, and some stuff I totally didn't expect - which is a pretty nice combination, don't you think?
We opened presents from mom & dad, even though we're seeing them in a few days. They didn't know we were coming home for Christmas (neither did we) when they were here at Thanksgiving (the Canadian one), so they left gifts at that time.
My mom is very organized.
So is my dad come to think of it.
Hmmm... so what mutant gene did I get? Shouldn't organization be (at least in part) genetic?
So now this afternoon everyone is frantically doing laundry and packing, while I'm heading out to my book club to discuss... how right is this?... A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.
God bless us, everyone!
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Hard at work, or hardly working?
I suppose from an external view, someone watching me working (writing) might think it doesn't like very hard - no sweating, no blisters, no painful personality clashes with office mates...
But I find it hard. I get anxious. I find it hard to sit still. I rewrite the same sentence again and again. Other sentences I completely gloss over because I don't even want to look at them, I'm convinced they're just that bad, beyond redemption. I wonder if what I'm writing right now fits with the rest of the paper. I wander off in tangents and start talking about things that detract from my central point... I mean, really detract. I wonder how I'm going to explain myself (especially hard when I don't know what I'm talking about!) I think of all the things I could be doing instead.
Writing is the absolute worst part of my job - especially when I'm under a time constraint.
And I just heard the "good" news that another paper was accepted. So that's two definites and a maybe for this year.
Pathetic thing is, it's the maybe that's driving me nuts right now.
But I find it hard. I get anxious. I find it hard to sit still. I rewrite the same sentence again and again. Other sentences I completely gloss over because I don't even want to look at them, I'm convinced they're just that bad, beyond redemption. I wonder if what I'm writing right now fits with the rest of the paper. I wander off in tangents and start talking about things that detract from my central point... I mean, really detract. I wonder how I'm going to explain myself (especially hard when I don't know what I'm talking about!) I think of all the things I could be doing instead.
Writing is the absolute worst part of my job - especially when I'm under a time constraint.
And I just heard the "good" news that another paper was accepted. So that's two definites and a maybe for this year.
Pathetic thing is, it's the maybe that's driving me nuts right now.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Sprechen Sie Englisch? Nein!
Studies show that the Chinese and Japanese both consume a low fat diet and fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
The French eat a relatively high fat diet but still have fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
Drinking red wine has been shown to be good for your heart. The Italians drink a good deal of red wine and fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
Japanese people do not drink much red wine, but they still have fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
The moral of the story?
It doesn't matter what you eat or drink. It's speaking English that kills you!
The French eat a relatively high fat diet but still have fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
Drinking red wine has been shown to be good for your heart. The Italians drink a good deal of red wine and fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
Japanese people do not drink much red wine, but they still have fewer die of heart attacks than Americans or the British.
The moral of the story?
It doesn't matter what you eat or drink. It's speaking English that kills you!
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
How small can you go?
Five years ago when I last bought a cell phone, I picked the smallest one available.
It looks monstrously huge beside my new phone - I'm afraid I'm gonna lose the thing - it's that small - makes me wonder how much smaller they can get - it really is just slightly larger than a man's sports watch.
It looks monstrously huge beside my new phone - I'm afraid I'm gonna lose the thing - it's that small - makes me wonder how much smaller they can get - it really is just slightly larger than a man's sports watch.
Goddamn FedEx!
Sitting here perched on the edge of my couch trying to get work done while I wait for the sound of the FedEx truck that's supposed to deliver new cellphones (Christmas present to ourselves).
Why am I perched here, watching the reflections from the street in the blank tv screen out of the corner of my eye while listening for the slightest rumble that would indicate a truck is pulling up? Because yesterday they claimed that no one was home when they tried to deliver when someone was indeed home and the delivery guy was too lazy to ring the doorbell or something. So I'm poised to pounce on him when he arrives so that I don't have to go through this bullshit again tomorrow.
I wouldn't even mind missing the guy and going to pick up the package at the depot, but its way the fuck out in Needham, which is a good half hour away - probably more like an hour if I tried it during rush hour.
I'm extra bitchy 'cause I have too much work - though that's mostly my fault. Monday night, my neighbor reminded me of the village christmas party, so I went (won a cool origami kit - hehe), but that transmuted into checking out 'the best wings in Watertown' - which were pretty damn good I must admit - and continuing with the Merlot. Then last night, I was at the department thing - which migrated to a dive bar near campus - four beer taps : two of which were Budweiser *shudder* - so I didn't get home till late. Maybe now that the afternoon is starting to trickle away, I'll actually get started on this week's work.
Or then again, maybe not...
Why am I perched here, watching the reflections from the street in the blank tv screen out of the corner of my eye while listening for the slightest rumble that would indicate a truck is pulling up? Because yesterday they claimed that no one was home when they tried to deliver when someone was indeed home and the delivery guy was too lazy to ring the doorbell or something. So I'm poised to pounce on him when he arrives so that I don't have to go through this bullshit again tomorrow.
I wouldn't even mind missing the guy and going to pick up the package at the depot, but its way the fuck out in Needham, which is a good half hour away - probably more like an hour if I tried it during rush hour.
I'm extra bitchy 'cause I have too much work - though that's mostly my fault. Monday night, my neighbor reminded me of the village christmas party, so I went (won a cool origami kit - hehe), but that transmuted into checking out 'the best wings in Watertown' - which were pretty damn good I must admit - and continuing with the Merlot. Then last night, I was at the department thing - which migrated to a dive bar near campus - four beer taps : two of which were Budweiser *shudder* - so I didn't get home till late. Maybe now that the afternoon is starting to trickle away, I'll actually get started on this week's work.
Or then again, maybe not...
Saturday, December 11, 2004
But what are we without bodies?
Reading an essay by Brian Aldiss on machines in SF when he describes a novel as follows: "In Tom Maddox's novel Halo, several characters are ingested by Aleph, a controlling artificail super-intelligence installed on an orbiting satellit. Jerry Chapman is one such character. He asks Aleph what became of his body. 'It was...recycled. A robot tended your remains...'"
How is Jerry Chapman a character? He exists, presumably, as a series of memories, ones that belonged to him when his body was living. But he owes his existence to a machine. Even when he tries to recall those memories, he needs the machine to do so since he doesn't exist outside the machine. Even if his memories are 'his', they belong to a 'him' that existed with a body. Once they are stored in a machine, can he really be said to be different from the machine? Isn't claiming that Jerry is a character a bit like reducing him to the level of a computer program? He can "run" while he's in the computer - talk, remember, reason - but without the computer, he can't do anything, can he? He's not independent. Can he be considered a character if he doesn't have an independent existence? If he can't do anything, in essence, can't be detected as existing outside the computer, is he not then just one dimension of that computer?
Does any character exist without a body? Or is it just the characters with bodies that make the most interesting characters - otherwise it's just all self-involved stream of consciousness drivel...
How is Jerry Chapman a character? He exists, presumably, as a series of memories, ones that belonged to him when his body was living. But he owes his existence to a machine. Even when he tries to recall those memories, he needs the machine to do so since he doesn't exist outside the machine. Even if his memories are 'his', they belong to a 'him' that existed with a body. Once they are stored in a machine, can he really be said to be different from the machine? Isn't claiming that Jerry is a character a bit like reducing him to the level of a computer program? He can "run" while he's in the computer - talk, remember, reason - but without the computer, he can't do anything, can he? He's not independent. Can he be considered a character if he doesn't have an independent existence? If he can't do anything, in essence, can't be detected as existing outside the computer, is he not then just one dimension of that computer?
Does any character exist without a body? Or is it just the characters with bodies that make the most interesting characters - otherwise it's just all self-involved stream of consciousness drivel...
Small increments
I just spent five minutes waiting for the scanner to finish so that I could unplug the scanner cord and move the computer over 5 inches - yes, five! - so I could plug into the printer to print what I just scanned. Sheesh!
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Just when you thought the world was going to hell in a handbasket...
...there comes a woman like this - amazing!
I know I would've been very, very tempted. My student loans are at least twice that right now, and the thought of not having to work till I'm 80 to pay them off would've tempted me bad... though I also have a fully functioning guilt complex, so I guess I wouldn't have kept it either.
Reading about that lady makes up for the penny-pinching jerks today at Old Navy - I hate Old Navy - why did I even go into the store? But I did. And I found something I actually liked (christmas shopping don't you know) so that forced me to actually locate a cash register at the front in order to pay for it... but, as is usually my luck, I end up behind someone who starts pulling everything BACK out of her bag, checking tags because she thinks the cashier is ripping her off.
So I go to the next line, 'cause I can see it's gonna take a while. Then the lady at the front of that line starts whining about how she can't use both of her discount cards on one purchase and insists on separating her items into two purchases... after they've already been rung in! Grrrrr. Geez lady, its Old Navy, whatcha gonna save $2? Tell you what, I'll buy you a latte and we'll call it even, k?
Bah humbug!
I know I would've been very, very tempted. My student loans are at least twice that right now, and the thought of not having to work till I'm 80 to pay them off would've tempted me bad... though I also have a fully functioning guilt complex, so I guess I wouldn't have kept it either.
Reading about that lady makes up for the penny-pinching jerks today at Old Navy - I hate Old Navy - why did I even go into the store? But I did. And I found something I actually liked (christmas shopping don't you know) so that forced me to actually locate a cash register at the front in order to pay for it... but, as is usually my luck, I end up behind someone who starts pulling everything BACK out of her bag, checking tags because she thinks the cashier is ripping her off.
So I go to the next line, 'cause I can see it's gonna take a while. Then the lady at the front of that line starts whining about how she can't use both of her discount cards on one purchase and insists on separating her items into two purchases... after they've already been rung in! Grrrrr. Geez lady, its Old Navy, whatcha gonna save $2? Tell you what, I'll buy you a latte and we'll call it even, k?
Bah humbug!
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
I hate New England
well, at least during weather like this - rain in winter - wtf is that all about anyway?
the worst isn't even the cold, or the fact that my house and car both leak when it rains... what sucks the most is this cheap-ass town doesn't have street lighting and I found myself stomping through puddles that I couldn't even see on the way home...
grrrrrrrrr
the worst isn't even the cold, or the fact that my house and car both leak when it rains... what sucks the most is this cheap-ass town doesn't have street lighting and I found myself stomping through puddles that I couldn't even see on the way home...
grrrrrrrrr
Boston and St. John's
Listening to GBS's "Boston and St. John's" and feeling homesick, even if I come from the other end of the country.
Hear it.
Boston and St. John’s
Released June 1999
(written by Doyle)
Girl, don’t tell me that it’s morning
Can we keep the curtains drawn
I haven’t given you fair warning
But our ship, she sails at dawn
Chorus
It’s true I must be going but I swear I won’t be long
There isn’t that much ocean between Boston and St. John’s
I’m a rover and I’m bound to sail away
I’m a rover can you love me anyway?
And if some suitor comes approaching
Will you let him through your door
And what if I return half broken
Will you still want me anymore?
Chorus
Bridge
Close your eyes and dream
Tell me what you see
Tell me what you want
Just tell me that you’ll wait for me
Chorus
From GBS site
Hear it.
Boston and St. John’s
Released June 1999
(written by Doyle)
Girl, don’t tell me that it’s morning
Can we keep the curtains drawn
I haven’t given you fair warning
But our ship, she sails at dawn
Chorus
It’s true I must be going but I swear I won’t be long
There isn’t that much ocean between Boston and St. John’s
I’m a rover and I’m bound to sail away
I’m a rover can you love me anyway?
And if some suitor comes approaching
Will you let him through your door
And what if I return half broken
Will you still want me anymore?
Chorus
Bridge
Close your eyes and dream
Tell me what you see
Tell me what you want
Just tell me that you’ll wait for me
Chorus
From GBS site
Monday, December 06, 2004
Happy Holidays?
ack! I just realized there are only two more weekends till Christmas... and not only have I only bought 1 - one! - gift, but I also have to prepare for international travel right after the second weekend.
Oh, no, not so jolly a thought, this is... not so jolly at all!
Oh, no, not so jolly a thought, this is... not so jolly at all!
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Please don't get my hopes up for nothing
Please, please, please, don't get me excited and still not resolve the lockout. Please.
The NHLPA says it's ready to go back to the bargaining table - I'm almost afraid to watch....
If they talk and then it breaks down again anyway, it would be almost as bad as it was to watch the Flames lose the cup last year.
The NHLPA says it's ready to go back to the bargaining table - I'm almost afraid to watch....
If they talk and then it breaks down again anyway, it would be almost as bad as it was to watch the Flames lose the cup last year.
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