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taking it personally – Page 23 – Words' End

Self-amusement.

Heh. I think I’ve finally gotten so fed up with the misinformed propagandistic drug-war polemic that I’m becoming a self-appointed spokesperson for correct information. [Article is not mine; two of the many comments are.]

Not that I’ll get it right every time. But, damn. When academics stop thinking and start implicitly equating a glass of wine with alcoholism, it’s a sad scene.

Although this isn’t new: just this morning E. and I were talking about scientific nomenclature. So much of it is legacy code, based on incorrect assumptions. As just one example based on Ethan’s current coursework, different algae are often grouped together by being named the same thing. Another example is “inorganic carbon,” another name for carbon dioxide, most of which is – well – organic. The thing is, even when we realize our mistake the language stays the same. For HUNDREDS OF YEARS. This is actively damaging, because we end up teaching and learning incorrect information, and then have to unlearn it, which is very difficult to do. Language defines and constantly mediates our world for us, and so learning why our naming practices are incorrect requires reorganizing a world view.

autumn.

Sometimes I get sad. Or SAD. Wellbutrin helped last season, and I’m counting on it this season too, but just now…

it’s bedtime.

Things will be better tomorrow.

It’s odd to be this detached from myself, and to feel okay about being sad. Maybe today’s first meeting of a dissertation-writing support group had something to do with it.

right. bedtime.

Post-midnight conversation.

E: “….Wow. OK, I don’t know why I thought I needed to talk to God just now, but now that I have I’m going to bed.”

V: *dies laughing* “Can I post this?”

Look! a meme!

This looks like way too much fun, and my love is staying up late working, so it was obviously ordained somewhere that I do this. Nevermind that my lower back is killing me, did I mention FUN?

Speaking of hurting backs, here’s a PSA for my throngs of female readers, courtesy of my dear friend, Colleen The Most Amazing Massage Therapist, Like, Ever. Apparently, menstrual back pain happens [at least in part] because the softer tissues in your pelvis get a little looser, presumably so that some day you can dilate. So your whole pelvis gets a little wonky and weak, but there’s still all that weight on it – and so the lower back muscles clench around it, compensating. A little while like that, and misery sets in. You lose a lot of magnesium during that time as well, I’m not sure if it’s a side effect or a cause of the loosening. So if you take magnesium supplements (250mg, as far as I can tell from the web) for a couple of days before your period is due and then every day until you no longer need it, the pain should be greatly reduced or even not rear its ugly head at all.

Now, if only I’d remembered all that this month. Anyway.

1) My mother once: had the most infectious laugh that rang through the echoey woods when we went mushrooming.

2) Never in my life: have I been anywhere in Eastern Europe aside from the USSR, despite living almost at the border with Romania for the first 13 years of my life.

3) When I was five: I was probably still talking about that time when I was four and this cast-iron table fell on my toes and TWO of them BROKE and I had a CAST and would hop to the bathroom every morning, holding on to my dad’s hands as he walked backwards. Seasons changed, and soon we were getting up in the dark – I remember that hallway vividly still.

4) High School was: mostly pretty fun for the first two years in New York (Queens), mostly miserable for the last two years an hour north of Los Angeles. But then, those two years were miserable on many counts, so it’s probably not the high school’s fault. But I never did find my kind of crowd until halfway through college.

5) I will never forget: my dad. I’m very much like him.

6) I once met: Marcello Mastroianni. He came to give a talk at the University of Padova, which is a 20 minutes’ train ride from Venice, where I was studying-abroad. Being a college student, and having freshly found my own skin comfortable, I had no fears and so asked him some questions (albeit after the Q&A was over and people were going home). He was indulgent and wanted to know more about me. He seemed to be amused by the foreigner fan girl. This was about a year before he died.

7) There’s this person I know who: bicycled all across the United States. In fact, there are two of them. And they’re both girls. And they both rock my world.

8) Once, at a bar: I had a Bloody Mary. I was 16 and in Vermont with my brother (11 years older) and his then-company, on a ski trip. This was smack in the middle of a tech bubble. :) Anyway, this wasn’t binge or anything, alcohol was never taboo in my house, he just thought I’d like it. He knows me well; this remains my favorite cocktail.

9) By noon I’m usually: either really pleased with the progress I’ve made so far (on whatever it is, weekend or weekday), or guiltily flogging myself to pick up speed already.

10) Last night: I watched “I, Robot” with Ethan. It didn’t suck.

11) If I only had: money. Lots and lots of money, so that I could found a university and invite all my friends and acquaintances and other cool people who are being mistreated and/or vastly underappreciated by their respective universities. And pay them well, and take them on totally inspirational retreats to see wonders, and give them all ponies. Oh, and the standard: buy mom a house, take care of various debts, travel the world.

12) Next time I go to church/temple: it will probably be a temple in the desert or a regional variation thereof.

13) Terri Schiavo: was a slave.

14) I like: my cat Aki. A lot. In fact, I should post more pictures of him on the internet.

15) When I turn my head left, I see: the window through which Aki has disappeared onto the roof, where he likes to hang out. Yeah, my heart lurches, although it’s not as bad as it used to be; it’s a good training for when we have kids.

16) When I turn my head right, I see: Ethan typing away at his desk, with a still-full bowl of chowder in front of him.

17) You know I’m lying when: I’m lying. I can’t lie to save my life.

18) In grade school: I got more or less perfect grades in everything except sometimes behavior and/or citizenship. I also took all that my die-hard-commie teacher said at face value, and turned into quite a self-righteous little snitch until my parents realized what was going on and fixed it. Sort of. There were many things about social interactions that I learned on my own during that time.

19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare: I’d be Kate. Incidentally, I love the name Kate.

20) By this time next year: I sure as hell hope that dissertation writing is proceeding apace.

21) A better name for me would be: n/a. My name suits me well.

22) I have a hard time understanding: most U.S.-born people.

23) If I ever go back to school I’ll: hahahahaha! You’re funny. Back to school?

24) You know I like you if: I awkwardly try to make light-hearted conversation, and/or I try to feed you.

25) If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: that depends on what the award is for.

26) I hope that: all of Ethan’s insane dreams will be realized enough in our lifetime to make for a very, very cool world to live in.

27) Take my advice: or don’t.

28) My ideal breakfast is: cheese. Oh, a real breakfast? These days, eggs and snausages, or Neil Gaiman’s porridge. That stuff’s amazing.

29) A song I love, but do not have is: “Home” by Mashina Vremeni (Time Machine). They’re Russian.

30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: that you go there in the midst of farmers’ market season and eat your fill of sour cherries. And go to the Valley of the Roses.

31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: are all things I do not have. What?!

32) Why won’t anyone: do their goddamn research before posting drivel on the interweb?

33) If you spend the night at my house: Ethan and I will make you an amazing dinner.

34) I’d stop my wedding: if one of my loved ones was hurt or otherwise in enough trouble to need me. Then I’d start it again.

35) The world could do without: willful ignorance.

36) I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: …

37) My favorite blonde is: Colleen. She’s spectacularly blonde. She really is a landmark.

38) Paper clips are more useful than: kiwi fuzz. Why do kiwi fruit have fuzz? It gets all in your teeth and everywhere, and it’s abrasive.

40) And by the way: we went wild mushroom hunting last weekend, brought home like a dozen different varieties, and didn’t poison ourselves.

41) The last time I was drunk, I: n/a. I’ve never been drunk.

42) My grandmother always: loved me, when she knew who I was. Now she can dimly remember, I think.

Leave it to politics

…to make me post again. I’ve been meaning to post other things as well, but blogging has fallen by the wayside. again.

From Rob Kampia at the Marijuana Policy Project, a policy reform organization lobbying for medical pot laws:

On October 7, Steven Tuck, a California medical marijuana patient who fled to Canada to avoid going to jail after being raided for growing his own marijuana, was snatched from a hospital by Canadian authorities, driven to the border with a urinary catheter still attached, and turned over to U.S. authorities for prosecution. He was held in jail for five days without medical treatment and without having his catheter removed.

He was released from a Seattle jail to seek medical care last Thursday, but when his treatment is over, he must return to California to face a federal marijuana charge.

Tuck, an Army veteran, used marijuana to treat the chronic pain stemming from a 1987 parachute accident in the Army. Is this how our government rewards its veterans?

Well? Is it?

May their god damn the powers that be to their respective visions of hell. And while we’re at it, Canada, wtf? YOU ARE NOT THE FIFTY-FIRST STATE. Tell them to go fuck off. Or have you finally lost your spine?

If you’re as galled at this as I am, or even a little, please spread it far and wide as a personal favor to me. More about the case is here.

Internettings.

Well, I was going to write up a thorough account of the rest of the summit, but am a bit blogged out – if you’re interested, see what I wrote about it on the VHL blog. A large chunk of that is my previous post to this blog, so it’s not as long as it looks; on the other hand, I also link from the VHL post to the summit notes on TADA which are long but are also worth a read.

After the summit was over, I spent the weekend in rural VA not far from Charlottesville with a friend named Free who fully lives up to his name. It was lovely; there were three dogs, a horse and many children and friends, open-air fires at night and marshmallows and hot dogs roasted on long sticks. And I got to participate in prepping the foundation for a greenhouse. The air was quiet and clear, and the stars looked alien: I couldn’t make out any familiar constellations because most of the sky was taken up by tall tall trees, it was like peering up through a window to the multiverse.

Meanwhile, some intensely cool stuff is being documented on the net. For example, here’s a Quicktime movie of the Northern Southern lights from space and an .mpg movie of solar activity, both courtesy of NASA.

Also, omigod, a new Beowulf is coming out in 2007 or so, and Neil Gaiman has writing credits. !

Having missed the opening one-two-punch weekend of Serenity and Mirrormask, I’m very much looking forward to seeing both.

anniversaries.

Last week, on the autumn equinox, was our first-first wedding anniversary. (We got married in the fall, and again on the spring equinox of this year.) We went camping, journeyed through the woods, gathered large sticks and cooked hobo stew wrapped in aluminum foil, drank prosecco out of the bottle and watched the fire crackle its way through the dark dark evening. Everything was alive, down to the myriad of spiders everywhere. I stayed away from the spiders and clung to my love, thankful and still amazed at the fortune of meeting him.

Today is my grandmother’s 90th birthday. Was, technically, as she was born in Baku (but is Jewish, not Azerbaijani) and it’s well past midnight there. I talked with her on the phone, and am pretty sure she didn’t really know who I was. She’s in that stage of Alzheimer’s where she sounds both lucid and calm, but that’s because she’s gotten used to the denial of going with the flow of whatever we say. Something to the effect of, You’re my granddaughter? Oh, that’s nice, dear. How nice of you to call.

Talking to her these days is creepy and sad. There’s no point in talking often: I’m a bad granddaughter, haven’t felt particularly close to her since my early teens and was terrible at writing letters from America when she was still living in Kishinev with my grandfather. He passed away in 1997, and she moved here in… 2000? 1999? something like that.

But they did help raise me, and I have many memories of their apartment with its dusty books and knick-knacks and tiny well-loved kitchen and grape vines overgrowing the windows and pigeons nesting in the vines. My grandmother read many newspapers and cooked tasty cheese wafers.

She had stunning black hair and a great sense of style. She flirted with my grandfather by leaning out the window, so that her shoulder-length mane would fall to the side like Rapunzel’s.

She waited for her husband to come back from world war 2 while caring for their three children with one other woman’s help. She watched one of her two sons slowly waste away when he, a chemist, was stricken by chemical poisoning and his workplace didn’t even acknowledge that this was possible, and didn’t support him at all.

She taught, first in schools (history) and then at the university (history of the Party). Her long-ago university students came to visit her up until she left the country. She played bridge with grampa and her friends. She would sit there and watch me eat, smiling with delight. She didn’t really drink, but smoked a pack a day until, I think, grampa died and she moved out of their place to a friend of the family’s, waiting for her emigration documents. They’d lived in that apartment since 1953.

She’s had a dignified, full life. Every once in a while the blind injustice of her chronic brain disease washes over me in a wave of dread.

Isn’t she beautiful?

Good Monday morning, you lazy parental types.

While looking around Inside Higher Ed, I came across an old article about Princeton’s new policy of automatically granting a one-year leave from tenure track when a faculty member becomes a parent. I’d been delighted to read this back in August: one thing I don’t like at all about academe in the U.S. is the default assumption that people who make teaching and research their life’s work aren’t entitled to a life outside of the university.

Many more comments have been posted since I last read the article, and I boggle. Some of the people who choose to be “child-free” actually dare to imply that having children makes for lazy academics. That having children means you aren’t dedicated to education and research. I’d like to see them be responsible for a baby and hold down an exhausting full-time job at the same time, for just a month or so. I wonder if they’d change their mind then.

And spare me the “we have too many people on this planet” argument. Fertility is well below replacement rate (2.1 is said to keep a population stable) in a large portion of the world, including most of Europe and North America. The places with particularly high fertility rate (Niger tops the CIA World Factbook chart, with 7.55 children born per woman on the average) also have a huge infant mortality rate.

tuesday morning.

I’ve been up since 5: E. and I are trying to get into this habit, so that he can make it to his 8am (twice a week) and 9am (thrice a week) classes. It’s beautiful: circumstances encourage me to get up, get dressed and washed and maybe even breakfasted early in the morning so that I can take my love to the bus. Then, the day slowly opens up with light and noises, and I can drink another cup of oversteeped tea with milk.

I’m finally caught up on work-related email. Today is a day of planning: what conference calls-for-papers would be good to respond to, what reading I’d like to do, what my technical involvement might be. This semester is the platonic ideal of the entire two-year job gig: we’re far enough along that the technical infrastructure is baaaasically there, and the kickass encoder of yore is back for another semester of fellowship that will allow him to (hopefully) finish encoding our longest text. This leaves me with a lot of time to think, and the privilege isn’t lost on me.

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