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  • Silvertree

    Mod post: No wishlist posts in blogs

    By Silvertree

    Please be aware that we do not permit swap-related content on profiles or in blogs. Please post this content only in the For Sale, Swaps, and Wanted forums, or in the Wishlists topic. ~from Swapping 101  Thanks!
    • 5 comments
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Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

From the desk of Grad Student Support Staff

For those just tuning in, read the entry directly below this one first for the sake of clarity.   So, earlier today, D. calls and asks if I’ve had a chance to check my e-mail. (Again, unexpected; we had talked for almost three hours last night.) Umm, no; so I pulled out my trusty little iBook and logged into the house network.   University of Colorado Health Sciences Center sent him a “we want you to come look at our PhD program!” invitation.   Again, more background is needed: a well-known university back east whose name I will not mention (but which rhymes with Rons Bopkins) sent a very similar “let us wine and dine you so we can see if we’re mutually compatible” invitation to him two years ago. After wining, dining, and forming what seemed to be a mutually good impression, they said “thanks, but no thanks”. I had a front-row seat for that particular emotional roller coaster; he had many reasons for wanting to go there, starting with the fact that it’s a damned good school, and he would have been entering directly in to their PhD program. The other reasons were equally valid, but intensely personal, so I won’t mention them here; just take it as given that the rejection letter was equal to a well-aimed gut punch, and leave it at that.   Two years and a really traumatic move later (did I mention that he had a broken leg at the time?), he gets this invitation from a school that he could have applied to two years ago, and saved a whole lot of heartache.   For the record, that’s essentially a transcription of him being Gloomy and Russian; the views expressed by the Grad Student do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this blogger, et cetera. The bioinformatics program at University of Colorado was in its infancy two years ago; he could not have gotten the education that he felt he needed from the program at that point, and I supported his decision to go somewhere that would best serve his needs. Whether that was Baltimore or Minneapolis, it didn’t matter; the CU-HSC was not where he needed to be, and that was that.   The program really appears to have gotten its collective act together in the intervening span; they’ve got a good balance of faculty, and the curriculum seems to be reasonably sound. And again, he has reasons to find the idea of a PhD bearing the name University of Colorado rather appealing -- personal ones, but very real.   There are several things to consider, though, that have nothing to do with wants and wishes; hard, cold, practical matters that won’t allow themselves to be ignored. Moving is expensive, to start with; moving up there was costly, moving back would be no less so, and make it borderline impossible to buy property. (Of course, this would probably apply to anywhere other than Minneapolis or Chicago; Columbus is just far enough away to make U-Haul look like a nightmare.) CU’s program has come along way, but it’s still not as well established as the other schools to which he has applied. There’s the issue of how much of a stipend they’re willing to free up, and what they would require as far as TA and RA duties.   On the other hand, Denver is Home, and this place has been calling him back ever since he left. He has never stopped being homesick for the place where the streets know his name. When he got out of the Air Force, he moved back and was determined to never leave again, but life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans. He has contacts in both the math and computer science departments who could probably be counted on to put in a good word for him. And there’s the obvious appeal of spending a two or three more years in the rodina before taking up the life of the academic gypsy.   On the third hand (he commented that he needs as many hands as Kali for this discussion, at which I told him to get out of my brain, because I was thinking the same thing) ...he really doesn’t want to leave Minneapolis. It’s a good school, and even when he’s whining about the work load, he admits that he is getting the education that he wanted from it. He loves the city -- not in the same way as Denver; Denver is Home, but Minneapolis could become a home -- and he knows that I have come to love it as well. Financially, Minneapolis makes the most sense; moving expenses would largely be limited to a small truck, beer and other beverages, and pizza for those who were helping out. The housing market is starting to come down a bit, we have a good support network, and did I mention the fact that we both really like the city?   Plus, there’s the uncomfortable feeling that he’s backtracking. He could have applied to CU two years ago and avoided a lot of grief, or so those insidious little voices that make introspective people’s lives uncomfortable keep telling him. He wasted time. He’s backtracking. Things like that. I, of course, could not allow that to go unaddressed, and said “if you go to the grocery and buy a piece of fruit that you like, but it’s not ripe yet, it isn’t backtracking to put it on the counter for a couple of days until it’s ready.” He liked that analogy, and countered “And, in the meantime, you still have to eat something.” I don’t expect the ugly little voice to shut up quite this quickly, but at least I could get to to pipe down for a while.   All in all, though ...Minneapolis. It’s a good place, and one where we both feel very at home. Of course, it isn’t up to him; it’s up to the Admissions Committee, and the fact that the professor for whom he works is on the committee doesn’t make a difference. His professor is not That Kind of Guy. D's application will be given no more favorable consideration than anyone else's -- laudable in principle, but kind of annoying in practice. And since I'm not the sort of person to send off e-mails saying things like "do you know how many hours he spent coding on that ^$ project of yours yesterday?", we're pretty much stuck with crossing our fingers and gritting our teeth.   However, all of this falls under the heading of “long term planning”; today’s issue was far more immediate. Logistics for the CU-HSC recruitment thing.   His proposal was that I fly up just before he had to come down for the interview weekend, take care of Maggie Waggy, stay until Spring Break, and the two of us (three, if you count the pup) drive back down to Denver -- which translates to him driving and me handling Maggie, as well as food and beverage distribution. Map wrangling isn't necessary; he's made the trip many times before, and it's impossible to get lost in Nebraska. There's nowhere to go.   It sounds like a wonderful idea; however, my id and superego are about to come to blows over it, while my ego stands there going “I am so not getting in the middle of that.” The reason for this emotional donnybrook is that there are a couple of craft shows that look like good prospects for me, and they fall right smack in the middle of this timeframe.   I managed to make a decent amount last year, despite the fractured nature of my schedule. I only did two shows that weren’t my usual Friday “set up at the Cafe and see what happens”. This tells me that I’m building some necessary momentum, and now is the time to get more aggressive about booking as many events as I can. I want to get my trademark, and my website, and be able to take my act on the road in a much broader sense. All of that requires money, though, and that means getting myself out to more events where people are going to be interested in spending it. Preferrably on me.   I know that I won’t be letting him down by telling him no, and he has already told me that I shouldn’t feel guilty about doing so if that’s what I feel is necessary. He knows me well enough to know that it's not going to work that way, but form requires us to say it to the other. It’s just that I dislike being pinned between desire and necessity. I want to spend the time with him. I always want to spend time with him; we’ve known one another for almost 20 years and have never tired of one another’s company. I just can’t be in two places at once, though, and it hurts that I have to choose between fulfilling an immediate want and doing what is best for my business, myself, and Us in the long run.   I know what I’m going to have to say, and I’m already disliking the saying of it.   Either way, we will see each other before the end of February, and either I’ll be flying up for break, or he’ll drive down. Or possibly, I’ll end up driving up, as I have not had the best of luck flying out of DIA lately.   Why can’t we just get to a point where the biggest decision that we have to make is whose turn it is to do the dishes?
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

2
Port Wine and the Morning Star
 

The Good, the Bad, and the Stinky

I smell like pirate crotch, courtesy of Masabakes, which is a delightful scent if you want to drive away your crab lice. No. No. That's not fair. It'll curl your eyebrows, but I really DO like it. Does it make me weird that I enjoy the really dark, feral, ferociously stinky scents?   I put on Satyr before bed last night and woke up in the morning with that gleeful sort of Christmas morning glow. I had no idea why, until I raised the sheets and caught a whiff of myself, and what the perfume had done cooking under the bedclothes all night. It went from the smell of a very well-groomed goat to being the smell of three days worth of pitilessly good sex crammed into eight hours. Subconsciously from the smell I'd been expecting to find another person in the bed, and it smelled like they were sex-ay. This Satyr owns a disco in the hip downtown district, baby!   Curiously, they make a killer root beer float.
Naamah_Darling

Naamah_Darling

0
Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

The Long and Winding Road, take 2...

Well, I have confirmed that the lengthy, insightful, and occasionally witty blog entry that I composed last night / this morning (it was sunrise when I finished, so...) has, in fact, been eaten by the database.   Grr arrgh, indeed.   I suppose that it gives me a chance to write something perhaps better, especially in light of this morning's phone call (that’s, what ...five for this week?)   Let me start with some background: the man about whom I am very serious is separated from me by about 900 miles. Twenty hours drive time -- even if you drive like I do, Nebraska never ends -- or two and a half by air from where I live. (Although, after having gone to Minneapolis four times in the past 12 months for an average of three weeks at a shot, “where I live” is subject to a broad definition at this point.) He’s a graduate student at University of Minnesota in the process of finishing up his second MS. The field in which he is studying is biostatistics, which is a branch off of the larger discipline of mathematical biology -- a subject which fascinates me and apparently causes our friend Vanessa’s head to explode if she tries to comprehend what he’s doing.   His first Masters was earned here, at University of Colorado - Denver; computer science with a bioinformatics focus (bioinformatics being the computer science powered side of mathematical biology.) Since he truly loves mathematics, and the CU Health Sciences Center biostatistics program was in its infancy, he elected to go to U of M for his next step -- which was supposed to be a PhD, but U of M decreed that he needed a biostatistics MS before entering their PhD program. So, he’s getting the second MS out of the way, and applying to several different PhD programs, including U of M’s.   He also had a First Author publication before he got his first MS, has been an author on three more papers since, with another in the works. The man is both smart and driven.   No, I’m not at all proud of him; why do you ask?   At any rate, the bane of his existence of late -- and therefore mine by proxy -- has been his PhD applications, handled by a service known as SOPHAS; the Schools of Public Health Applications System, also known as “the circle of Hell that Dante left out because it was too grim". (Thank you for the turn of phrase, dearest.) Or, as we have taken to calling it: SOPH-ASS. If it seems that neither one of us is particularly impressed by their service, you’re not wrong. Don’t take my opinion as gospel, though; here are D’s own words on the subject:   “I have now spent as much time on the application process for various PhD programs as I would on the average class over the course of a semester. Also $500 or so, counting application fees, getting re-issues of transcripts and GRE scores, etc.”   The financial aspect, although annoying, is an investment. The time that he has had to put into this is unforgivable. SOPHAS is the brick wall against which D. has been beating his head for the past couple of months, in addition to carrying a full-time class load in something rather more demanding than Underwater Basket Weaving (we will not go into the special Hell that is his Analysis course at this time), his TA duties, and RA work. No grad student has the time to devote to the sorts of hoops that SOPHAS demands an applicant jump through, which leads me to think that the people responsible for this service have never tried to go for any degree over baccalaureate. Add to this the fact that SOPHAS appears to like having all submitted applications achieve a certain degree of ripeness before sending them on to the schools themselves -- with no regard to whatever deadlines the schools themselves have set for applications and admissions.   In other words, if D. had submitted his applications in the form of cream, the universities would have finally gotten them in the form of blue cheese.   This is why, every time I’m there, I spend an absurd amount of time in the kitchen, cooking enough food to provision the Shackleford Expedition to Antarctica. Twice. Every meal that he can just pull out of the freezer is equal to roughly two hours that he can spend on homework, other work, or sleep. Plus, it equals $20 that he doesn’t have to pony up to Pizza Luce. (Not that I have anything against Pizza Luce in the slightest; they’ve been our salvation after a couple of horribly delayed flights, since Luce delivers until 3AM. However, even their menu gets old -- and expensive -- after a while.)   So, the latest part started on Tuesday afternoon. D. called -- unexpectedly, since we had talked the night before.   He got home from class / office hours to find a message on his answering machine. From The Ohio State University (yes, they capitalize the “the”.) OSU wanted to get all of his application materials straight so they cold enter him in a fellowship competition. His reaction was a three-way tie between “#&$*&%!^ SOPHAS; they had to call because those morons sat on everybody’s application until the deadline went by”, “OMG, they really really like me” and the pragmatic “my GPA and publication record tripped a flag for the fellowship requirements; SOPHAS is handing them a bunch of applications that are technically late through no fault of the applicants, and they need to get the ball rolling as fast as possible.”   It’s a good fellowship. OSU would be paying him as much as U of M is, only without having to take on TA and / or RA work; his job would be to attend class and put his dissertation together. OSU has a couple of well-recognized names in the field: Stanley Lemeshow is pretty much to biostatistics what Stephen Hawking is to physics. OSU probably has more immediate name recognition than U of M, which could make a difference when it comes time to look for that first faculty position. Columbus is cheaper in terms of cost of living than Minneapolis. And did I mention that it’s a really good fellowship?   But...   D. confessed to me that he now has empathy for what I went through, being bounced around from address to address as a kid. I could have lived a long and happy life without ever having him know what that felt like. Sympathy I can live with, but he didn’t need to have personal experience. He uprooted his entire life: sold a house that he loved, moved away from his parents, old friendships, from here and all that makes Denver into Home. The rodina. A place where, as he puts it, the streets know our names. Yes, his military career had him moving from place to place; yes, he has chosen a new career that has the potential to be highly nomadic. Yes, as a professor and researcher, you have to go where you can do the best research, and yes, you probably won’t be able to spend your entire academic career in one place.   That, however, is the rational side of his brain talking. On the other side is a four-year-old kid pitching a grand “do’WANNA!” fit.   He wants to stay in Minneapolis. I want for him to be able to stay in Minneapolis; joining him there, obviously. He has been visiting friends there for over a decade; it was one of the reasons that he applied to the university in the first place. Those friends, most of whom I had never met until this past June, have accepted me into their circle nearly effortlessly. One of those friends (one who I did know previously) was part of the Muddy’s Java Cafe tribe, lo these many years ago; when I was there in December, Lexi and I talked about the possibility of getting work studio space together. She and her ex-husband Michael made sure that I got out to play as much as I wanted. One of D.’s classmates loaned me a car for while D. was out of town; I can’t drive D.’s car as it’s a stick shift. To leave these connections behind and go to a place that neither of us is familiar with would be painful beyond words; both of us place a high value on friendship, and especially the concept of chosen family. The fact that several people who he has known since high school seem to have taken the “out of sight, mostly out of mind” approach since he moved hurts him; since there have been times in my life when I had to turn to friends instead of family to keep myself sane and healthy, I understand, and ache with him.   (Of particular ironic potential is the fact that one of the school that he has applied to is the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center, but that’s a whole different issue, and deserving of its own post, which I will make within the next 24 hours. No, really; I promise.)   He wants to be able to put down roots again, even if it is for but another year or two; a desire with which I am in complete agreement. He wants to be able to buy a house again; not a huge one, just big enough to comfortably house two humans with pack rat tendencies, a seven year old Olde English Bulldogge, two sixteen year old cats, and a ferret without everyone tripping over each other and the furniture. He wants a yard for Maggie-pup; again not a huge one, just a space that she can call her own -- like she had here in Denver. (Yes, we dote on the fuzz and consider the impact that any plans will have on them. Deal with it.) He wants a home that is Ours in the way that his condo almost was, but without the stamp of his ex-wife. He knows that I’ve come to love Minneapolis, and wants me to know the city as he does; not as a frequent visitor, but a resident. It is at times like this when I see the mark of his family history in him, whether he sees it or not; his father’s mother came from a little village in Lithuania which no longer exists, but her family had lived in that area for 500 years. Roots mean something to him, and to me as well. And right now, he literally has no idea which of six cities he might be living in come autumn.   Now, imagine dealing with this mostly through 900 miles of copper and fiber optic cable.   So that’s where we are; up in the air, clinging to one another as the only guaranteed thing in the other’s live at the moment.   Next up: today's installment of "Tales from a Harried Grad Student", which hopefully isn't going to disappear into the Twilight Zone like this one did last night. (Helpful suggestion du jour: text editor or word processing programs are your Friend.)
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

0
Squash Soup
 

A Windfall!

I just came into a handful of money thanks to my Grampa so now I can place a rather large order!! I know that I want to submit myself for the Inquisition for sure. I don't even know if whether I'd prefer Agony or Ecstasy...except that I like the Ecstasy t-shirt....so I think I'll just leave it up to them to decide. I'm hoping I'll get what I'm meant to.......or I'll just trade until I do. Oooh and a couple of the fizzyBOOMS!! (Grr and either Seduction or Quietude...I haven't decided which yet.) Now that I have a bathtub.....!!!!!!!!!   As for the rest of my order, I'm going to order:   The Parliament of Monsters Arachnina Eshe Faiza Asp Viper Hope & Faith Meskhenet Thalassa Tiresias Zarita Priala   Abhisarika Khandita   Salon Exhibit I imp pack   And a 5ml of Anubis because I've been putting it off for far too long and I really want it.   *squee* This is going to be a fabulous order!!!!!!!!!!!!!
jessiesquash

jessiesquash

2
Goth Hobbit's Blog
 

Huh?

Did the board just eat the great big entry that I just posted? 'Cause it isn't showing up.   I'll deal with it later. Grr arrgh...
goth_hobbit

goth_hobbit

2
Eoywin's Blog
 

On Vacations and Costumes

I haven't written in this blog forever, but I will attempt to be better at it.   With my new job and new found happyness, I don't have much to say in internet land anymore.   There is always so much more to talk about when you are unhappy I guess *L*   My day to day life is pretty boring, so I'll spare all of you that. Instead, I'll talk about the trips I'm planning on taking this year.   The first is Dragon*Con which is defined as such on their website:   Dragon*Con is America's largest, multi-media, popular arts convention focusing on science fiction and fantasy, gaming, comics, literature, art, music, and film.   Dragon*Con is Labor Day weekend in Atlanta, GA   I've known about Dragon*Con for about 4 or 5 years now (maybe longer), and I've always wanted to go. Luckily, our first Asheville friends go every year, so I have someone to share a hotel with.   The only downside to Dragon*Con is that my husband can't come, because of work But we decided that there was no reason I shouldn't go.   So, I love costumes and cosplaying, so I'm of course planning on wearing costumes for Dragon*Con. I'll be bringing at least one old costume, and making one new costume. I'm not the best sewer in the world, so making costumes is hard for me. I used to be friends with someone who could sew and she'd make my costumes, but since we've had a rather large falling out, so I'm forced to make my own costume.   This is the costume I'm making for Dragon*Con:     It's the girl in the pink frilly dress (oftentimes called the Cupcake Dress).   Since I'm not the best at sewing, I'm starting out with a base dress, and adding th e ruffles and the other bits. My boss (who is also becoming my friend) told me about this really neat thrift store she goes to, and I met her yesterday. I found a dress that could be my base dress (and for 50 cents!), but when I got home, it was a little tight - I couldn't zip it up all the way. Though that could be my arms not being able to reach all the way around.   So, I'm geeked about that. I'll probably post pictures as the process goes along.   The other vacation I'm really excited for is our Disney honeymoon! Though since this post has already gotten long, I post more about that later.
Eoywin

Eoywin

0
Birdsongs
 

The other shoe.

All week I felt surprisingly okay, for living in the same house as my now-ex-boyfriend. My friends took me over to their place several nights to hang out & watch TV, & I talked to our other roommate, who was my best friend for ten years - this last year has put a strain on our friendship & we've been on & off talking to each other. We hadn't talked since before Christmas, & it was nice to speak with her again, even if it was for just a little while. I've even talked to Jason a couple of times & we had friendly ten-minute talks about stuff we were doing, reading, etc.   Then yesterday I went to a birthday party for an old college friend. We played games, ate pizza, watched episodes of House - fun was had. His wife was driving me home (since I have no car) at 2:30 am and as we pulled up in front of the house, we could see through the living room window that Jason was in there with the girl he said he had feelings for the night we broke up. He said today that they were just talking because the coffee shop closed, but I don't care. It's been five days - Five Days! - since our two and a half year relationship ended. I'm fine with him bringing other friends over, but not her. They can just have coffee at IHOP - not my home. He keeps saying he wants to be friends, but friends have more regard for each other's feelings than that ... But seriously. Five days!   I ended up spending the night at my college friends house, then having lunch with them & going shopping, which was a nice distraction. But after I got home & talked to Jason & asked him not to bring her here again, I went in my room & cried a lot. Which really sucks on the one hand, but on the other, at least I can stop wondering when the numbness will wear off or if there's something wrong with me because I don't feel intense emotions ... The other shoe has dropped, & I do. Thank goodness for friends - they've been a lifesaver this week.
spanishviolet

spanishviolet

5
Do you have a flag?
 

TMI.

I've been inspired by the recent spate of blogs about bringing out the inner sex kitten, so...   I woke up my husband at 4:00 in the morning for purposes of sex.   This was a pretty common thing when we were first together, but after six and a half years it's not as common as it probably should be. I'm not even sure if you can say "not as common" if it's like once in three years.   When he got home told me he was tired at work all day today but he was also happy. Maybe I should do that more often.   Next on my sexy agenda: Tweezing my eyebrows into pinup-style arches!
filigree_shadow

filigree_shadow

2
Forget Everything And Remember
 

Another day, another... meal?

Apparently we're not hearing back from the mortgage company today. Which isn't so great, because tomorrow we're going to Chinatown with a bunch of friends and won't be home.   I'm really looking forward to going to Chinatown. I can get another medicine cup, since my last one broke, and make myself and the family medicinal teas. (They TASTE medicinal, too! But they work.) We can get a teapot, which we haven't had since the last one broke from overuse. I MIGHT be able to get sushi. (I love sushi. If I could eat it every day, especiall in the summer, I would. Happily. I even learned how to make some very basic sushi.) And we can hang out with our friends, who are usually very busy and don't have time to hang out at all, with anyone. I just hope I have enough energy to walk around. It's not a huge area, not like NYC's Chinatown, but it's kind of spread out oddly over a few blocks.   Today I had my first bout of "morning" sickness so far this pregnancy. Oh, joy. It didn't help that I didn't get QUITE enough sleep, or that a friend called whose boyfriend I used to consider a friend. I sympathize with her completely, and I'm not sure I can be friends with someone who lies so constantly to himself and to everyone else. But I won't get into their issues... it's neither here nor there, and would take far more explaining than I care to do at the moment. But it added some stress. Then my son came home with a letter from the principal, his second time of seeing the principal this school year. Apparently, despite the long talk we had yesterday about responsibility and developing good habits, he got out of his seat at lunch without permission and ignored one of the lunch aides. And this happened more than once.   Honestly, I cannot deal with that, plus my stress and tiredness and depression. Fortunately, I have the bestest husband I could ever have. He's not perfect, but he's as close to perfect for me as anyone I've ever met or even heard of. He knows I'm ground down to nearly nothing, emotionally, and he took charge, made new rules, and meted out the punishment. I am immensely grateful to him, if that wasn't obvious already.   My husband then did the dishes, and I started dinner. I also had some miso soup someone sent me in a care package. I have no idea how they knew or guessed that I absolutely love miso soup, but I do. It's a comfort food, but it's actually not bad for me. We're planning to see if we can get some more packets, maybe tomorrow in Chinatown.   I'll probably go to bed early tonight. My sleep schedule is beyond wonky, and last I heard, the plan was to leave for Chinatown around 11 am.
Kitrona

Kitrona

0
Forget Everything And Remember
 

Perhaps.

I am so tired of people lying to themselves and others over silly, petty little things. Someone mentioned that you can post in the "how are you feeling" thread and pretty much always get support, but it's rather amusing to me that my experience is almost the exact opposite. I have to be extremely melodramatic to even get noticed, and my offers of support, and those of my friends, tend to get ignored. I know it's a big forum, with lots of people, but if only two of those people have responded in any way to your post, is it not simple courtesy to respond to them BOTH?   I am not picking on anyone in particular here. This is something I have noticed over a span of time. And to use examples of my own, which is all I feel I can ethically do, I posted in that thread that I felt "Distant". One word. Ok, easy to miss, I guess. I got no responses at all. Then a few hours later I posted "Discouraged, alone, depressed, and invisible." Direct quote. To that, I got three responses.   It just seems like there are certain people who get more attention in that thread, and on the board as a whole, than others. I understand that people have cliques and all, but it seems odd to me that despite the reality of this, people seem to think that everyone's treated equally.   I have been having some very serious emotional problems, to the tune of semi-regular breakdowns. These do not look to be ending any time soon unless I can get back on my anti-depressants, which I was wisely taken off of when my regular doctor found out I was pregnant. The obstetrician has more knowledge of these things. Until then, however, I tend to devolve into a sobbing mess roughly every three to four weeks. But because I choose not to tell approximately 6000 people every detail of my life, because I assume (probably rightly) that it will bore them, because I choose to mention only the barest details when it is the worst, I get shoved to the back while those who choose to make their lives public to the last detail, they get what appears to be 100% support, although in many cases, it is not.   Perhaps I'm being petty. Perhaps it's the hormones talking. Or perhaps, just perhaps, I get tired of seeing myself and my friends, who really could use a few encouraging words now and again, to whom knowing that we've inspired kind feelings in someone we've never met would make a huge difference, shoved to the back of the "room" and ignored in favor of those who prefer their lives to be full of great drama, whether acknowledged conciously or not.   Perhaps it's something to think about. And perhaps five people will read this. I know my blog is not as widely followed as some, and five is the upper limit of my expectations. But then, I suppose since we as a society focus on those who provide drama, it shouldn't be so surprising that the same thing would happen in our private lives.   Or perhaps I'm just an idealist.
Kitrona

Kitrona

10
This Old Snark
 

Serving up Sexy with a Slice o' Surreal

Snarky would like to submit for the record that she is wearing a skirt to work today.   This is a rare occasion and had to be noted:   -knee high black Ecco boots (semi-sexy, mostly sensible) -pink and white striped knee high socks -gray flannel pin-striped long skirt (purchased from a punk store in downtown Asheville) that causes Snarky to walk like Morticia Addams -black stretch button down Banana Republic shirt -light pink railroad/ribbon yarn (inkdarkmoon: think Knitting Fever's Dazzle or somesuch) neck... thingy. It's a really skinny scarf that looks more like a deconstructed cravat -fuschia shrinky dink skulls earrings from Sweet Action Lab -red lip stain under sparkly lip gloss -Bearded Lady   There.   Tonight she and The Mister are going on a double date with their real estate agent and his wife. He's a pretty interesting guy, though the wife is a bit of a cipher still. They are going to see Inland Empire again because Mr. RealEstateAgent is a huge, huge David Lynch fan... which is very disconcerting for the Snarks. Lynch is a hard artist to pin down, but whatever anyone might think of when picturing a Lynch afficionado, Mr. REA is the exact opposite (or possibly dead on. It's really hard to tell.).
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

10
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

'80's video nostalgia

Thanks to YouTube, I can now find 1980's music videos to see if they were as good as I recalled. I always loved this one. In fact, it drove me crazy. And it still does! (Sorry for the primitive link, my operating system here at work doesn't let me use the link function.)   BTW, while this video aired at all hours of the day on MTV, I don't consider it entirely work-safe if your screen is exposed to interlopers.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjYuPAC6-lo
valentina

valentina

7
Forget Everything And Remember
 

Wow... 6 weeks already?

Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I'd figured on a due date around mid-September. After all, that's when my son was born, and I'd found out he was on his way around the same time.   However, I seem to be a little shaky on my counting-backwards skills. I had assumed I was about 3 or 4 weeks along, at most. Out of curiousity, though, last night I was tooling around the web and found a baby site, and was reading. Naturally, it had a due-date predictor. I plugged in the information requested, and got back mid-September as a due date. Ok, no surprise there. But it also said that I'm now 6 weeks along. I was not expecting THAT. I mean, it makes sense, but for some reason, my brain is still boggling.   Still, I guess that's good. It doesn't really change anything except in my head, so it's really neither good nor bad.   I also found out that I may be able (even encouraged) to get back on my antidepressants. That means I'll be able to sleep! And not be so cranky! And that will be good for all concerned.
Kitrona

Kitrona

0
Do you have a flag?
 

University-related question.

Here's a strange question for you. What do you do when you realize that your professor is giving wrong answers in class?   Last quarter I had a 300-level anatomy class. This quarter I have a 100-level physiology class. This is the first time this professor has taught at Northwestern -- usually she teaches at a community college.   Last week she mis-identified a bone on her own lecture slide as a humerus when it was very clearly a femur. She sort of hemmed and hawed over it for a couple of seconds and then said humerus. So it wasn't just an oral typo.   Last night she spelled the muscle sternocleidomastoid wrong on her lecture slide, and then she mispronounced it as well. But the real kicker was that she had it up there as an example of how muscles are sometimes named based on their points of insertion. She said this muscle is named for its three insertion points: the sternum, the clavicle [both true] and... "mastication, which is chewing, which means it goes into your neck." Ummm... no. It's attached to the mastoid process, which is a piece of the temporal bone of the skull that sticks down behind your ear.   I realize she may need to simplify some explanations because it's a 100-level class, but simplify does not mean the same thing as "tell students the wrong answer." When a student asked her what the difference was between "extends the thigh" and "extends the leg" when we were talking about different muscle functions, she didn't know the answer. Our anatomy professor beat us over the head with learning to call the upper part of the lower limb the "thigh" and the lower part of the lower limb the "leg." She told us specifically not to call the whole lower limb the "leg" because that was anatomically incorrect. So why did my physiology professor not know that?   I don't know what to do here. I paid full Northwestern tuition for this class, and this is the first time at Northwestern that I felt like I was getting a crappy education for my money. All my other Northwestern professors have been stellar.   Should I go to the dean? Should I ask my advisor what I should do? I've never been in this situation before and I don't know how to approach this.
filigree_shadow

filigree_shadow

2
This Old Snark
 

Soccer Mom Fetish?

Over time, Snarky has learned to appreciate the value of Name Brand Things - not always (she still just can't get the whole Louis Vuitton thing) but more often than not. When she does purchase things these days, they feel more like investments. (Even if said investments are happening at the Goodwill.)   She would rather have the one good pair of Danskos rather than a closet full of Payless ripoffs.   It came as a bit of a shock to her a few years ago to discover that the straight legged jeans from Eddie Bauer were the best fit for her body (which she lovingly refers to as "the curvy rectangle": slight dip at the waist in a long torso over short, muscular thighs and calves).   Snarky always thought of Eddie Bauer as The Gap for soccer moms. In other words: better than Wal-Mart, but not North Face/Patagonia/whatever the heck posh soccer moms wear.   What came as an even bigger shock is that a sweater she purchased from the EB factory outlet last year (deep red boxy cabled cardigan) provoked a rather interesting response from The Mister. He made a point several times to comment that he really liked the sweater, and liked Snarky wearing it. Sometimes the commentary came in tactile form.   Snarky could not pinpoint exactly what it was about this shapeless sweater that was pushing all the right buttons for The Mister, but she is now determined to figure it out.
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

3
Sourball Ho!
 

Quickies

--Ack, I was bumped to the 2nd page of blogs! This means that 1) I'm not updating enough, and 2) there are lots of other people updating! I'm glad to see people joining us on Blog Island (TM Antimony)   --As to my previous post, this collection agency has obviously been carpet-bombing people across the country with demand notices for phantom amounts. Lots of complaints posted on ripoffreport.com and complaintsboard.com. I filed a complaint with the FTC online, and since I demanded proof of the debt I'll hopefully never hear from this company again   --We went to World Market on Sunday to spend some gift cards. I love being able to walk through that store and grab anything that looks interesting without having to spend cash. We got a couple bottles of wine, some beer made by Trappist monks, shortbread cookies, Irish oatmeal, mushroom & wine pate, pasta sauce, a bunch of incense, a big candle, and some replacement forks. Rats, I listed all this and now I'm hongry! (TM darkitysnark)   --I definitely read everyone's blogs, even though I don't comment most of the time. We have a great bunch here
dawndie

dawndie

2
This Old Snark
 

Of Mermaids and Girlie-Girls

Last week's surprise winter weather has given way to premature spring-like conditions.   And like a tender crocus bud, Snarky finds her own femininity peeking out from all the protective layers of winter accumulation. Last night she trimmed back the talons and attended to her toes. Tonight she hopes to complete the rest of her home mani/pedi progression (Snarky is slow and less flexible than she once was. It takes at least two days to finish these simple tasks.) and this weekend might be the Wacky Waxing Weekend if she can get her gumption up.   This seems to be the prevailing mood on Blog Island. A mood of rejuvenation and re-introduction to one's inner girlie-girl. Snarky has lost track of what this particular movement happens to be... is it post-post-modern feminism, or meta-feminism, or retro-something-or-other?   Ah well. Whatever it is, it makes typing on the keyboard much easier.   Edited to add: while ChezSnark is still slightly under the pall of the Monster Cold of Ought Six Slash Seven, Snarky has finally started to wear her BPAL again. Banner day!
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

2
Forget Everything And Remember
 

WHY am I awake?

*sighs* I went to bed at 9:30. This was early for me, but I was sleepy, and I didn't actually sleep until about 11. I woke up again at 2:30, and for 3 hours, I haven't been able to get back to sleep.   This happened yesterday, too. I went to bed around 3:30 (normal for me) and couldn't sleep until 8.   I am frustrated. (And hungry again, but I don't think that has anything to do with it... my tummy's not growling.) I wish I could take something to help me sleep, but that's not a good idea. Tea didn't work, trying to bore myself to sleep didn't work, and I can't think of anything else.   ARGH.
Kitrona

Kitrona

2
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

Fishnets, quiet time and George Clooney

I was out trying to buy a pair of black tights yesterday and couldn't find them where I was shopping (sold out, I guess), so I bought a pair of black fishnet tights. Practical, huh? No, she never did believe in having the big wedding with the while lace gown, but by god, let's get fishnet stockings because they're there.   I think I might wear them tomorrow. I have this retro-style black skirt that begs for a pair of fishnets. Everything else will be black and white and muted, and the fishnets will be the wee little touch. Well, probably more than a wee little touch, maybe a serious jab in the ribs, but who cares... I'm a fiscal analyst, for hell's sake, no one expects it. It messes them up.   You know, people ask me to go to lunch with them (as did the lobbyist a couple of weeks ago), and I really don't like to go to lunch with other people. It's one of my least-favorite things to do on my lunch hour. I would so prefer to go to my nice little bohemian coffeehouse hang-out and get an hour of quiet time before I re-enter the fray. My inner introvert needs to be cared and nurtured, especially when my workplace is a zoo. I know going to lunch is "networking," but gah, most of the time it's just bullshitting while you feed your face. It wears me out.   I suppose if I didn't wear fishnet stockings, people might not be so inclined to try to figure out what the hell I was all about, but I can't let go of all of my personality for the sake of being left alone. I told someone not that long ago that I'd probably dress like a churchmouse this year during the session, and I guess I lied. Actually, I was being a bit sardonic when I said that, but I think they believed me.   And why is it, when the legislative session starts, several of my close acquaintances get needy? As in, really needy? I won't bore you with the stories, but it happens EVERY damn year -- the session starts and they start calling me or emailing me a lot or even stopping in my office to see if I have time to listen to godknowswhat. And it always starts with "I know you're busy, but..." The "but" should be followed with "I WANT ATTENTION! AND I WANT IT NOW!!!" It's not -- it's followed with whatever semi-crisis or love affair they want to tell me about in utmost detail. Gracious. My friend and coworker Scott suggested I hang up a sign that says: "I AM NOT the wailing wall."   I am not a callous bitch. If it were a bona fide emergency or major life event, I'm there for people. But their annual job review that always goes well, or the new girlfriend, or generally noodling around about your philosophy of life are not emergencies.   In a total non sequitur, I had a dream Sunday morning that I'd given birth to a baby but I'd forgotten about it and gone off to a marching band rehearsal. Then I remembered: George Clooney was the dad! I'd go over to the dream interpretation thread on the forum and ask them what they hell they thought that meant, but I think I'd be booed off!
valentina

valentina

4
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Sacred Memories

I don't know how else to describe these things. I've begun collecting these moments in time where I felt an otherworldly calm, or where I felt something fundamental inside me change.   During a period of exceptionally dark depression, sobbing on the phone with my friend Shari (who lives across the country from me) as she frantically looks for a Star of David her grandfather gave her, and then listening to her recite, in Hebrew, the prayer for that day of Hannukah.   In the same mindset and a similar timeframe, being curled up in bed on a trip out of town to visit some friends, unable to go out and socialize, and my friend Stacy coming in and playing her guitar and singing to me. She has a beautiful voice, and I wish I had a recording of something her band has done.   Flying into Knoxville after an all night flight across the states and seeing my husband for the first time. Realizing that we were not just going to patch each other up and then move on, and trusting that he felt the same way also happened in that general period of time.   Staying up and talking with my brother in law about how much he loves my sister. (He is generally not overly expressive in that area.)   There are more, but those first two really have a special place in my heart.
smallvoice

smallvoice

4
Birdsongs
 

Single again.

I mentioned in a couple of postings elsewhere that I've had a bad weekend. Friday night, instead of going to visit his grandmother as we had planned, my boyfriend & I had a big discussion of issues - things that had been bothering him, things that been getting to me (like the control thing in my last blog). We came to the conclusion we should break up, then started crying & went to sleep next to each other. Then the next day we sort of retreated, & I said maybe we could work on things, & he said to give him time to think, & went out with his friends while I surfed online all night, making sad posts.   He didn't get home before I left for work the next day, & when I got home, he said he'd been thinking, & confessed that he had feelings for someone he had asked out before we'd started dating, but she was too young then. His crush never went away, & she apparently has a thing for him, even though she's seeing someone else. He didn't name her, but I knew right away who he meant. And I can't even get angry at him (yet) because she's beautiful & thoughtful & musical & fun. So I said, well, we could work on other things but I can't do anything about that. So that's it.   I'll need to start the long process of separating our stuff soon, but today I am still on autopilot & feeling numb. I think he's confused too - just now he called from work to make sure I was okay, & seemed to want to talk. (I've been in the habit of making a little ten-minute call every day on my break.) Last time someone broke up with me (my first boyfriend - we dated for seven years), I was able to not see him for months & I was healed by the time I saw him next. But now, I'll have to move into the spare bedroom, which is still extremely full of all my brother's junk from when he took off & never came back to get anything. Our lease doesn't run out until June, & none of us (including my longtime roommate, who is now angry at both of us) has the money to break the lease & move out (it would involve huge fines). And I'll see J all the time. But he won't be mine anymore. And he'll want to talk, & make sure I'm not mad at him, & be friends right away. And I just want space to heal.   Thank god for friends. My only plan last night was to get out of the house & call my friends S & S. And they were free, & we watched TV & talked, & took me out to a bar to celebrate another friend's birthday, & people bought me drinks & we chatted & smoked & they said they would hate J for me since I can't, & didn't mind when I cried on the table. Then I fell asleep on their couch & woke up with a kitten next to me.   So begins life without J. At least without him being my J. I will use this time to see friends more & spend more time on my spirituality again & be a strong independent feminist-type grown-up who doestn't need to be needed & can wait for someone who loves her. And when the numbness wears off & I break down I will try my best to remember my new mission statement.   Sorry for the length of this blog ... venting has been accomplished now.
spanishviolet

spanishviolet

4
This Old Snark
 

Claws are out! - Grumbling about Grooming

Snarky in Winter   If she would just stop burning and cutting them and tried to moisturize every once in a while, Snarky would have a fairly pretty set of hands. Given care, they can be delicately expressive with long fingers and long, tapering nail beds. She inherited them from her father's side of the family. Her mother has always grumbled about her own "farmer's hands", but as the rest of her is delicate and expressive (she was a traditional Chinese dancer in college), her hands come across as such too.   Snarky does not treat her hands well at all, though. They want to be long-nailed and idle... the hands of some pampered concubine. But she treats them like meat. On the rare occasion that she gets them "done", they become undone within a week's time. Nail polish barely lasts two days (even the good stuff). Her cuticles would break any aesthetician from sheer mental trauma.   Currently Snarky is struggling with her suddenly long nails. They get caught in her keyboard (upon which her typing sounds like a puppy scrabbling across a hardwood floor). They mess up her ability to dial her cell phone. She has poked herself in the eye countless times. The Mister has been inadvertently scratched in very unsexy ways.   So far, only the cats seem to enjoy these new accessories.   Along with her enlongenating nails, Snarky is trying to re-learn how to handle longer hair. She is also doing what she playfully calls "Winterizing" - a sort of seasonal shortening of her personal grooming habits which allows her to sleep in a bit more, but which also makes winter The Mister's least favorite time of year. Apparently it's OK for him to have hairy legs year 'round, but she must remain pre-pubescent (at least in that one aspect.) She will make an exception for Valentine's Day, though, which brings much rejoicing to ChezSnark.   Snarky really has a problem with the whole body hair issue, actually. She finds it yucky and gross in all practicality (tank tops, swim suits, shorts) but in principle wishes she could just let it all go. So this "Winterizing" thing is sort of her annual foray into protesting the unrealistic expectations set by the beauty industry and society in general. (She's also normally a waxer, not a shaver, so this is a bit of a reprieve from all the ouchiness.)   Strange how laziness promotes old stereotypes (longer head hair and finger nails) whilst stomping like a giant hairy Sasquatch on others.
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

5
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