Scattered Alaska

A rasin in the sun

2011-09-25T14:37:00.000-07:00

My Grandfather died yesterday. He was 95 years old.

We've known this was coming for a while. He's been in and out of hospitals and rehabilitation centers since March. March. March was a turning point, when it was discovered that he had colon cancer. The cancer was removed, and he was sent on his merry way, sent home, but this time with a home nurse to check on him and a nice young woman who came and cooked meals for him on the weekends. Things we'd been asking him to do for years, things he didn't want to do. Too expensive, too many people. Too much to handle.

And he was fine, for a while. He'd lost a lot of weight, in the hospital, but considering his previous resemblance to Humpty Dumpty, this was not necessarily bad. He had an occupational therapist who came to do strength exercises with him, things we'd been telling him to do since he stopped going to cardiac rehab. Too expensive, too far away. Too much to handle.

He kept losing weight, kept being tired. But he was 95, and his body had been stressed by the cancer and surgury. This was normal, right?

The cancer came back. Had it ever gone? Spreading. It had spread to other parts of his body. Couldn't be removed. Too much to handle. He had 6 months.

His 95th birthday party was in June. When I saw him, in the hallway of his condo building on June 11, he had indeed lost a lot of weight. He was leaning on a walker, but I could tell he hated it. Too much like being helpless, something he had never wanted. He told us his OT had said he could have a cane now, so we went to the drugstore and got him one. Had he lied? It didn't matter. He didn't want a walker at his party. He was 95. We did what he wanted.

The party was at the same place as his 90th had been, Allgauer's on the Riverfront, in the Northbrook Hilton. Everyone was there. His friends from his building. The boisterous little old ladies he played poker with, who told me he owed them 67 cents. His friends from the library where he had volunteered for many years. Family. So much family. My cousins, their children, their parents. I think we all knew.

Poppy with the great-grand kids at his 95th birthday party, June 12, 2011

This wasn't just a birthday party. Sure, it was that, celebrating the fact that this funny old man, grandfather of three, great-grandfather of five, poker player, armor restorer, jeweler, traveler, was now 95. But it was more than that. As my father reminded me a few days later, this was his wake. He wanted to be there, with everyone, for the last time. We all knew.

My father is, was, is his only surviving child. He also had a daughter, my father's older sister, the mother of my cousins, Ailene. I never met her, she died before I was born. I was named for her, though. A for Ailene, A for Andrea. My mother was lobbying for Olivia, but Andrea, A for Ailene, won. As my grandfather's only surviving child, my father visited him roughly every other month, monthly towards the end. We aren't big on emotions in my family. This was probably hard on him to do, to visit so often and watch his father fall apart, but it was never discussed. Like so many things. If you don't say it, it does not exist. Never, never discuss.

The question, no longer being when, was how. When we knew: soon. How was the mystery. Would it be the cancer, or his heart, his heart that had been failing for years. We always thought it would be his heart, but now there was the cancer. No one knew. We could never know. Will never know? It doesn't matter, knowing. It changes nothing, in the end. It matters not how you go, you're just gone. Gone. Gone forever, never to be discussed. We never discuss. Like my grandmother. Never, never discuss.

And so he was in the rehab center again. The nurse was concerned, and called my father. He got a one way ticket to fly out. Several days later, after my mother bugged him about it, he called me. Soon he said. It could be tomorrow, or it could be two weeks from now. Soon. Did I have any questions? No. What was there to ask? We never discuss, there was nothing to be discussed. Nothing to say. The next time he called, he said, would be because Poppy was gone, gone forever. Gone.

He called the next morning. I knew. Saw the name on the screen of my phone, and knew. Gone. Just gone. I picked up the phone, and that's what he said. Gone. Did I have any questions? No, no questions. What was there to ask? Gone forever, never discussed. Did I want anything? I mentioned that I had always like the silverware, it was special, for special occasions. It felt wrong to say. My father scoffed. Why did I want that? It was just plate, not the real thing. The wrong thing to say. It was special, it had memories, that was all the value I needed. And yet it felt wrong, wrong to ask, wrong to say.

And now he's gone. I have photographs, and memories, but those will all fade. I don't remember much of my grandmother, and eventually I won't remember much of him, either. Gone, just gone.

Yesterday, all day, over and over, in my head, was A Raisin in the Sun. We read it in sophomore English in high school. I don't know why I remember it, but I do. Over and over, in my head.

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up, like a raisin in the sun?
Does it fester like a sore, and run?
Does it stink, like rotten meat,
Or crust and sugar over, like a syrupy sweet?
Does it sag, like a heavy load,
Or does it explode?

Bang. Gone.

This didn't sink in for a while. Gone. What is gone? This man I saw once or twice a year, gone. Did this change things? It must. Gone. Gone how? Just gone. What changed? One less airplane flight. No more afternoon puzzles on hot, thunder-stormy days. No more five o'clock cocktail.

No more letters.

That was it. No more letters. I wrote him every Friday, and got a response back sometime during the week. No more letters. I mailed one on Friday, as usual. Saturday, he was gone. Will never get that letter. No more letters, not ever. No more discussions. Don't discuss, never discuss.

I miss you Poppy.

Lots of Love,
Andrea

Elmer Hulman, May 8 1916 - September 24 2011

Little Girl in a Big (Boys') Lab

2011-03-11T11:48:00.000-08:00

Ok, so stop me if you've heard this one before. So, scientists are mostly guys, right? And the particularity mathy ones (Physics, Programming, Engineering, etc) even more so, right? So, they're, you know, all kinda awkward around girls and stuff, right? Oh, stereotypes, you're so funny and so often wrong.

In my scientific career, I have found the ideas both of "scientists are men" and "male scientists are awkward with girls" to be flat out wrong. Sure, most scientists, at least in the aforementioned mathy sciences, are male. But "most" only requires a simple majority. Were there more boys that girls in my AP physics class? Absolutely. But you know what? The girls got the highest grades. Not only that, but no-one cared. I was never treated differently then any of the other students in that class. And neither was Aimie or Rianne. If anything, the three of us picked on Justin, the only boy "brave" enough to sit with the three of us.

In college, the same has been true. There are both men and women in my classes, and no-one really cares. Interestingly, of the four physics majors in my year, three are female. And yes, we feel slightly patronized sometimes, but when the entire department is either male or temporary/pregnant that's a bit inevitable. I am of the opinion that my advisor is slightly patronizing of everyone, regardless of gender, and have observed this to be true. I don't feel particularly put upon by being a woman. If anything, the administration of my college seems to discriminate against me for being a scientist, the @*&^O$*s (oh, I'm sorry. That was completely uncalled for, especially as I am a polite young lady that certainly doesn't know what that word could possibly mean. I also major in something vaguely useless, like studio art or English, and will likely marry a rich husband and donate lots of money to the college). Anyway, the point is that I have never encountered any sort of difficulty in the scientific community based on having two X chromosomes.

The awkwardness thing is a bit overblown as well. Are scientist awkward? Sometimes. I myself am certainly not the most socially graceful in the world. But there is a difference between the gawky, uncomfortable people you see on television and the ones you meet in real life. Are Mudders awkward? Certainly. But speaking as someone whose rooommate slept with an entire dorm's worth, they clearly aren't that bad. Several I know think that I'm strange. And I'm not the one at an engineering college. So the whole awkward, nerdy scientist thing? Highly exaggerated.

Stereotypes people. They're often wrong, and embarrassingly so. They might be based on some long ago truth, but aren't necessarily true now. For the one's I've mentioned, there doesn't seem to be much basis.

That was then, this is OH MY GOD A GIRL JUST WALKED INTO THE COMPUTATIONAL PHYSICS LAB!!!

Imagine my joy at this reception.

Oh, it was silent, of course. But that's part of how I knew it was happening. By the time the door had swung shut behind me, the sounds of frantically typing fingers and whispering groups had completely ceased. If the Higgs Boson had suddenly walked into the room and introduced itself to everyone, it would not have had a more shocked reception. I could almost hear the code compiling.

And so, with several dozen pairs of eyes on me, I walked across the room to a computer, sat down, and logged in. Opening up my files, I ran over them once before attempting to compile and tackling a small mountain of errors. Around me, life started to return to something approaching normal. The hostility, on the other hand, remained very apparent. There was probably more whispering and less typing, but I didn't care. I had a null pointer exception to track down.

What makes this so fascinating is the fact that I have been going to this lab at least once every week for the past nine weeks. Admittedly, this was during my class's specific scheduled lab session. There are two other girls in my class, and things had never been awkward like this. The difference: I was here two hours early, trying to get some work done beforehand. As time went on, several of these highly uncomfortable gentlemen looked at their watches, got up, and left. By the time it was two o'clock, there were three other people in the lab. At this point, people for my lab session started coming in, and life returned to normal.

For the first time in my life, I've been treated as some sort of horrible unwanted intrusion. It wasn't nice. Is it enough to deter me? Not in the slightest. In fact, the horribly sadistic part of me has smelled fear, and their fear is, in a way, my power. You don't think I belong in your lab? Oh, I'm so sorry, I may just have to spend ALL DAY* there then. Muahaha!

I am a female scientist. Who knows C, Java, and Python. I'm not allowed into your toy box? Well, I might just have to break it then.

*I would never actually do this. The lab is in the basement, and has only one teeny tiny window. I will, of course, come up with some other sort of plan.

Why All Scientist Should Go to Europe

2011-02-13T13:26:00.000-08:00

Or: How to Cook in a European Kitchen

This week, I decided it would be nice to have chicken for dinner. While my realization of “soup is really easy to make” had given me many quick nutritious meals, they had unfortunately taken most of the protein out of my diet. Sure, I had peanut butter and yogurt, but I still felt like I wasn’t getting enough. Additionally, chicken is really easy to make.

So, I went to the grocery store and bought a chicken. I also had green beans and rice ready at hand, so I could make a proper meal out of it. Some lemon juice and olive oil on the chicken would give it good flavor and a nice crisp skin. I was ready to cook.

Now, before I keep going, I’m going to outline how I cook a chicken. Essentially, you roast it in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes per pound, and then add another half hour. Then you let it rest in the pan for ten to fifteen minutes before cutting it up and eating it. Very straight forward, right?

So imagine my shock when I realized there is no way I could possibly cook my chicken. There were two, very specific, reasons for this. One: the weight (mass) of the chicken was in kilograms. Two: my oven was in Celsius. The metric system was rearing its ugly head.

It is now that I must make a very embarrassing confession. I, like most American scientists, don’t actually “get” the metric system. Oh sure, I can do calculations in it up and down and all around all day, but do I really understand it? No. I can’t estimate distances in meters, I have no idea how heavy it is to carry a kilogram and heck if I know what the temperature in Celsius feels like. I’ve grown up with the English (or Empirical, if you like) system all my life, and that’s how I think.

In this specific situation, the chicken itself saved me. On the back of the packaging was a neat little tag that said to cook it at 190 C for 45 minutes per kilogram, plus another twenty. But it made me think: by being immersed in the metric system, will I understand it better? It’s a bit like being immersed in a language, so shouldn’t I gain the same sort of fluency, just in a system of measurement rather than a language?

The answer, I think, is yes. I still “translate” in my head when confronted with, for example, a temperature in Celsius, but I’m a lot faster at it then I was a few weeks ago. When I look up the weather in the morning and see that it’s 5 C outside, I no longer have to look up the conversion, I just remember that that’s around 40, so I’ll need my fleece jacket and a sweater. Actually, this morning I went straight from “4 C” to “jacket and sweater with a hat,” so I’ve really improved. Unfortunately for me, the British only mostly use the metric system (long distances are in miles, for example) so I will only mostly get used to it.

Nevertheless, I have gained something from my study abroad experience that I hadn’t expected. While it’s not the sort of cultural perspective I had been told I would gain, it is unbelievably useful. All scientists should go to Europe, at least once. It’s so much easier to work when you understand your tools, and that way you’ll be even better at using them. Oh, and in case you’re interested, a small chicken is about 1.5 kg. And with lemon and olive oil, a small chicken is delicious.

Originally written for the Scripps College Off-Campus Study Blog

Lovely weather we're having for this time of year

2011-02-04T09:28:00.000-08:00

The weather today could be easily described in two words : winter squall. In fact, that could explain the weather for the last several days. Let me describe it for you:

Wednesday: mostly sunny, but with a cloudburst as I came back from the grocery store, followed by more sun.
Wednesday night: thunder and lightning (yes really).
Thursday morning: Snowing when I get up. Snaining by the time I finish breakfast. Raining on the way to class. Sun by the time I get out an hour later.
Thursday afternoon: Raining lightly (misting, really) when I go to lab. Pouring rain with constant wind and sudden gusts three hours later.
Thursday evening: Continuation of the same wind conditions, but now with hail.
Friday: Rain and wind. All day. With ferocious gusts out of nowhere.


Exhibit A

Of course, none of this phases the brave Scots, who simply layer on more wool, and, if it gets really awful, might possibly put on a mackintosh (rain coat). I, on the other hand, huddle inside, drinking copious amounts of tea and praying the windows don't break (yes, it's that windy). Thank heaven for the fact that almost all the powerlines where I am are buried, or I'd worry about losing power.

In other news, I've decided that tomorrow is probably a bad day to go to the castle...

Anatomy of a Haggis

2011-01-27T12:01:00.000-08:00

January 25 was Burns Night here in Scotland. Burns Night is a holiday which celebrates the birthday of Scotland’s favorite poet, Robert Burns. Burns is celebrated for his use of the traditional Scots language in his writing. Prior to his works, the language had largely been abandoned by the “educated” classes, who wished to be seen as more sophisticated (i.e. English) then the “backwards” residents of the highlands and the islands. Burns’ writing brought the language back into respectability, although English is still more widely spoken (And yes, Scots is in fact a unique language. The Scottish Parliament says so).

Anyway, back to the holiday. The traditional way to celebrate Burns Night is with a traditional Scottish feast. What, you ask, is a traditional Scottish feast? Well, I’m glad you asked. A traditional Scottish feast includes: cock a leekie soup; haggis, neeps and tatties; a dram of whisky and cranachan for dessert. Which probably means absolutely nothing to you at all. So, let’s begin at the beginning. Cock a leekie soup is a basic chicken soup with leeks in it. Haggis I will explain in a moment. Neeps and Tatties are turnips and potatoes, which are traditionally served mashed (separately). The whisky requires no explanation. Cranachan is a combination of whipped cream, oatmeal, fresh berries and whisky, served a bit like a parfait.

The center of the feast is, of course, the haggis. Haggis is a quintessentially Scottish food, and, to be honest, I don’t think many other people would eat it. If you’re squeamish, you might want to skip this next bit, because I’m about to explain what, exactly, a haggis is. Haggis, when prepared traditionally, is sheep offal (specifically heart, lungs, and liver), suet (beef fat), oatmeal, nuts or other grains, and combination of spices, all stuffed inside a sheep’s stomach and boiled for three hours. In case you were interested, it is impossible to find haggis in the United States because of two reasons: first, all imports of British meet products have been banned since the BSE outbreak in the 90s, and second, because the FDA bans the use of sheep’s lung in consumer products. It is likely, however, that only the Scottish expatriate community mourns this fact. I don’t think many Americans would willingly eat sheep offal.

Now that I’ve made a few derisive statements about haggis, I feel the need to redeem it. There is nothing wrong with haggis. In fact, I like the fact that more of the animal is used after butchering. Just because they’re the least desirable cuts of meat doesn’t make them inherently gross. Also, I can advocate for the actual edibility of haggis. It tastes just fine, the texture is much like any sausage, and except for attempting to remove the skin after cooking (which is something I always have a hard time with) fairly easy to cook (and no, I did not make my own haggis, I bought it from the butcher’s down the street). I can see how it would become a staple food, especially for poorer people who can’t buy the nicer bits of meat.

Originally written for the Scripps College Off-Campus Study blog

Address to a Haggis

2011-01-25T15:15:00.000-08:00

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great Chieftan o' the Puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn they stretch an' strive,
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if you wish her gratefu' pray'r,
Gie her a Haggis!

- Robert Burns, Poet Laureate of Scotland

And now, the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre

And now for something completely different...

2011-01-16T12:22:00.000-08:00

This is a lovely video by the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theater. We were shown this during program orientation, and as silly as it is, it is still informative.

thoughts on being alone.

2011-01-12T14:01:00.000-08:00

Adventures With Toast (or: Welcome to Your New Flat)

2011-01-12T09:37:00.000-08:00

I experience life through food. That’s just how I function. Because of this, one of the first moments that I really realized I was in a different country was when I was faced with the food selection in my local grocery store. This was on Sunday afternoon, and although I’d been in the country since Wednesday, it hadn’t really seemed real. It was the butter and cheese that had done it. There was so much available that it was sorted by what part of the country it was from. Welcome to Scotland, the land of milk and – well, milk.

Back in my flat, I transferred all of my purchases to the relevant storage location. At this point, I was faced with something else different: the kitchen. An inventory of appliances is as follows: a refrigerator, a microwave, and an electric stove/oven unit with two tiny ovens. That’s it. Oh, except for the hot water pot. Understandably then, I was faced with a bit of a dilemma when I wanted some toast with my cup of tea. There isn’t a toaster.

Fortunately, one of my flatmates was able to enlighten me on the toast making process. I of course completely ignored her directions and muddled it out on my own. Because of this, I now know both what to do and what not to do.

To make toast:

Turn on the top oven to gas 4. Do not, under any circumstances, turn it up to 5 or 6, even if you’re in a hurry.
Place no more than two slices of bread on the toast rack. While it looks like more would fit, this is in fact not the case.
Slide the toast rack into the top rack of the oven. Make sure bread is not touching the heating element.
Watch toast carefully. When bread appears, well, toasty, flip to toast the other side. If you don’t watch the toast carefully, it will burn.
When finished, remove the toast from the oven, turn off, and eat the toast.

Very straight forward, right? However, if you’re like me, you completely ignored the warnings in either step 1 or step 4. And because you ignored these warnings, your toast burned. So, here are some trouble shooting steps.

To salvage toast (complete these steps as quickly as humanly possible):

Quickly pull toast out of the oven.
Open the window, because the fire alarm going off is really not optimal.
Turn the oven off.
Place toast on plate, and cover with topping of your choice. Opaque toppings such as peanut butter or nutella are ideal, as these camouflage the burnt bits.
Sit at the table and act as normal as possible. That way, when your flatmates poke their heads into the kitchen asking if you burned something, you can shake your head and act mystified. “No, not that I know of. But I did make some toast.”

Commence camouflage procedure

Originally written for the Scripps College Off-Campus Study blog

Sidewalks of Buenos Aires

2010-10-03T18:43:00.000-07:00

This may sound like a totally random, and fairly ridiculous topic, but one of the things I adore about Buenos Aires are the sidewalks. They change so much. In the US, the sidewalks are really a public space in that they are built and maintained by the city, which tends to mean a pretty uniform type of paving tile or concrete slab.

In Buenos Aires, this is not so.

As far as I can tell, the building is responsible for the sidewalk directly in front of it. This makes for patchwork sidewalks. There are poured concrete sections, pathways of small square paver stones, portions of patterns pavers, even painted tiles. It is less than predictable, and for some reason, to me, completely lovely. It is just one of the ways that Buenos Aires is different than every other city I have been in. The city has such a lovely mix of everything, not just sidewalk tiles.

I feel like I am part of the city waking up as I walk to work.

Argentina is not a country of early risers. Because of the schedule of the consular division, I work from 8 to 5, which is considered very early to start work. I am on the streets before the rush starts, and see shopowners putting up their awnings, unlocking their doors. I see how every morning the doormen of buildings and the owners of shops wash off the sidewalks in front of their buildings. I feel like an insider, like I get to see the city before it is all shiny and polished and ready for business. And feeling like an insider, well, that feels good.

Things one learns in the post office

2010-09-07T17:40:00.000-07:00

Fact of the day: international postage for a letter (this being an item in an envelope weighing less than one ounce) from the US to anywhere else in the world (not on the North American Continent) is 94 cents. This seems semi-relevant, since several of us will be departing to bits of the world not on the North American Continent at various points throughout the year. I think it will cost more than 94c to get there though.

Notes on France: Red Buttons

2010-07-11T22:55:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know, I’ve been in France for the past 6 weeks. During my time there, I didn’t post anything here, so I’m going to write a few post-posts about my trip and various things in France. During my time there, it was mostly the little cultural differences that I took the most note of. Example: red buttons. Now, I can’t vouch for any other countries, but I know that growing up in the US, at least, has taught me a fear and respect for the omnipresent red button. Maybe it’s the emergency stop in an elevator, maybe it’s the alarm button in a building, maybe in milder cases it’s just a “cancel” button– wherever it’s found, there seems to be a simple rule: Don’t Touch the Red Button. Seriously, you don’t want to go there. Alarms, bells and whistles, the police, Something that you don’t want to happen will happen if you press that button, so it’s best to just leave well enough alone unless the situation is dire. As I discovered my first few weeks abroad, this is not the case in France. The school I went to was about a 25-minute walk from the place I was staying, so I sometimes walked and sometimes took the bus. My first time on the bus, as I was checking my maps and watching every street that went past, determined not to miss my stop, I realized that I didn’t know how to call for the bus to stop. There was no convenient cord to pull on, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I started watching the other passengers, looking for an answer that I found quickly enough – a button! I could see the man press a button on a post, and sure enough, “Arret Demandé” appeared at the front of the bus. I looked for a button in my area, and found one, except…it was red. I watched some more people, and sure enough, seemed to me that the red button was the way to go. Now, logically, it was easy for me to tell myself, “Okay, press the red button when you want to get off the bus,” but it was inexplicably difficult for me to actually press that button. There was even a little picture on the button of a man getting off a bus, but I still had a feeling that something bad would happen when I pressed the button. It didn’t. Even armed with the bus experience, I found myself in a similar situation just last week, in Paris. I was staying at a friend’s apartment, and I was going out to walk around a bit. The apartment entrance has two doors with codes, one to the building, and a set of double-doors to the alley in general. I left the building, got to the alley door, and pulled the handle to go out. The door didn’t open. I tried pushing, still nothing. I looked at the other door. Where the handle should have been was a black contraption with, you guessed it, a big red button in the middle. Now, unlike the bus situation there was no convenient picture, no people around to observe – just me, in an alley, with a red button. I spent about a minute trying the other handle again, looking around on the door for any other opening mechanism, before I finally decided it was probably the red button. I admit, I considered whether or not I could open the latch with a credit card in an attempt to avoid that button, such has it been ingrained in me that Red Buttons Are Bad. Even after coming to the conclusion that it had to be that button, I stood looking at the door for probably another minute, steeling myself, and even as I pressed the button, I was cringing, sure that alarms would sound any second. Again, they didn’t, and it seemed just as illogical to me then as it does now that such a little thing as a red button can override reasonable thinking to the extent that it did for me. Maybe I’ll take comfort in the fact that somewhere, someday, a Frenchman will press an unmarked red button and set off all manner of alarms, because he wasn’t raised with an (un?)healthy paranoia of red buttons.

The Case for Mars: The Musical

2010-06-25T20:30:00.000-07:00

I am a nerd, and I have no problem admitting it. Specifically, I am an astrophysics/ cosmology nerd. My nerd credentials include attending nerd camp at Stanford University (Introduction to Cosmology) and doing astronomy research with a UAA professor senior year of high school. And, here's a secret, I love really nerdy sciencey cool stuff. This ranges from interplanetary trivia to goofy science videos. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where this comes in:

This video was made by a project called Symphony of Science, and there are many more like it. They take snippets of speeches and television programs by prominent astrophysicists, astronomers, physicists, cosmologists, aerospace engineers, etc. and auto-tune them into a song. The goal? "to deliver scientific knowledge and philosophy in musical form." I'd say they do a pretty good job at that. Plus, Carl Sagan is my idol.

Who says textbooks can't be mildly amusing?

2010-06-23T20:14:00.000-07:00

The section we just read in my womens' studies book is entitled "Women, Power, and Politics." One of the issues it discussed was women involvement in the military. In a sidebar about a study done in 2000 on opinions among military men about women serving in the military, I found this tidbit:
"Although a relationship between leadership potential and upper body strength has yet to be discovered, men expressed resentment toward women who were securing leadership roles in the military withough necessarily 'proving' (i.e., women are not required to do as many push-ups as men) that they belonged there."
Interesting. Dry humor aside, this does raise an interesting question: why, exactly, do people object to women serving in the military?

Okay, I'm back

2010-06-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

...and I'll try to stick around a bit more. I have, in fact, been reading ScatteredAK regularly, just not posting. So, for my first return post, I'm going to be lazy by posting something I wrote a while ago instead of writing a new story. But just for now! I'll write original things later. Soon, later. Word of warning: this thing that I wrote is a bit of a rant. Backstory: The College of Engineering sent out a survey this spring toward the end of the semester to all the women (and ONLY the women) asking about their experiences in engineering. This is kind of a sore point for me, as you will see, and ties in in a way to Andrea's recentish post about feminism, which is what gave me the idea to post it in the first place. I'll post three of the questions that were on the survey, and my answers to them, which will pretty effectively explain both the situation and the way I feel about it.

24. How welcoming has the college and/or your department been to you as a woman?

Here's the deal: This survey, like a lot of things in the college of engineering, is really kind of starting to irritate me in regard to my gender. Yes, I am a woman in engineering, but I feel like the college is constantly trying to put me in a box under the guise of "helping me get support, because I'm a woman." I am a PERSON. Yes, I am female. Yes, I am an engineer. But being a female engineer does not define me, and I really don't appreciate being singled out by the college because of it. You may think you have good intentions in trying to help women because they're underrepresented, but I feel like what you're actually doing is reinforcing the archaic idea that being female and an engineer is so unheard-of that we need protection from the big, scary, real world. Stop.

27. Do you feel that the college has adequate support structures in place for women in engineering?

Again: please leave me alone. Constantly bombarding me with "support structures for women" implies that I am not capable of succeeding in engineering without somebody to baby me and lead me along by the hand. This is incredibly offensive. If I were a man, I would be just as capable of excelling in engineering as I am now - I didn't get into the college and the Engineering Honors Program on some kind of special deal because I'm female. I got in because I am good at what I do. I get good grades, I work hard, I am successful. Nowhere in that is my gender relevant. Yes, in hard numbers there are more men than women in engineering, but that doesn't mean that the women are delicate flowers that need protection. It's misogynistic, belittling and offensive. If, for some bizarre reason, I felt the need to seek gender-based support because I couldn't cope, I would seek it. I don't appreciate it being shoved at me at every opportunity. The pervasiveness of the idea that women need extra support in the engineering field appalls me, and I feel that it works against your goals at equality and making everybody feel included. Example: one of my female engineering friends was recently told by a male engineering friend that she had only gotten her excellent summer research position because she was a female engineer and that, had she been male, she would have had to work much harder to get it. Naturally, we were both very offended by this, but I feel that this stems from the culture that CU Engineering creates by treating women as though they need extra help and special treatment. If this attitude weren’t spread around by the departments and staff, the male friend would have recognized the true reason my female friend got the job: because she DESERVED it.

43. Is there anything else you want to tell us about your experiences in engineering?

I would reiterate the part about not singling me out because I'm a woman, but I feel like I've got it just about covered in previous responses. What I said might sound harsh, but I genuinely mean every word of it. Please, please, take it seriously and reconsider your policy toward women in engineering.

Of course, it is not likely that I will ever see any direct results of this input, because I have said things along these lines in previous surveys (albeit not in such length and frustration), and nothing seems to have changed. Maybe next year when the inevitable rash of surveys arrives, I'll write three pages. Or call the dean.

In case you were wondering....

2010-06-15T23:55:00.000-07:00

Err, what's going on with the blog? It looks... different.
Yes, well I'm fiddling with it.
Good lord! Why?
Honestly? I got bored. I'm in Arizona, and it's hot, so it's not like I can go outside or anything like that.
Yes, but... Why?
Oh, well, specifically, I thought the blog needed some sprucing up. See, the internet is an exciting place with lots of exciting things to do and see and, lets face it, our blog was a little boring to look at. So, I'm fixing it up a bit.
Who, exactly, gave you the right to do that?
Well, I suppose Sam did, seeing as she gave me admin privileges. Also... I seem to be the only one posting right now. It's very sad. Please, come back guys! I miss you! And my blog posts are kind of boring. Please come back...
Umm... Yeah, back to the blog...
Oh! Right! Sorry... Essentially, the blog needed a make over. And I have a lot of time on my hands, so I decided to do it.
Well, what exactly is happening, then?
Honestly? I'm not sure yet. I'm trying a few different things out, trying to see what I think works. There will probably be lots of changes that don't stay. There will probably be a lot of changes that are atrocious, but will stay for a while because I have nothing better to fix it with. Menus will move, labels will change, the Universe will come together in harmony. Ok, maybe not that last one. Anyway, most changes will be temporary. Probably.
Ah. So, there's no grand plan then, is there?
Well, not really, no. The ultimate goal is just to make something that I think is both pleasing to look at and is easy to navigate. Very likely, this will involve me learning another computer language (CSS) in an attempt to get things exactly the way I want them. Edit: yes, I do in fact need to learn a little CSS to get this thing working. Bear with me people, this could result in some really strange things if I screw up. It might be a while before something sticks and I stop messing with it. See something you like? Have an idea? E-mail me and I'll see what I can do.
Any idea when you'll be done?
Haven't the foggiest. I'm sure the changes will slow down when I get home, simply because the internet speed there is a tenth of what it is here. I miss home, but not that part. Additionally, something final will probably happen by the end of the summer, because I will have a lot more important things to do when I get back to school.
Uh-huh. Well, have fun with that.
Oh don't worry, I will.

The Varied and Exciting Adventures of Andrea and the New Shoes

2010-06-15T22:24:00.000-07:00

Today, I did something unbelievably stupid: I wore new shoes. While this by itself isn't terribly stupid, what is stupid is wearing a new pair of shoes on a day you will be doing a lot of walking. Which for me is everyday. So, wearing new shoes was a bit of a bad move. Which resulted in an interesting day.

1. The shoes
I got a box in the mail from home yesterday. Within: a new pair of shorts (yay!) and a new pair of shoes. The shoes were somewhat unexpected; my mom bought them for me because she thought I'd like them, and I do. They are white canvas, sort of a cross between a sneaker and a ballet flat. Comfortable sneaker footbed, cute ballet flat scoop. What's not to love?

2. The walk
I walk to class everyday. It takes around 15 minutes for me to get from my dorm to class. While ASU is, to me anyway, an enormous campus, this is roughly equivalent to me walking from my Scripps dorm to my computer science class at the north end of Pomona. Except for the heat, it's rather a nice walk. After class, I walk to the student union to grab lunch. This takes about 10 minutes if I'm going slowly, which I tend to be. After lunch, I walk back to my dorm, another 10 minutes or so. Significant walking? Not really, but it's not exactly short either.

3. The problem
So, walking to class in new shoes. After about the first hundred feet or so, I noticed that the shoes were rubbing on the back of my heel. After another hundred feet, that rubbing was starting to get painful. Unfortunately, I had to keep going in order to get to class on time. When I sat down in class, I pulled my shoes off; I already had blisters the size of quarters on the back of both heels. During my break, I stuffed some toilet paper in the heel of my shoes in an attempt to cushion them. It didn't work. The toilet paper just ended up stuffed under my foot.

4. The walk again
So here I am in class with blisters, and I need to walk to lunch and then back to my room. I figured the walk to the student union wouldn't be too awful if I walked briskly, instead of strolling as I usually did. I was wrong. Sitting down to eat was fantastic, it meant I didn't have to walk. After lunch, with the prospect of another walk ahead of me, I did the logical thing: took my shoes off and started walking back barefoot. What could possibly go wrong?

5. And you thought this would be obvious.
New thing I learned today: if the air is hot, the ground is probably hot too. Being the swarthy Alaskan I am (who am I kidding?), I like walking around barefoot. In the summer, I don't put on shoes unless I have too. Like, for example, when it's 70 degrees outside and the back deck is too hot to walk on. Clearly, I should have realized that when it's 100 degrees outside, the ground would be even hotter. Nah. And so, half way down a flight of outdoor stairs, I start hopping up and down like a crazy person and rush to the modest shade provided by a trash can. The bottoms of my feet (under a healthy layer of dirt) were bright pink, bordering on red. I had just successfully burned the bottoms of my feet on pavement.

6. The walk, continued
Big 'ole blisters, check. Burned feet, check. A decent walk back to my room, check. And so, I folded down the back of my new shoes and wore them like slides, shuffling home. It hurt.

7. The conclusion
Did I do something extremely stupid today? Why yes, yes I did. Did I learn my lesson? I sure as heck hope so.

Armed with neosporin, band aids, and thick socks, I have mostly solved the problems I caused today. Do my feet still hurt? Absolutely, but it's my own fault. The exciting bit will be walking to class tomorrow. I can tell you one thing: I won't be wearing my new shoes.

collegate improvisation

2010-06-03T21:57:00.000-07:00

Roses! yet, alas,
I have no vase for them. To
Save the day? Nalgene!

Feminism, sheminism

2010-06-03T15:41:00.000-07:00

Feminism talks
Reveal age gaps in thoughts, ideas
Generations change?

For my womens' studies class today, we had a slightly strange assignment: ask three people what the first three words that think of when the hear the word "feminist." Just for background, this class is conducted online, so there is only asynchronous communication in a forum. I got my answers last night, and wrote up my forum post before heading off to my other class this morning. When I had a chance to look at the other posts this afternoon, I was genuinely surprised. There was a very clear distinction between positive and negative reactions amongst my classmates, but the breakdown wasn't what you would think. Instead of there being an opposition between genders, there was a very strong opposition between generations*.

Those of the older group, especially the women, had negative thoughts about feminism. One mentioned something her brother said about all feminists being lesbians and man haters, and agreed with him. Another woman mentioned that she was all for equality "but absolutely not a feminist." To me, that is exactly what a feminist is; someone who believes in equality between men and women. I was more than a little surprised by the obvious discomfort these older women had with the term "feminist."

Among the younger posters, including the men**, were much more genial opinions. One was positively shocked that his brother-in-law used the word "dyke" to describe femininists, another was horified that his younger sister (who he mentioned was in middle school) said something about angry man eaters. One of the men acknowledged that he was a feminist, and received some rather negative feedback from some of the older female posters.

This brings up several questions for me. While I don't actually know anyone's age, why is it that the seemingly older posters have a negative reaction to feminism? Why are we accepting of the negative reactions of older men, and unhappy with the positive reactions of the younger? This generation gap puzzles me. Aren't these older posters part of an enlightened and liberated generation of women?

I will be happy to say that I am a feminist. As a female scientist, I dislike the portrayals of scientists as men. How many people know that Rosaline Franklin took the first pictures of DNA and that her lab partners, Watson and Crick, stole her work? As a student at a womens' college, I find it particularly aggravating that I, as a scientist, am not taken seriously by the faculty and administrators at my own college. As a physicist, I resent the snide comments I get from the more socially acceptable female chem and bio majors.

So my big question is, what happened here?

When did we stop caring, and when did we start again?

When will no one care about gender anymore?

*This is of course, entirely based on speculation. Those who mention children or nieces or "my 80 year-old mother" I assume are of at least one generation previous to mine. The same is true of the guy who mentioned he's a resident at a hospital and the woman who used the phrase "back when I graduated."

**Again, some speculation. Some first names are obviously masculine, so I assume they're men. There's also the mysterious Terry, who I haven't decided on yet...

A tragedy of food

2010-06-02T18:49:00.000-07:00

Tikka Masala,
Six twenty-seven, but I
Have only six dollars.

Registration sucks

2010-04-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

"Permission denied"
Can't get into class I need
Registration fail

Warning, Danger, Alarm! (or not)

2010-04-22T13:04:00.000-07:00

This morning, at about 11:15, I was shot by a masked man who had broken into the building on Pomona where I was working.

Well, almost.

Well, not really.

I guess I should explain.

This morning, when I got out of class, I went directly to the Computer Science lounge to work on my assignment, which is due at midnight. The CS lounge is a lovely room with large glass walls and lots of computers and white boards. There happened to be about six or seven other people with me in the lounge at the time, and suddenly, their phones all went off. Then they got up and left the room. Dominick, who's in my class, stuck his head around the door frame and asked "Are you coming?"

At this point, I was understandably a bit confused. Several phones just rang all at once, and everyone but me left. And then I was being asked to go somewhere. Where were we going, and why did we need to go there?

The answer came to me a few seconds later as the network manager for the CS department came out of his office and said to me "well, if you keep sitting there, you're going to get shot, and it won't be my problem at that point."

Apparently, Pomona was having a lock down. A lock down drill, to be exact, but they were giving citations to anyone found outside a designated safe room. As I followed a small, ragtag group of professors and students into the "safe room" in that building, I pondered how incredibly fractured the campus notification system is. If I had been alone, and this had been a real lock down, I would be dead by now.

The problem is both easy and understandable. Despite our designation as "The Claremont Colleges" run by the "Claremont University Consortium," we're still one big campus split up into five different colleges (seven, if Claremont Graduate University and Keck Graduate Institute are included). Each of the colleges runs their own affairs without much interference from any of the other colleges. The only shared resources are the library, campus safety, student health, and the office of the chaplains. Among the services not shared are the registrar's offices, the grounds departments, the catering departments, and the campus notification systems.

At last, the sticking point. There are five (or seven) colleges, each with their own notification system. Being a Scripps student, I am registered on the Scripps emergency notification system. If there is a lock down, or an earth quake drill, or any other situation, I get a text message relaying that information. This is great when I'm on campus, but it has one major flaw: there are five colleges, and I could be on any given campus at any given time.

From this, two scenarios arise. The first is pretty harmless: a Scripps only drill happens, and I'm not on Scripps. No problem, it doesn't effect me. The second scenario, though, is potentially much more dangerous: I'm not on Scripps, and something happens on the campus I'm on. The students around me will get text messages and phone calls, but, just like this morning, I'll be out of the loop. Or another scenario: something happens on Pomona's north campus, but students in the CMC dorms just across the street will have no idea that there is any danger.

There is, clearly, a simple solution for this: make one, big emergency notification list with all students from all five schools on it. Problem solved. Having a lock down drill on Pomona? Send all students the message "lock down drill, Pomona" or something of the sort. Those who are on Pomona at the time will know, those who aren't on Pomona will know, but won't care. Problem solved.

For know though, I have to settle for what I can get. So thank you, Dominick, for making sure I wasn't shot. If you're ever on Scripps, I'll return the favor.

State of Existence

2010-04-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

It's a census year. We all know that. Everywhere, there are signs and posters telling us that the census is a "portrait of America" and that "everyone counts." It's the way that the government keeps count of how many people are in the country. And of course, the census is also how the government decides to divvy up the 435 seats in the House of Representatives. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where I have a problem.

I am a resident of the state of Alaska. I am registered to vote in the state of Alaska. I receive my credit card bill in the state of Alaska. I receive my PFD every year because of the fact that I live in the state of Alaska. I currently attend school in the state of California. However, this school has listed my permanent address as being in the state of Alaska. So clearly, when I fill out the census, I should be counted as a resident of Alaska when it comes time to hand out those 435 seats, right?

Wrong.

As I was told (with a straight face) by the census worker I asked, the census is "a snapshot of America on April first," census day. And because of this, since I was in the state of California on April first, I am considered a resident of California and will be counted as such when it comes time to hand out seats. So too, I learned, would international students attending college in California. When I asked why, the census worker (after proudly showing off some sort of badge that meant he got to answer my questions) began to explain to me the origins of the census, and that it is administered by the federal government because states could exaggerate the number of residents they had in order to get more Representatives. Which, of course, was not the answer to the question I asked.

As a resident of the state of Alaska, I will happily stand up and be counted.

But not, as it seems, in Alaska.

Haiku for a rainy day

2009-12-07T21:21:00.000-08:00

The rain comes down for
Several hours, non-stop
Drip drop, plip plop, splash.

Thanksgiving Days

2009-11-24T12:29:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is a day
For turkey, and football
Pies and the Macy's parade.

But it is also a chance
for poor tired students
to go home
and sleep.

I fly three hours
And then another four
to be home in my bed.

I fly not only for pie,
But also for snow, and home.
For friends
For family.

And so, I go
With my suitcase and backpack
And no work, for a time.

I go home.

Conformity

2009-11-16T19:17:00.000-08:00

Conformity.
It keeps us running.
Stop to catch a breath, then we keep running.
Never going to stop going in circles.
We like to hide by the game of camouflage because we know
we can win.
So keep your head down
and keep your pace up
and you’ll be okay.

Safety is conformity.

Oh, boring!
It’s all the same!
Stop ignoring yourself.
They are not your definition,
so wake up from your sad condition,
losing yourself
to everyone else.
Who are you?
Yeah, you?
Yeah, you?
Yeah,
you?

Strike off on a trail on your own!
It’s not safe, and you might feel alone.
But you’re not! No, you’re not.
No, you’re not alone.
And you are free,
free to be,
free to see,
so look around
and listen to the sound
of peace.

Is Anybody Out There?

2009-11-04T13:36:00.000-08:00

Please excuse our many
Absences, for it's that we
Have not enough time.

We all have, you see
much academically, and
Cannot be here now.

In short (and simple)
We do not have enough time
To update our blog.

Sorry.

Grand Canyon Trip

2009-09-28T19:54:00.000-07:00

Pretty Sunset seen on the way to a football game

2009-09-23T23:17:00.001-07:00

a lovely composition

2009-09-22T15:48:00.000-07:00

Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

Maybe they should check their symptoms...

2009-09-22T12:28:00.000-07:00

I received an e-mail this morning from the lovely institution that I attend. It was well intentioned I'm sure. But logical...?

The email is a warning about heat stroke, and other heat related problems. There's currently a heat wave here, with the temperature right now above 100. And so, this e-mail. I shall present you with a few excerpts.

"The Los Angeles County Health Officer, Dr. Jonathan E. Fielding, would like to remind everyone that precautions should be taken, especially by those people sensitive to the heat. 'While people don’t need to be told it’s hot outside, they do need to be reminded to take care of themselves [...] when the weather gets hotter,' said Jonathan E. Fielding, MD, MPH, Director of Public Health and Health Officer. 'When temperatures are high, prolonged sun exposure may cause dehydration, heat cramps, heat exhaustion, and heat stroke.'"

Useful information, it's true. The risks of heat related illness are very real, and it's easy to forget how long you've been out and that you need to drink more water. But wait, there's more:

"If you plan to be outdoors, take precautions to protect yourself from the heat. Symptoms of dehydration and heat cramps include dizziness, fatigue, faintness, headaches, muscle cramps, and increased thirst. Individuals with these symptoms should be moved to a cooler, shaded place and given water or sport drinks. More severe symptoms such as diminished judgment, disorientation, pale and clammy skin, a rapid and weak pulse, and/or fast and shallow breathing may indicate heat exhaustion or impending heat stroke and requires immediate medical attention."

Scary. But, hold on. Diminished judgement? Really? Ok, I'm not knocking the truth of this, but I would say that diminished judgement has something to do with the following instructions to students.

• During peak heat hours stay in an air-conditioned area. If you don’t have access to air conditioning in your home, visit public facilities such as shopping malls, parks, and libraries to stay cool.
• Avoid unnecessary exertion, such as vigorous exercise during peak sun hours, if you are outside or in a non-air conditioned building.
• Stay out of the sun if you do not need to be in it. When in the sun, wear a hat, preferably with a wide brim, and loose-fitting clothing with long sleeves and pants to protect yourself from sun damage.

Objection 1:
Only three dorms and one class building have reliable air conditioning. The other two buildings and six dorms do not. The other four campuses have a similar situation, with some newer buildings having AC, and most older buildings not. Students will have spotty access to air conditioning at best, and none at worst. Strike one.

Objection 2:
Students are required to exert themselves to get anywhere on campus. The wonderful faculty and staff have access to a wide range of campus-owned golf carts, but students either walk, bike, unicycle, skateboard, or scooter their way to class. And when one has to, for example, get from the middle of the southern most campus up to the north end of the northern most campus in ten minuets, "unnecessary exertion" is the least of their worries. Strike two.

Objection 3:
I'm not sure if I'm reading this right. "Stay out of the sun" it says. Hmm. Well, when that campus wide umbrella is built, this may be possible. In the mean-time, students are, as I mentioned above, out and about going to class and office hours and hanging out in the courtyards and sunbathing conveniently in the path of the shirtless CMS cross country team... In short, not avoiding the sun. While some of those activities are unnecessary (except the sunbathing, clearly), some are unavoidable. Students do still have to walk to class... Strike three.

You're out.

Now, would you like some water, Scripps? You're looking a little disoriented.

Tiananmen

2009-09-16T10:17:00.000-07:00

I really love this poem- I think it is incredibly powerful.

Tiananmen
Is broad and clean
And you can't tell
Where the dead have been
And you can't tell
What happened then
And you can't speak
Of Tiananmen.

You must not speak.
You must not think.
You must not dip
Your brush in ink.
You must not say
What happened then,
What happened there,
In Tiananmen.

The cruel men
Are old and deaf
Ready to kill
But short of breath
And they will die
Like other men
And they'll lie in state
In Tiananmen.

They lie in state.
They lie in style.
Another lie's
Thrown on the pile,
Thrown on the pile
By the cruel men
To cleanse the blood
From Tiananmen.

Truth is a secret.
Keep it dark.
Keep it dark
In your heart of hearts.
Keep it dark
Till you know when
Truth may return
To Tiananmen.

Tiananmen
Is broad and clean
And you can't tell
Where the dead have been
And you can't tell
When they'll come again
They'll come again
To Tiananmen.

by James Fenton

The Time Has Come

2009-08-26T12:33:00.000-07:00

As it is now late August, a terrible time has come upon us. We may wail, beat our chests, and cry pitiosly, but the march of time cannot be stopped. And so we sadly pack our suitcases and bid a tearful goodbye to summer.

Some of us have already returned to school. Some of us will be back soon. Two of us will be starting college for the first time. And as exciting as it is to be reunited with friends from around the country (or to meet new ones), there is still a certain sadness involved when the time comes to leave home (note: the author has only been home for the last week and is not yet sick and tired of having nothing to do but sit around all day).

But inevitably, go we must. We go to new roommates and new classes, often in old buildings with old professors. We go to clubs, dance teams, afternoon tea and bible study (to each their own). We go with memories of exotic, far away places, exciting adventures, and plenty of new photographs.

And most of all, we go with the knowledge that this year, perhaps, can be just a little better then the year before. We'll try something new, meet someone new, learn something new. With each year, so may new things, and there's no going back.

The time has come.

A mathematical proof-- in haiku!

2009-08-12T14:01:00.000-07:00

Both an awesome proof, and a rather astute observation...

(http://xkcd.com/622/ if you must know)

The Trials (and Errors) of Traveling

2009-07-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, I stood in the 100 degree heat. I was waiting for my taxi.

Not a very good beginning, but that's how it started.

I was on the side of Mills Avenue, the street that divides Pitzer and Scripps campuses. I chose this spot because it's the only street address I knew for Pitzer. 1050 N. Mills Ave., aka Pitzer admissions office, Smith Campus Center. I didn't intend to be there long, I had about ten minuets before my taxi was supposed to be there. The time was 2:20. My train left the station in Pomona at 3:10.

A little while later, I checked my watch. 2:40. My taxi was ten minuets late. I called the company, and no-one answered the phone. I started to panic. I dialed 411 on my phone, and was given the number for Claremont Yellow Cab. I called them, and explained that I had called ahead for a cab from another company, and it hadn't shown up. I was catching a train leaving at 3:10. I needed a cab as soon as possible.

"Oh, yeah, we got a cab near you, just wait a little, they'll come get ya."

It was hot out there. I had been saving my water bottle for the train, but I took a few sips in a futile effort to cool off. I was getting nervous. Where was my cab? I looked at my watch again. 2:50. Twenty minuets before my train left. I called the company again.

"Oh, looks like we've got a cab about 20 minuets away, they'll come get you"

I explained again that my train left in 20 minuets, that was too long, I would miss my train. I couldn't miss that train. The response was apathetic at best. I was told that this was they best they could do, so I was stuck.

I started to cry. Then I had an idea. I prayed it would work, that it wasn't too late. I called the 1-800 number for Amtrak. The woman I got on the phone was very understanding. "Oh, don't worry about it hon. Just you try and get yourself to Ontario. Now remember, that train leaves at 3:35. You've got about 45 minuets to catch it. Just you try and get yourself a cab." I thanked her profusely, and waited.

At 3:05 my cab came. I got in and said "Ontario Amtrak station, please."

The driver turned to look at me. "But I'm supposed to take you to Pomona."

I took a deep breath and explained that yes, he was supposed to take me to Pomona, but that train left in five minuets, so now I had to get to the next stop, which is Ontario, and it would be appreciated if we got there quickly.

He still looked puzzled. "But, Ontario's east 'a here. Pomona's west. It's the other way." I gave up, and just asked again that he get me to Ontario.

After a minuet or too, I told him that I was going to pay with credit card. He scowled. "We don't like no credit cards, miss. The company charges us somethin awful for them. It's like eight percent. Do you have an ATM card?" I said yes, it's a debit card. He shook his head. "No, I mean like, we stop at a bank and you go get me some cash."

Honestly, I was stunned. To be fair, I don't think he meant it to be as menacing as it sounded. I think the guy just wanted to be paid in cash, thank you very much. Still, this frightened me slightly. I made the excuse that there probably wasn't enough time. Which was true.

We pulled into the station at 3:20. I handed him my card and waited for him to process it. It seemed to take several minuets, but I'm sure it was maybe one or two. I was just frantic to get on that train, now that I'd made it. I got out of the cab, thanked him, and ran across the street to the platform.

At this point, I discovered another problem. Since I was originally leaving from Pomona, I didn't have an actual ticket. At the Pomona station, they have little ticket dispenser machines, and you key in your confirmation code to get your ticket. This was not the case here. There were no dispensers to be found.

I asked around, and learned that to leave from this station, you had to get your tickets mailed to you.

To put it bluntly, I didn't have a ticket.

The train pulled up. I was trying not to cry again. I just wanted to get on that train. The conductor got out, and started to direct people to the appropriate car for their destination. Mine was down near the end. I got to the door, where there was a gentleman checking tickets and assigning seats. I showed him my paper, with the confirmation code and started to explain- when he cut me off. "Seat 58 is open."

I entered the train and climbed the tiny little staircase. on the second level, there were about a hundred rows of seats. I looked for seat number 58, and found it. I sat down, and relaxed. I'd made it.

The train pulled out from the station.

A young man tapped on my shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, you're sitting in my seat." I looked around. "This is seat 58, isn't it?" "Yes, and it's mine." I got up, and stood in the aisle. Once again, a small catastrophe. Eventually, the man who had told me where to sit came up the steps and down the aisle. I got his attention, and explained. He looked confused, and consulted his chart.

"Oh, well, 56 should be open." he turned around, and looked at the seat in question. There was an elderly woman sitting in it. "Did you move?" he asked her, rather gruffly. She shook her head, and told him smugly that he himself had seated her there. He looked at his chart again, and started moving down the rows of seats. Finally, he found one that was unoccupied on his (somewhat dubious) chart, and in reality. I sat there. It was a window seat, and the seat next to me was empty. I sat for a few minuets and watched the dregs of civilisation float past my window.

The conductor came up, and started collecting tickets. When he got to me, I started to explain that I didn't have a ticket, but I did buy one and that my taxi... and then the other taxi... and I found out that the station... He laughed. "Oh, it's fine," he said, "your credit card is only used to hold the ticket anyway. Say, how much did they quote you for online?" I told him. "Really? Now that's a bit much. Here, you've had a tough day. How bouts I give it to you for 20 less?"

I thanked him profusely, an handed him my card. He gave me a ticket, marked the seat taken and moved on down the aisle.

I had made it.

An Ode to an Ant (and a hundred more)

2009-06-12T23:27:00.000-07:00

Oh ant,
Why do you insist
Upon living in my bathroom?

You may be small
But you are a large nuisance,
Walking across the counter

Outside, I hear,
Is a very nice place to live
Much better then under
A leaky sink

What do you eat,
Oh ant?
For the bathroom does not have
Any food.

One day,
I will enter the bathroom
And you will be gone.

If my maintenance request is filled.

The Contents of my Snack Box on the Airplane from Shanghai to Xi'an

2009-06-08T08:44:00.001-07:00

-Dried apple and sweet potato chips

-a roll

-some sort of cakeishness

-water

-onion cookies with original flavor

-yi lin dried radish

fun image...

2009-05-03T23:25:00.001-07:00

Bread! (and the Aimie encounter)

2009-04-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, so there are two events in this set of pictures. One is proof of the highly exciting meeting of Aimie and Rianne in Texas. We failed quite miserably at self-photography, so we had to get somebody else to take a good picture of us. Still, fun times were had in Texas, and I learned that the Baylor dining halls are far superior to our own.
Event 2: BREAD! For our Intro to Chemical Engineering class, we had to come up with an egg drop project, that was supposed to somehow involve or be based off of a chemical compound or chemical reaction. This was to be dropped out of an 8th-floor window in the Engineering Center. Our group decided that the best plan of action was to make a massive loaf of bread, and stick the egg in the middle. We figured while we were at it, we would make some more bread just to eat, because bread is quite good. So we made three batches of dough, which in hindsight was probably excessive, but we ended up with lots of nice bread. Interestingly, I had chosen this recipe for its simplicity and short ingredient list, and because the reviews said it was basically impossible to screw up – not based on any flavor criteria whatsoever. Turns out, it was ridiculously tasty, and so we were glad we had made so much dough. So, we used the biggest round one as the project bread, and the other loaves were for consumption. Day of the drop, I was cutting a hole in the bread to put the egg in, and then we were going to reseal it with the core and some peanut butter. When I cut and removed a core of the bread, I noticed there was a hole underneath it. Turns out, the giant loaf of bread had a large hollow in the center. Don’t get me wrong, there was still about 2 inches of thickness on all sides, but there was also a large cavern in the center of the bread, which is not conducive to cushioning an egg. So, after a panicked call to a teammate, we decided to pack it with Kleenex and call it good. So, I dropped it off in its little grocery bag with no further ado. Although I wasn't actually at the egg drop to see it, our egg did survive its miraculous flight from the 8th story of the engineering tower. However, the official egg-drop-droppers neglected to remove it from the bag before throwing it out the window. This didn’t affect the performance of our loaf, but it did make it look a little less cool. And such was the fate of the large loaf. The smaller round one, we gave half to the people whose kitchen we had used, and half went to one of the guys in our group. The two baguette-shaped things both came back to Hallett, and were entirely gone before 24 hours was up. Yum.

Sprinkler On a Sunny Day

2009-04-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

As the heat
Rises
My attention
Drops
Like water I
wish
I could be in

Class, at
100
Is an impossible
Feat
In a building
Without
Air conditioning

En clase, hacíamos
hablado
Del calor, y pensamos
De frío
Cunado aprendiendo
La tema
De pluscuampefecto

Returning from lunch,
I see
A sprinkler, watering
the lawn
I forget the tests
exams
And other worries, just

R U N

Okay, here I am!

2009-04-15T20:31:00.000-07:00

So, just got back from the third Diff Eq midterm, and this conversation between my roommate and I summed it up pretty well, I think:
Background: We had just left the testing room. 5-question, 100-point test, 1st section "multiple choice" (but it really was short answer) had 6-6point subquestions, no partial credit, with the other other 4 sections adding up to the remaining 64 points.

"So, how did it go?" I asked.
"It seemed pretty good...well, I didn't really get 2c or 5c. And I didn't really know what I was doing on the multiple choice section on the front either. But aside from that-"
"So, besides half the test, it went pretty well?"
"Yeah, that's about right."

And that was about how I felt, too. In these situations, there is only one thing to do:
Hope everyone else did worse.

2009-04-10T14:45:00.000-07:00

It is amazing
How quickly some people find
What they want to do.

Somehow it feels like
No matter what I study
I'll have to catch up.

gotta love the wisdom of college students...

2009-04-09T22:45:00.000-07:00

Is there really anything left to say?

Graffiti

2009-04-07T15:06:00.001-07:00

SCISSOR ME SCRIPPSIES
Reads one, in bright orange spray paint
In the driveway of the alumni house.

EVERY LASH
Says another, in green
On the way to the dining hall

(DICK)TATION
Cry others, in many colors
In front of the dorms
On the tree walk
On the lawn
Maturely written with a phallus,
Rather than words

Last week, another,
Sprayed on a plaster wall
Behind my dorm
Declared us all lesbians
And worthy of punishment
Although the wording
Was much less eloquent

What have we done
To deserve such words?
Such hate?
Such malice?
Such defamation?

Perhaps, one whispers,
We've done nothing.
This voice gets stronger,
Repeating the phrase.

We've done nothing
Nothing to deserve any of this
Except one thing:

We learn.

We are a community of women,
Living and learning together.
We support each other,
Respect each other,
Love each other.

This, the voice says, must be why.

By being independent.

By considering ourselves equals.

By working to be more than just women.

By learning.

To the men who've done this
For they must be male,
We offer you this:

No

Mercy.

Late at night

2009-04-06T02:15:00.000-07:00

i sit on my bed

feel the tenseness in my shoulders

a combination

of exercise classes,

carrying water,

and stress

i stare at my computer screen

willing my thoughts to arrange themselves into an essay

look through old photos

read and reread the texts

wish i could just go to sleep

i sit

listen to the hum of the air

the soft breath of my roommate

and chill music from pandora

i sit

my mind preoccupied with my to-do list for the week

always thinking of the next thing

but

maybe

for now

I will live

just today

i sit

and i listen

and i think

i think of that girl trapped in the wallpaper

too weak?

just caught,

pinned into a role she has no desire to inhabit

i am not that girl

i will live for me

pursue my passions

my interests

once i figure out just what they are

but for now

i sit

i think

i begin to write.

Most Epic Trilingual Scrabble Game Ever

2009-03-30T11:28:00.000-07:00

Possibly a Successful Slideshow of Camping in the Chiracahuas

2009-03-25T22:46:00.001-07:00

A few more excellent quotations

2009-03-25T21:59:00.000-07:00

Am I not using this door right?

-Loni

It's a complicated equation involving the location of my dad's desk, the TV, and the prevailing couches...

-Eric (on which room in his house is the family room)

Yes I am THAT short

2009-03-25T15:13:00.000-07:00

any mail in box?

unfortunately, no clue

time to jump and see

Orange Blossoms

2009-03-23T13:46:00.000-07:00

Orange blossoms smell

Sweet and soft, like jasmine the

Scent is heavenly

It was a little Ridiculous

2009-03-22T22:31:00.000-07:00

The epic bra search
Spanned two days and was, at last
Successful. Very good

Hooray for Brassieres
That fit! But I can't spend that
Much money again.

Jeepers, creepers, why don't you close those peepers?

2009-03-04T13:11:00.000-08:00

Peeping toms
across the street
second floor balcony
of the Mudd dorm

pass a cigarette
amongst themselves

see me looking

smile

and give
a jaunty wave

A Haiku on Fire Alarms, and How Much They Annoy Me

2009-02-21T21:14:00.000-08:00

I sat, serene, the
Room was quiet, still, empty
The alarm went off

I stand, in the wet
Grass and consider, glad I
Was not showering

The moral of this
Story is that one must use
More care when cooking

Completely random and Very Funny Quotations

2009-02-18T23:14:00.000-08:00

From a random girl I walked past in front of the MU-

"...and then I told him...there is like no way those could be my pajamas...I don't even own any pajamas!"

"...and then we get to the Count (a character in the Marriage of Figaro) who, lets face it, is basically a complete asshole." -Dr. Jacquie Scott (my badass human event teacher who wears gorgeous clothing, great heels, and is a totally awesome feminist...)

In my Bones, Stones, Human Evolution textbook-

"The chances of a structure like the human eye arising completely by chance are like a hurricane blowing through a junkyard and by chance assembling a Boeing 747"

"God Bless Women...its the little things you learn, like you will never again wear jeweled underwear to pilates, because that cute little jewel is now forever imprinted into your back."

-Pilates teacher

"Basically...people have sex. And then along comes a baby."

-Dr. Thomas Puleo (who, incidently is the best dressed male professor I have ever met)

shouldve had this one for zits last year...

2009-02-12T06:11:00.000-08:00

xkcd.com

I walked past...then I backed up and walked past again...

2009-02-10T22:28:00.000-08:00

...hmm

The Happiest Place On Earth

2009-02-04T21:44:00.000-08:00

Disneyland is a place

Far outside of time and space

There are no papers

Summer Research Snafus

2009-02-03T22:43:00.000-08:00

What do you mean that
I have to have a research
Proposal next mon.?

Neologism contest

2009-02-02T11:37:00.000-08:00

I suspect you're all the sort to like this sort of thing... :P

Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words. Enjoy!

The winners are:
1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n .) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners:
1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright idea s from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of having sex.
3. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
6. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
7. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.
8. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.
9. Karmageddon (n): It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
10. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
11. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.
12. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
13. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
14. Beelzebug (n.) : Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
15. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.
And the pick of the literature:
16. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

Slideshow Help

2009-01-24T00:01:00.000-08:00

I have been trying to get the slideshow to function....and as far as you all can probably can see, it is not working very well. I have a bunch of pics tagged scattered_alaska, and the only one that shows up is Justin in Prince William Sound. While a lovely picture, there are plenty of other ones I would like to show up... And it now seems to be working in the preview window but not actually on the blog...but now it is only showing like the five pics Rianne has posted...so confusing.

And don't stop reading at my boring post, Andrea has a lovely picture and poetry down below.

Photos on a Rainy Day

2009-01-23T17:30:00.000-08:00

I wake, the sky is
dark, full of clouds, pregnant with
moisture, class beckons

Physics class, too warm
California heat on a
Chilly winter day

Outside the chill soaks
Into my clothes, the sky glows
With light from nowhere

Grab my camara,
The lighting is perfect for
photos, soft and clean

Drip, drip, the trees drop
Moisture onto the bright red
Of my umbrella

Soft light makes flowers
Glow from within, flash! destroyed
By forgetfulness

Settings reset, once
More I attempt to compose
Colors in a shot

A lilly in the
Fountain glows, gold fish swim below
Disturb reflection

Leaves float in a small
Puddle between paving stones
Forever captured

Deep blue iris glistens
With beads of water, each one
Attracts the eye more

A lamp-post stands, alone
The curve of a bench accents
The unyeilding form

The battery quits
Protests the hours my camara
Has spent on this day

Return in the rain
I glance behind, so many
Potential pictures

Fire Goddess Confession

2009-01-20T15:35:00.000-08:00

On the evening of January 4th our dear friend Emily came up to me at Aimie's birthday party. Putting her arm around my shoulders, she said, "You know I hate to say this but it's a bit too cold for skiing. Do you think you could warm things up a bit?"

Now everyone knows I am the Fire Goddess, Bane to Skiiers and their precious snow. Thankfully in past years we have come to an agreement. They give me cheesecake and they can keep their cold snow. I had never had a Skiier ask me to make things warmers but I assumed it would require the same payment.

"You have cheesecake?"

Emily shook her head. "No, but we are eating pretty good ice cream cake. That should be enough."

"Ok, I'll see what I can do."

What Emily and I failed to take note of was that we were eating sacred ice cream cake of the mint chip variety. Two days after I got back from Nome the temperature started to rise and as most of you know the rest of the story is history. Ski races, school, and a lot of other things were canceled because of too much warmth.

The moral of this story: Don't ask the Fire Goddess to make it warm until spring and don't underestimate the power of the sacred ice cream.

Psycho Weather

2009-01-15T22:52:00.000-08:00

All this fall, people in Tempe asked me how I stood Alaska in the winter, why I didn't simply freeze into one big popsicle...and so on. I tended to reply with my various tour guide-y facts about Anchorage being more temperate than one might think, and actually in most cases having a milder winter than the Midwest. I would also mention that you can always put on more clothing but can only take so much clothing off... Had this been a more normal winter that is the case, and granted it is the case, but 10 below is absolutely freezing no matter what excuses one offers up.

I was home during a cold snap...yuck...and it was long too! I personally blame it on Justin, cause the day after he left the temp went within the average range again. I recognize there isn't NECESSARILY a causal relationship, but I still maintain that the cold snap was his fault...

I was looking at the weather page, which has a graph of the past week or so of high and low temperatures, along with lines that delineate the average highs and lows for this time of the year. Anchorage went from days of having the high be near or below the average low temperature, to Monday when the temp range was within the averages to Tuesday and Wednesday highs being WAY above normal highs.

The last two days ASD has canceled school because the warm temps put a lovely layer of water on top of the existing ice, I think Alaska may be the only place where school gets canceled because it is too warm :) It has also been gusting wind, hard enough that the house sounds like it is about to lift up like something from the Wizard of Oz and my mom is afraid the wind will take out one of the trees around our property which would probably NOT be a good thing because many of them are tall enough that they would most likely hit the house. Also, in the typical classy Novak style, when my dad and brother replaced our old fridge with another (not a new one, but more functional) they decided for some reason to leave the old fridge on the back deck. I'm not sure if it was dangerous to get it down the stairs, if they were defrosting it, or they just got lazy. Anyway, the fridge has been a lovely deck ornament since sometime this fall, and got frozen to the deck with all of the snow and ice, however in the warmup that all melted, and the fridge was freestanding. This morning, we woke up to all of our trashcans blown away, and the slightly scary fact that the winds had been strong enough to move the refrigerator about five to ten feet across the deck. I guess it is good to keep things interesting :)

I guess this all just fits the Alaska maxim of: Don't like the weather? Wait ten minutes, it'll change.

My Melancholy Mood at wanting to be back at college yet at the same time not...

2009-01-09T00:32:00.000-08:00

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. ~Charles M. Schulz

Dinking around on html with little success

2009-01-06T23:06:00.000-08:00

I am trying to get a slideshow to work properly...I would get it to display the first picture but nothing after that. Also I tried to make the blog have three columns so that we can have slideshows for different people etc...and so I was looking up tutorials online...trying to edit the html and having little success.

If anyone wants to try to make it work, I can make you guys have admin powers if you need them to edit the format, just save a backup copy of the format before you do too much. I throw out a challenge to you all, I don't know what the reward is quite yet, but you can suggest appropriate prizes...

Is anyone else amused by this?

2009-01-03T02:02:00.001-08:00

Say what??

2008-12-19T10:48:00.000-08:00

In honor of the holidays, I'm going to post something completely unrelated to any winter celebration whatsoever...just something that I deal with every day that it occured to me might be sort of funny to read--the literal transliteration between English and Norwegian. Since the two languages share a great deal still and more or less came from the same languages, most things can be translated literally and directly between the two and still make sense, as long as you go back and rearrange the grammar. Usage, however, is a different story. Here's some very commonly used phrases in Norwegian, their literal translation, and the most common English phrase to say the same thing:

Hva skjer a? - What cuts? - How's it going/what's happening?

Hvis du vil - If you will- If you'd like to (in certain situations this sounds quite strange)

Hvis du har lyst til - if you have lust to - If you want (it was literally months before I could bring myself to say this)

Fy faen oss - oh damn us - general obscenity exclamation, (not especially mild but very common nonetheless) but when Norwegians are speaking english, they often translate it as 'fuck us', which i invariably find hilarious

messing naken - brass naked - norwegians translate this one as 'really naked' or 'very naked'...just an expression but rather entertaining to hear them try to explain to the american the difference between 'naked' and 'really naked'

i det pratsomme hjørnet - in the talkative corner (prate = chat) - in a talkative mood

anyway, you get the point.

No More Finals!

2008-12-18T13:29:00.000-08:00

This madness that is
Core is done, my brain now free
To think of snow again

Falling Rain

2008-12-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

The rain in endless
Sheets pours down, flooding courtyards
Dampening brown leaves

It came last night, sudden
Downpour in the gutter out-
Side of my window

Never stopping, the
Rain fell though the night, taking
Dust and smog from air

Parts of dining hall
Closed off, filled with water now
Drains clogged with dead leaves

Heat is gone, now cold
Seeps in to buildings with single
Pane glass in windows

From above, the ground
Sprouts brightly colored mushrooms,
Umbrellas with feet.

Do trees shed tears? Let's cut them down and find out

2008-12-13T16:48:00.000-08:00

Back in Alaska
Back to the snowy blackness
Eugene is like gold

Adventures with google translate

2008-12-09T23:38:00.000-08:00

Loni's heroic couplet

tocino buen cocido, mucho de

la gente que nos pasan dicen ¡mmm!

our translation

bacon cooked well, many of

the people who pass us say Yum!

google translate's translation

bacon cooked a lot of good people who pass us say mmm

....well that changes the meaning a bit doesn't it?

Scandinavian Specialty:

2008-12-09T23:12:00.000-08:00

on an attempt to make caramel

Starbucks whipping cream

18 tablespoons butter

3 cups of sugar

oops, uh-oh burning

so, apples only, sorry

for this christmas bash

back to the kitchen

experimenting further

who will eat this stuff?

says genius Sarah

our marketing lacks finesse

make up a good name

try our new special

its from Scandinavia

"yum coffee toffee"

Loni's lovely haikus....

2008-12-09T23:08:00.000-08:00

she makes me laugh.

slick slimy tortoise

slides across the boiling lake

he is almost dead.

Reasons Why My Roomates Should Not Be Given Holiday Decorations

2008-12-08T15:20:00.000-08:00

So, my roommate (Annsley) was visited by her parents on Friday, and they want to Target. There is a door decorating competition for our dorm, and I had asked her to see if she could pick something up that we could use.

I got a little more than I bargained for.

As you can see from the above, Annsley and Emily, my other roommate, went a little nuts (ok, so I helped a little). Annsley demonstrated very well that she should not be given ribbon, although it was really funny watching Emily's face when she came out of the shower and saw what had happened to the bunk bed. Emily is responsible for the menorah on the door (although I fixed it, since she somehow forgot two branches) as well as the pom-pom garland around the board and name tags. Tinsel features rather largely in the decorating scheme, as does duct-tape.

But no matter how ridiculous it looks, we had a ton of fun.

a watercolor of a photo from prince william sound

2008-12-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

Justin and I were exploring a really cool creek area (I took Aimie and Andrea as well)

Fun with Photoshop!

2008-12-02T13:34:00.000-08:00

I am extremely excited about my recent acquisition of photoshop on my laptop. I found a tutorial on making photos look like watercolours, so here is one of my first tries. This could be a very addicting program...

Sometimes you just have to write sonnets.

2008-11-30T01:49:00.000-08:00

I saw a pretty color here today

Quite early in the morning, as it were

But is it found in nature? Hard to say

It wasn't grass or leaves or branch of fir

But stunning green--it brightened up my day

And had a strange, compelling sort of lure

But like the summer winds, too short a stay--

and I just wish that I could have been sure

What you would call this color, if one day

You saw it in a paint shop--'Foam of Mer'?

'Electric Green', perhaps, or 'Algæ Bay'?

Or weirder--'Marshy Thoughts'? 'Elysian Shore'?

But I suppose you all will think it's rot

When you find out this was an ode to snot.

Haiku for a Rainy day

2008-11-26T09:53:00.000-08:00

what is going on?

wetness falling from the sky

weather befuddles :)

new necklace!

2008-11-24T03:57:00.000-08:00

So this summer, one of the many interesting characters I met wore rather a lot of jewelry, and among his clinking collection was a necklace he'd made out of a guitar string. Being the sort of person I am, I immediately asked him which string it was...but his answer was disappointing, it was an E. It was still pretty neat though.

However, it never really left my mind...so later this year, when I was talking with my many-instrument-playing friend here, I mentioned in passing that I'd always wanted a necklace like that, but not necessarily one from an E.

Well, anyway, last night I got a text from her-- 'I broke a string! damn! but you can have it if you want.'

That's right. Ladies and gentlemen, I am now the proud owner--and wearer--of a G string necklace.

Common Grounds, Common Vomit

2008-11-23T23:58:00.000-08:00

Things I take pleasure in:

Listening to the marijuana posession citations of my next door neighbor
Amusing snippets of conversation from passersby on cell phones
Forking queens in hall chess tournaments
Taking off my shoes after a long day of classes
Finding something new to put up on my wall, because it means I get to use the yellow sticky putty
Watching Battlestar Galactica into the wee hours of the morning with hall mates
Watching really good Eugenian street musicians
Watching really bad Eugenian street musicians
6AM Starbucks runs after a long night of paper-writing

Things that make me unhappy:

Thinking I slept through my math midterm, only to learn that it's actually next week
The lingering miasma of vomit in the hallway
The intersection of 13th and University Street, where I am sure to die by bicycle collision
Poorly constructed chicken pesto sandwiches from the cafe
Only being able to register for 18 credits
The agonizing wait for winter break
Missing Alaska... just a little

On hearing about everyone's lives via pictures, narratives and haikus rather than one-line statuses

2008-11-23T11:18:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to

take a moment to say that

this sure beats facebook.

Irish Dance Competition

2008-11-22T09:20:00.000-08:00

curls, mullet-esque hair

girls wearing soft shoes and crocs

funny Irish dance

Is it sad to think of your life in terms of your facebook status?

2008-11-20T11:58:00.000-08:00

When I go home, I

know what it'll be: 'So long and

thanks for all the fish.'

Coincidentally, I was just talking with another US exchange student about baking cookies...

2008-11-20T08:14:00.000-08:00

Samantha's pictures

of delicious fresh-baked goods

look great. I want some! :P

Old Food Adventures

2008-11-18T20:13:00.000-08:00

So a few weeks ago, I was cooking with my mentee for Talent Match, and we somehow managed to royally screw up the brownie recipe that I have made with success approximately fifty-MILLION times...the batter was boiling instead of baking...it was REALLY strange (I was talking to Loni and we think Clarissa must not have put enough flour in). So I promised Clarissa that I would bake a new batch over the weekend and give her some the following Tuesday. With that task in mind...and because a family friend (Debi Clemson) had recently sent me a care package with a ton of muffin mixes, my friend Loni and I went on a baking spree.

First we made fettucine with parmesan....which I realize is not baking, however we needed dinner as well.

Then we cooked up a SUCCESSFUL batch of brownies...I love truly homemade brownies, they are SO easy and much better than out of the box. We cooked them in a silicon muffin tin because we lacked a pan. These are brownies fairly torn apart due to their deliciousness.

And then we cooked three different kinds of muffin...granted, we were starting from muffin mix, but we didn't want to be boring so we ADDED STUFF! We added a mashed up banana to a banana nut muffin mix (delicious...but not pictured) we swirled lingonberry jam into a blueberry muffin mix, and added coconut to a different blueberry muffin mix. The batter of the lingonberry one was a really interesting pinkish purple color which contrasted strikingly with the neon green bowl we were mixing the batter in. The coconut ones turned out beautifully, we added some extra coconut on the top which toasted nicely...and sprinkled sugar on top which made the muffins sparkle. It was awesome...I was VERY excited and using quite a number of adjectives. I'll post some picture of me sometime...it was fun.
Pretty muffin checkerboard hmm? I was pretty psyched, Allison and Loni were teasing me about my camera-happy-ness. But I bet you all probably could have predicted I would take a few photos.

Your Hayden South ASU Correspondent Signing off...

Samantha <3

Someday

2008-11-17T21:46:00.000-08:00

Rest in Peace, Missy Blackbird.
(classmate and friend)

Someday
by Aimie Cox

I picked a flower off the stone,
Wiped it off and took it home.
I gently hid it among the Pages,
So it may linger through the ages.
Color faded and petals dried,
I kept it ‘til the day I died,
And for the passing of each friend
To this task I would attend.

One day when my time has passed,
And eternity begins at last,
I’ll find within the Word of my heart
the flowers, fresher than the start,
A fresh, blossoming bouquet!
One day...
Someday.

Apple Cranberry Crumble

2008-11-16T18:08:00.000-08:00

buttery crispness

cranberry jewels of tartness

sweet apples dyed pink

Fires in California

2008-11-16T15:33:00.000-08:00

The sky is black with
smoke, billowing up from the
ruins of many lives

We cough as the sour
stench of burning fills the air
and pray, hope, for rain

In the theater,
girl on the phone with her mom
"Take my medals with you"

Evacuation
Many homes lie empty, wait
for return or flames

Cultural Differences

2008-11-09T11:13:00.000-08:00

So when you go on exchange, the people who are supposed to prepare you for it go on for hours about culture shock and cultural differences and how essentially you're going to find the new culture weird as hell. But I'm in Norway, and honestly the culture is not that different...and the differences are mostly subtle, like calling adults by their first names and tucking your pant cuffs into your socks, not major cultural differences. One of the others is that they're not Puritan...meaning that there isn't really a strong social taboo against changing in public/in front of members of the opposite sex. There's a more practical attitude towards clothes, namely, warmth, function, style and so on...but things like all of the girls showering together after gym takes some getting used to. Well, anyway, I had thought I was totally used to this. But today...

I had an orchestra concert and we were there the normal two-and-a-half-hours early, hanging out backstage. Most of us had come in concert clothing but some people brought different shoes or something to change into, as it was pouring buckets outside. I was standing somewhat in the middle of the room, learning a norwegian fiddle tune while playing it (um...that sounds weird...but basically if i watch the other fiddler's fingers really closely i can play along and learn it as i go) when another violinist, a guy about my age, walks in. I look up briefly, get the nod, and then go back to concentrating. Said violinist my age, who is best described as 'dashingly handsome', puts down his case and motorcycle helmet, pulls out a pile of black dress clothing, looks around, and nonchalantly takes off his shirt, conveniently directly within my line of sight while watching the fiddler's fingers. I, uh, might have missed a few notes, but managed to not stare openly. But apparently I'm not as used to Norwegian cultural norms as I should be, because I was somewhat surprised when he also changed his pants.

Souvenir

2008-11-07T21:32:00.000-08:00

It was another fine day in writing class, with another 20-minute research paper presentation from another student speaking in another segmented monotone voice. The presenter was sitting in the professor's chair, gesturing vaguely towards the powerpoint presentation projected on the wall above the circle of inattentive students. The professor, sitting among us, toyed with his pen and wiggled his leg. He had apparently written all the notes he needed to. I could see his clipboard from where I was sitting, and there was mostly blank white space and a few scrawled lines.

What was this one about again? I thought, dosing off a little. I was still exhausted from a bout of strep throat earlier in the week. Corporate-controlled media? No, that was the last guy. Potatoes? Ah, yes. Potatoes. They are quite tasty. I think the dining hall has potatoes. Irish potato famine?

I looked out the classroom door where there is a little window looking out on the library courtyard. It was pretty sunny outside, unusual for the often stormy Eugene. Frequently, on days like those, the local acorn harvesters are sprawled out in numbers across the lawn, plucking furiously through the grass for their little brown turd-prizes. I discovered, walking out the library one day, that Eugene has a small group of subsistence users whose primary food source is the acorns that fall from campus trees. I was told this by an old lady in an extra long, extra ratty denim skirt. "They're toxic, you know," she said, holding up one of the brown, elliptical spheres. "Unless you stew 'em up, no good. But very nutritious, you know. Not very well known, you know." I got the distinct sense that she wanted me to join in on her pickings. Instead I got coffee in the museum gift shop.

My attention turned back to the potato presentation. How long can someone talk about potatoes? I thought. Too bad there was no Irish Starfruit Famine. That might be more intresting.

I looked out the door again. Only this time, obstructing my little window to sanity was a guy in a dark blue coat and backwards-facing baseball cap. He was coming in the classroom, looking straight at me. Or at least I felt like he was, I can't really be sure. As he came across the doorway, he withdrew a strange-looking device, and pointed it at the class.

POP! POP! POP!

I covered my head. The gun was quite loud. That's what I thought it was at first. When the noise ceased, I looked down at myself. I had been hit with arsenal suction cup nerf darts. I looked up briefly, and saw a flash of white. My professor was up out of his chair, grabbing the intruder by the neck, and putting him in a headlock out in the hallway. Students in the class were wide-eyed. Nobody really understood what was transpiring. But I could see I wasn't the only one hit; the darts were scattered everywhere in the room. Apparently, this nerf gun was of the automatic variety.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" yelled the professor, maintaning a firm choke hold. "DON'T EVER FIRE A WEAPON INTO A CLASS! SOMEONE CALL DPS!" It was really frightening, but also reassuring to know our professor would defend us (those who were left, anyway) from a potential assailant. Before, he looked like your basic nerdy graduate student teaching a class; now, his height and athletecism were clear. Our professor was tough.

"But it was just a joke! It's just a toy! Why the hell are you choking me? Agggh!" squealed the attacker.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IT WAS! NEVER BRING A WEAPON INTO A CLASSROOM!" Their struggle moved down the hall, out of sight and with less audible yelling.

This was all in the matter of fifteen seconds, so students were only beginning to register what exactly just happened. Some were smiling with raised eyebrows, and others were frowning. One student volunteered his cell phone to call campus police, as requested. And the student in the professor's chair seemed confused: should he continue his presentation? Or just call it a day?
He opted to resume. But no one was really listening at this point, because the student calling the campus police had made contact.

"So, uhh... a guy just came in classroom with a toy gun. No. Yeah. Yeah. Ummm... he's out in the hall right now, dealing with the guy. No. Everyone's fine... 184 PLC. Yeah, it was nerf... little yellow darts. All right, thanks."

Several minutes later, the professor returned. He walked in nanchalantly, though visibly red in the face and with short breathing. "Our intruder has left. DPS will take care of it from here. Sorry for the interruption." He took his seat again. "All right, let's discuss Sean's project."

As students refocused and raised their hands for comments, I picked up one of the darts near me and put it in my bag. This could have been a bullet, I thought.

Obama in the Motley

2008-11-05T14:49:00.000-08:00

So, we have a student run coffee house on campus called the Motley. All the food and pastries and other things (including truffles) are student made, so there's a huge community spirit around this place. Last night, they hosted the Scripps election party. It was all day, but it really started hopping after 4 o'clock, because that's when the east coast polls closed. From then on, the place was PACKED. Student services had to set up another television outside because so many people were trying to get in to watch.

At 8:02, the live feed on MSN announced "ladies and gentlemen, we have our president elect. Barack Obama now has a projected 283 electoral votes."

The place went mad.

There were people jumping up and down, screaming, crying, calling their families and friends... The noise level shot through the roof. It was amazing. There was so much emotion in the room, it was impossible not to get swept up in it. And I did. It didn't take long untill I was one of the screaming, crying people as well. There were no words to describe the feelings in that room.
The Motley baristas brought out a cake, with "President Obama" written in red and blue icing. Bottle of sparkling cider appeared as well, and the party was on.

Ladies and gentlemen, "Yes we did."

Things that make me happy...or at the very least amused

2008-10-30T12:53:00.000-07:00

1. The fact that in any given day there are 5 or 6 kiosks set up selling or promoting various things...one day there was a guy dressed up in a giant lima bean costume...

2. There is a store called "Jerry's Drive Thru Liquor" across the street from campus (ironically when the Honors dorms are completed, it will be almost directly across the street from them).

3. The ceiling in the hallways of Hayden South are so short that I can touch them...and my roommate would have to duck if they were too much shorter.

4. There is a piano in our lounge...but for a long time there wasn't a TV.

5. There are urinals in the girls restroom in Hayden South

5.5 There are condom dispensers in the boys and girls restrooms...which unfortunately don't function...

6. The fact that Razor scooters...while still not super cool, are suddenly relatively widespread.

7. The dome that lets light into the underground portion of our library, fondly known as the "nipple of higher knowledge"

8. There is a secret garden

9. One can actually pick fruit off trees on our campus...dates, lemons, limes, oranges, grapefruit etc.

10. I don't live in Manzanita...or Best C (both good things...but for very different reasons)

11. When I walked into the local Safeway for the first time...you know how Safeway tends to do displays grouping items that go together? Like all the ingredients for S'mores? I saw a table with cases of beer and packages of ping-pong balls...do you think they might be near a college?

My Awesome, Ridiculous Shoes

2008-10-28T13:56:00.000-07:00

So I promised you all a picture of my new shoes, TAADAAA! I really like them, partially because of how "I Love Lucy" era they feel, with the polka dots and bows on the toes. They make me happy. Not a pair of shoes to wear every day, but definitely a lot of fun.

I officially feel a little bit like Daisy Duke in this outfit...but the shoes give me nice lines, make my legs look long. Oh goodness, I'm even starting to talk like a ballroom dancer.

Tomorrow I'll post some random pictures, including a picture of my adventure behind our fridge stack to plug my new roommate Janet's TV in to get cable, and some pictures of the utterly delicious food I've been making (it is possible EVEN in dorm kitchens :)

Victory!

2008-10-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

My engineering class had to build a truss as our mechanical design project. We were to be graded on the quality of our bridge by taking the ratio of the ammount of force it would hold up (lbs) divided by the weight of the structure (g). We were only allowed to use the wood and glue they provided for us, and we did a lot of designing beforehand. We worked in groups, and my group decided to use my design. Thursday, we tested the bridges, and guess who got the highest ratio out of all the other groups in my professors sections?!?! (And the highest grade for that portion of the project)

Ours totally won with a ratio of about 15! The structure itself was solid. It eventually failed because the glue was so relatively weak.

I think it won because we named it Layla. (That was one of the songs we listened to while building it.)

CARE PACKAGE AMAZINGNESS

2008-10-22T14:25:00.000-07:00

SO... I have gotten three care packages in the last three days....completely awesome....but a slightly ridiculous quantity.

I'll tell you about them in ascending awesomeness

I got one from Central Lutheran, which had candy, Emergen-C, Microwave popcorn....etc

which was really nice and quite sweet of them to think of me.

I got one from my mom's friend Debi, which had

A bag of Halloween candy

A box of Raspberry Zinger Teabags

A bag of Riesen? or that might have been in the church one, I got them both today

A silicon muffin tin...she knows me well

2 cornbread mixes

2 blueberry muffin mixes

2 banana nut muffin mixes

AND

a package of fall themed muffin liners!

which is a pretty awesome care package in general

but even the muffin box couldn't beat the care package I got from my mom on Monday

which in part (I probably won't remember everything she sent) included

-my blue and my CAMEL coloured cashmere sweaters (yes Justin it IS a real colour)

-a black leaf garland....to decorate for Halloween!

-my nice alaska railroad jacket....cause thats as warm of a jacket as i'll need in Arizona

- a really cool hairtie with a hemp flower

-a polkadotted notebook

-a mini lint roller

-a DVD of When Harry Met Sally

- a pair of Alaska socks

-a copy of the newspaper my bro had a pic in for running

-a box of ginger chews

-a metal canister with a bunch of diff colors of thread and some needles

-a package of orange napkins

-a plastic/felted rat

-a little kit from bath and body works with body butter, lip butter, foot lotion and perfume

-looseleaf tea and teabags

-some spices

-VIETNAMESE CINNAMON

-some of my fave undies

AND

-REALLY CUTE YELLOW POLKADOT HIGH/WEDGE PEEP TOE SHOES WITH BOWS ON THE TOES!!!

...they are awesome...i'll post a pic sometime

Lots of Love,

Sam

Something that I keep realizing while sitting in classes here.

2008-10-21T23:30:00.000-07:00

My US public
high school education was
actually quite good.

An uneventful cave and an eventful fire door

2008-10-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

It's Parents' Weekend
I didn't see Hugh Hefner
But his kid goes here.

I had no parents for Parents' Weekend, so some other orphans and I hiked up to Mallory Cave. I had never been to a cave before, but this one didn't really live up to my expectations of what a proper cave should be. It was not very big, at all. No stalactites or stalagmites. No bats (then, but bats do live there) No terrible chasms waiting in the dark to swallow unsuspecting tourists whole. Really, it was a fairly small and subdued cave. The hike was fun, though, and the cave wasn't bad... I just had an overeager imagination.
Another event that culminated this week was the fire door saga.
See, each wing in Hallett is L-shaped, and halfway down one of the branches of the "L" is a fire door. Now, our hall is a friendly and sociable one, with people always hanging out in hallways or going to other people's rooms and talking, etc. Thus, this fire door was left propped open, to promote this feeling of community and friendship, and our RAs didn't care. However, the RAs from other floors take turns going on rounds through the whole building, and they did care. It was a fire hazard, they said (to leave the fire door blocked open- who would have thought?), and so they took our doorstop, and told us we had to leave it closed. (This was about a week and a half ago.) Naturally, our friendly hall resented this, and found another doorstop in the hall, and propped the door open again. The next day, the other RAs took our doorstop again. There were no more doorstops to be found in the hall, so of course people came to the only logical conclusion: take them from the Engineering Center. So they did. This propping and stealing of props continued for several days until, apparently, our floor's RAs got in a bit of trouble, and so we stopped propping the door. However, people were still unhappy about the door being closed all the time. The next logical conclusion was reached: remove the screws from the hydraulic (I think) hinge thing at the top of the door. (Not the actual hinges, but the little arm-thing with two straight parts....do you know what I'm talking about?) At any rate, the screws attaching it to the door were removed by persons unknown. Since our floor's RAs had already been talked to by the hall director about our door, and they had told us not to prop it open anymore, this didn't sit too well with them. So, the third logical conclusion was reached by one of the RAs: duct-tape the door shut until the screws were returned. For my half of the hallway, this wasn't really a problem, because the bathrooms and showers were in our half. The people in the other half, however, had to go downstairs, through the first floor hallway, and then back up the stairs. (Some in towels or bathrobes, because they were coming or going from/to the showers) Needless to say, the screws were anonymously returned in rather short order. (The duct-taping and returning of screws happened in the middle of the night, so I wasn't there, but apparently Greg (RA who taped the door) was ridiculously pissed off, and the duct-taping was a giant scene.
So, today, we had a mandatory floor meeting, where they didn't actually do as much lecturing as we expected them to. They suggested we sit in front of the door if hanging out in the hall, and that as a floor, we could invest in a magnetic-release door (like the ones at South) that would shut automatically in case of a fire (bur would be sort of pricey.) We opted for the former, the person who had taken the screws owned up to it, and everyone was happy and harmonious.

On a side note, Takako and I took the list of 100 foods and surveyed 30ish people in our hall (we did just "Which have you eaten?" rather than the "Which have you eaten, and which would you never ever eat?" of the original list.) Still, I think it's quite interesting. If other people find it interesting, I can try to figure out a way to distribute it. Does anybody know if spreadsheets can be attached to this blog? Or should I just email it to interested parties?

Settled and Sore

2008-10-17T23:13:00.000-07:00

So! I've procrastinated long enough. I'm finally making my first and long overdue post, per request and constant reminders of Samantha. Here goes!

For those of you who don't know, the University of Oregon starts about a month later than most other schools, so I was stuck in Anchorage until late September. Waiting those lonely extra weeks for college was sheer agony. I had been out of school for seven months and I became more than a little restless. But now, after a month of living in the dorms and attending classes, I feel like I have a little more purpose in life!

Instead of trying to summarize everything that's happened in the past month, I think I'll just tell you about my busy week instead.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are my busy days. I have all my classes, which include calculus, writing, Medieval Literature, and symphony orhcestra. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I pretty much don't have to do anything but a discussion section and a cello lesson. So my life alternates between frantically running back and forth across campus (dodging the multitude of bicyclists) and using the off-days to prepare for the frantic ones.

On Monday and Wednesday I had tryouts for club tennis, and about fifty people showed up. This was somewhat problematic, as there was limited court space and only two "scouts" to see how everyone played. So the first day, with a pair of arbitrary scissors, the scouts cut half of the prospective team members, of which I was not included! (This was a wonderful turn of fortune.) So I got to come back Wednesday... except that on Tuesday, I started a 5-page analysis of Beowulf and Judith... at around 1 am. Which means I got 2 hours of sleep which means... I didn't make the team. But it's ok, because most of the players there were just below division 1 level, (I'm more on the intermural level) and practices were on aforementioned frantic Mondays and Wednesdays. So I don't think it would have worked out.

On Thursdays, which are by far my favorite day of the week, I have cello lessons with a GTF (Graduate Teaching Fellow, a graduate student who also teaches classes) who is also our section leader in the symphony. Her name is Wan-Ting, and I've learned that I basically play cello completely wrong (not surprising) and have much work to do. Hm.

Today, Friday, I played an intense game of chess with Drew, my RA, who is two levels below Grandmaster (which he explains as "just an Expert"). I went into it feeling confident in my chess-playing abilities, but my cowardly royalty and their various defenders were promptly wiped off the board and we ended with a handshake. I have a little studying to do, I think. I guess I'll just have to become a Grandmaster.

And later that night I went to a ballroom dancing session, which was taught by an extremely enthusiastic instructor who loved to tango. A lot of people dressed up, but I did not. I have no fancy clothes to speak of. So, wearing my OREGON sweatshirt, dark jeans, and socks with sandals, I danced my way through three tango steps and some cha-cha moves. Good times.

I'll write about some more specific anecdotes later. Also, I seem to have found a counterpart for just about everyone I know. I will write about them as well. Goodnight!

Sick Season

2008-10-16T09:19:00.000-07:00

So, it being fall, EVERYONE is getting sick. My suitemate Hannah was the first one. In mid September she went to the health center with a fever of 102. Needless to say, she didn't go to class for about a week. Next was my roommate Emily, who brought what we think is a cold back from Nevada. She went on a trip with Claremont Students for Obama to register voters in Nevada, and all thirty-something people ended up sleeping on the floor in one room of an abandoned house with broken plumbing. Hygiene was not happening, and she came back a day early because of how sick she was. Next was my other roommate, Annsley, who was (is) rather down for the count with something 'flu-like. Then we got a campus-wide e-mail warning us about a norovirus outbreak at other schools in Southern California.

So far, I've been lucky.

I have a theory as to why.

My roommates, both of whom have been sick, sleep here:

I, on the other hand, sleep here:

My theory is that their proximity means that they are more likely to get each other sick (they also don't clean nearly as much as I do). I sleep on the other side of the room, all by myself. They are also convinced that I have a healthier immune system because I don't go drinking every weekend, but they kinda do that to themselves. I vacuum, I do (my) laundry, I wash (my) dishes, I clean the sink. They don't. Coincidence? I think not.

There is strong evidence to suggest that both my location in the room and my habits have lead to my over-all health. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it.

Too bad my theory is completely abolished by the fact that as of Tuesday, I'm sick.

Political haikus.

2008-10-16T06:31:00.000-07:00

I'm always amused

at the way people ask me

why I'm in Norway.

The teenagers say

with horrified expressions,

'Why leave the US?'

They have all been there--

to New York City to shop,

to the Grand Canyon.

Their America

is what they see on TV:

rich, pretty, happy.

Adults are different.

Some understand the bubble

that is our border

and know what I mean

with 'it's good to see outside'--

a new perspective.

But I find it strange

that Norwegians do not see

their little country--

their Labor party

and classless society

(Lennon's 'Imagine')

works out much better

for most of the citizens

than where I am from.

But now I've lived here

enough to see the difference:

people aren't worried

about food or rent

about money for college--

the government helps!

The small changes made--

free health care more than all else

bring them peace of mind.

I can't help but think

it could be like this at home.

And maybe it can.

And maybe we can!

Vote Obama! ...and also

take with you a friend!