I really can’t compete with the travelblogging of Argot and Frink. However, my life continues in its own little way.

The other night I attended the recognition ceremony (or whatever they were calling it) of the Arts and Letters department, accompanied by my frolleague Andrew. It was being held in the "Intermedia Gallery" (what?) of the student union, which was a clue right off.

There was food in the form of crudités, artichoke dip, and cheese, so we did get to have a free dinner. On tiny napkins. While some may have raised their eyebrows at my having a chock-full napkin in each hand, no one knew who I was anyway, so it wouldn’t matter, would it?

There were a number of pieces of Art on display, which confused Andrew. Not the pieces themselves, mind you, but the fact of their being on display at this event. “It’s The Intermedia Gallery, Andrew,” I explained sotto voce, “that means there could be several kinds of creativity occurring all at once.” (At least, that’s how I remember explaining it.) I hoped no performance art would suddenly occur, at least not very near us.

As it turned out, there were a few people who read some things aloud (poems, fiction) for nearly an hour, and then the announcer Officially Recognized the finalists of the graduate student short story contest. This consisted entirely of reading the list of our four names. I was disappointed, as this didn’t incur any actual recognition at all! (Probably better in the long run considering my behavior at the buffet.)

Oh, if they had even said, “Raise your hand if you are present,” I would have been satisfied. I also would have been a lot happier if being a finalist had involved getting anything at all besides…well, nothing.

At least the great mystery of how the winner was chosen came to light. A selection committee of sorts read all the entries (approximately 35, as it turns out) and chose four finalists, which were sent to an apparently well-known author, who then chose his own favorite as the winner*.

Really, the only part that was gratifying at all was hearing that the selection committee were “impressed with the quality of the writing from outside the department,” coupled with the fact that of the four finalists, I was the only one who was a Psych major instead of a Creative Writing major.

What, they believe that no one can write who hasn't specifically gone to graduate school for writing?! The arrogance.

Thus, I strike a blow for Outsider Art of the literary kind.


*(Looking at the books he has written, I guess it's not too surprising that he did not select my story about eating disorders, ghosts, sexual harassment in the workplace, magic, revenge, cannibalism, and the supportive relationships of women in a family, all set in a structure of domesticity including gardening, family pets, and cookery.)

Mark your calendars, folks, a rare event has occurred: I have caught a cold!

That's right. I'm one of those freaks who "never" get colds. (Though I do instantly catch any flu or throat infection that goes around.) I honestly can't remember the last time I had a cold. Maybe sometime in the early '90s? Late '80s?

I read recently that the average person gets three colds a year. I couldn't believe it. What is wrong with people that this happens so often?? One of my frolleagues --who is seriously into every possible alternative medicine thing -- believes this is because I am one of the few Americans who get enough sleep on a regular basis. I interpret this to mean that my laziness serves a useful health purpose.

However, this particular rhinovirus got through. I didn't even try to stop the transmission, which involved the kissing of a certain invidual with obvious cold symptoms. I figured that if I was going to catch it, I was going to catch it anyway.

So far, I don't see what the big deal is. I don't even feel sick, just congested. And it's still several weeks until the friend's wedding for which I will be singing Ellen's Gesang in front of Lord knows how many people, so it should be gone by then.

Today is the day that Argotnaut and Frinkenstein leave for Heidelberg, Germany. I can't rightly be envious of the traveling part, since I've done a lot of it myself. I think I'm envious of the novelty part. It's always exciting, but most exciting the first time.

I think she'll really enjoy attending school there, once she gets settled in. Even though we already lived across the country and weren't likely to see each other before the wedding anyway, it does seem like now she'll be more gone. (I'm sure once she's got a good internet hookup I'll feel less cut off.)

Have a good [goof] Flugt!!

Many of my frolleagues have said something like "Congratulations! We should get together and have a drink!" or something to that effect when I've told them the "W"-word news. Therefore I decided to give them all a convenient opportunity to buy us drinks, so we had a sort of engagement party at a nearby spot. I was amazed that some people brought us cards, and one couple even brought us a bottle of champagne!

The bartendress clearly has a crush on TheLimey ("I remember you guys -- that accent!") and at the end of the night gave us a drink in one of the giant martini glasses. It was really too much, as most of us had already gotten to or surpassed our limits, and also it had some kind of licorice-flavored liqueur that does not agree with Some People. But it was nice of her, and TheLimey took the brunt of most of it simply to be polite (of course).



It was one of the few spring evenings we've had so far ("skirt weather"). Now it's pretty much back to winter.

I recently entered a graduate student short-story contest. First prize, $1500. (I could really use that!) Today I got an email thanking me for entering, which immediately let me know I didn't win.

However, it did list me as being one of the four finalists, of which the winner had already been notified. And that the finalists would also be "recognized" at some kind of ceremony Thursday night. (My cynical guess is that the four "finalists" were in fact the only four people who entered at all.)

I wonder what "recognize" means?

"Hey, look [points], there's Liz."

I really became annoyed when I went to the student clinic for my asthma a few times recently. I remember now how much I hate being a patient. It's very galling to have someone act like they know more about me than I do.

I will of course concede that physicians know more about disease in general, and even my disease in general than I do. But dammit, I have been living with this for over 30 years, and I have made it my business to keep up with the research, as well as noting my own peculiar symptomatology.

For example, I know about the three (interrelated) aspects of asthma, which include: 1. inflammation; 2. bronchoconstriction; and 3. congestion. I know which stimuli or circumstances make which aspects worse for me. I know which meds address which aspect. I even know exactly how stress plays into this biochemically at several levels, having given the "Stress and Health" lecture myself!

So it pisses me off when They act like I'm some Luddite hippie dumbass herbalist who just doesn't want to get better the "right" way, i.e. using a primarily steroid approach to reducing inflammation. Forever.

When I know perfectly well that when I exercise regularly and get enough sleep, all my inflammatory responses are reduced (as is the case for most people). Sure, I'll accept or even specifically ask for steroids for short-term, for emergencies or whatever. But my goal is to get back to where I was before, not to stay on the freakin' steroids forever. (Don't they know that being on steroids for asthma is a significant predictor of bearing low birth-weight babies?)

I was explaining how exercise has always helped my asthma, to the doctor and his doctor-supervisee, and I swear all they heard was blah blah blah symptoms blah blah symptoms blah blah. Both of them immediately began telling me to use an inhaler before exercise to reduce exercise-induced asthma. Which any kindergartener with asthma already knows, thank you very much, and which also completely missed the entire point of what I was saying.

So, yeah, anyway. I've been exercising primarily to get some symptom reduction of my asthma. And I'm always amazed with how little actual exercise I can get away with doing, if I just do it regularly. It does take about two weeks for it to "take", but there's improvement the entire time. (Not to mention side effects such as energy increase, mood elevation, etc.) I even found myself waking up at 6:30 this week, before my alarm, and with that feeling that you get when you luxuriously sleep in until 9 or so!

So, yes, what I mean to say with this ranting is that regular sleep and exercise work wonders. And why do I always forget this every time I get busy?

I spoke with my aunt on the phone earlier this evening. She told me an anecdote about buying a nice pork roast at the store and then accidentally signing the charge slip "Pork Roast" because she was thinking about cooking it (which has become her new online identity now that she has a hookup --"Hello, Pork Roast").

Now, I have been known to write or say a completely different word like that from time to time, so I offered her the example that whenever I am thinking or saying the word "wallet", I always think of the word "walnut". And sometimes say it.

At this point, she burst out laughing, and said, "Well, that's because that's what we used to say when you were little!" Yes, that's right. A silly word game played by my mom and her sister as they cared for the toddler-Lizzie lived on subconsciously as an obsessive (or maybe compulsive) thought. And I never knew. Apparently, she also carried on this tradition with her own daughter, my cousin.

Even as a psychologist, I was staggered by the strength of this association. Who knows what other thoughts I have that I believe are my own but might be merely echoes of someone else's?

So be careful when you tell kids things like "when you turn around, North and South change places." Or whatever kind of BS people think is funny to trick kids about. Imagine the potential for evil. Wallet/walnut is pretty harmless, but I still have noticed it for decades!

************

Wow, the rarely-on neighbors' network is on (as opposed to the usually-on one) and it is 24.0 mbps! Though very low signal, of course. I wonder if they're across the parking lot?

Today I attended another campus lecture voluntarily. (Although I do have stuff I should probably be doing, it's just not the same as when I never had the chance to do even one voluntary thing a week, let alone two!)

This lecture was Dr. Ralph Blomster* discussing folk medications, specifically herbals. It was basically an overview of commonly used herbs, their uses, and effectiveness according to research. (I got there a bit late, so I missed hearing about boneset, mullein, and tansy.) I knew most of them already, as that is one of my personal interests. However, one research result that I hadn't heard was that wild yams don't do anything. Nevertheless, the surprising part was hearing a biochemist say that all the other things did have clinical effects.

Now, if only I could find an herb that promotes motivation for tedious paperwork...

*Appropriately, this means "flowers" in Norwegian.

Just got out of a talk given by astronaut Tony England. (In fact, I'm still in the science building, using the table whence I usually lecture, for its accessible sneakret wi-fi.) TheLimey was frothing at the mouth to join me but had to fly to Florida at the last minute for work purposes (I took extensive notes).

I would say the gist of the talk was that we should forgo the moon base and just get to the Mars exploration bit. He discussed the approach used by the Apollo missions, which included each step building on knowledge gained in the previous step. (This is unlike the shuttle missions, which don't change.) And that we should catch up and by gosh start using robotic transport like the Russians, because now we're way the heck behind. (If it weren't for Soyuz, there wouldn't be any way to get to the ISS.)

Being big on earth system science, he also strongly recommended that people read Diamond's Collapse and figure out where we as a planetary society fit into that mold. And he also said that he finally gave in and watched Apollo 13 when one of his kids rented it, and that it was "eerily" accurate.

(I forgot about that book, which I wanted to read when it came out, and now I also want to see the flick, which I never saw.)

He furthermore explained that the cool part of space flight is not the floaty part, but the staggering view of Earth, and that if he did it again he'd spend less time with the science bits (i.e. his job!) and more time looking out the window instead. Also, the medics thought there was something wrong with him when they got on board to examine them after the flight, but in actuality he was sad because it was over.

I have now made most of the important file transfers to my new laptop, though I have not yet been able to clean up Clu and send him back to Argotnaut. Guess I have to do it soon, since she’s heading off to Germany!

I am still trying to name the new computer. He is extremely sleek and fast, and never hangs up on operations. After reading Scientific American* together in bed the other night (as one does), I favored “Qubit” (for “quantum bit”) or “Kelvin”, (I am also considering “Bayes” after the stats guy). Meanwhile, TheLimey preferred “Yttrium” or even “Niobium”. I asserted that those are clearly girl-element names. (If I’m going to be gendering my computer, I may as well do it right.) I further suggested that those whose own computers remain unnamed ought to correct this oversight before trying to horn in on mine.

I had no idea how many unsecured wireless networks are out there until I got this machine. Wow! They’re everywhere now. In fact, I have no idea whose network this is upon which I’m posting this; I just kept getting messages at home that I was connected to some “very low signal” network or other, and I even got a few automatic virus-protection updates out of the blue, until I just gave in and began playing with my darn email on it.

I have struggled with this network-hitchhiking (netchhiking?) issue in terms of ethics. Is it like walking into someone’s left-open apartment and using their computer to get online? TheLimey disagrees with this interpretation, likening it instead to turning on my TV and finding that I am receiving free cable channels out of nowhere. (He’s probably just trying to make me feel less guilty.) Well, it’s only intermittently that I receive it anyway, and it’s not like I’ll be dow_nl_oading mp_egs or gray-market nekkid pitchers, or cracking into anything.



*Funny editorial this month.

Having gotten past the pre-wedding-planning jitters, we have now set a date in August of this year. This is based on the requirements of various family members’ schedules (including our own), and also the availability of a particular 1930s historic chapel in the park. Which—unlike some other venues I could mention—does not require us to become confirmed Lutherans within the next few months. (Also, we like that it’s in a park.)

Top Songs of the Parking Lot Next Door in the Middle of the Night


1. I Didn’t Do Nothin’ to You, Baby

2. CRUNNCCHHH (tinkle tinkle)

3. Oh My God, My Dad’s Gonna Kill Me

4. No, You Shut Up

5. What Did I Do? You Tell Me, What Did I Do?

6. Who Do You Think You’re Talkin’ To?

7. Dude, She’s Not Worth It

8. Blluuuuaaaaaeehhhhhh…..

9. Yeah, You Go Ahead and Call the Cops

10. I Told You Man, It’s Not Mine

Because I compulsively Google any object that someone says "I wish I could have ______", I have noted that the calendar I saw on my trip is available on about a bajillion websites. (There's also this somewhat more glamorous '40s pin-up one.)

Okay, a bit of retroblogging, since so much has happened lately and I haven’t updated for a while. One thing that’s happened is that Clu definitely has a limited lifespan at this point. Over the weekend it became clear that his display problem has to do with the frayed, exposed cable, which means he can’t be moved without risking complete detonation. So I will soon be actually purchasing a new laptop, something I’ve never done before. (Luckily I have professional assistance in this venture.)

As for the internships, only one additional person in my cohort eventually got one through the clearinghouse. Last week was therefore somewhat traumatic for me and my peers. In the post-hoc analysis, it became clear that this wasn’t an unreasonable outcome for applicants in our position. Even if our program had already been accredited, most people seek internships in their 5th, 6th, or even 7th year, whereas we were applying in our 4th year. This means that in addition to lack of accreditation, we probably had comparably fewer cumulative practicum hours, publications, types of experience, and so on.

Basically, this all wouldn’t have been so shocking if we hadn’t been hearing since the day we interviewed for this program “Oh, when it comes time for internship, don’t worry—we’ll get you all internships [insert various reasons, such as the greater number of classes, the higher number of practicum hours required (for time spent), certifications, staff networked with at internship sites, etc. etc.]” I don’t think they were lying, but I think the expectations were quite unrealistic. (It also meant that we completely worked our butts off for three years trying to vastly surpass other applicants when it may not have mattered so much.) Unfortunately this makes me now doubt every bit of soothing assurance that I hear from the department about pretty much anything.

However, I have now digested the idea that I will be staying here for at least another year, doing clinical work and teaching.

My Florida trip was, as I may have mentioned, perfect in that it was rainy and overcast but warm. (I’m not sure that my fellow conference-goers felt the same way about that.) The streets were curiously empty of people, which may have just been because it was a downtown on the weekend. Still, that was a bit eerie. Also, the area around the hotel was like a giant gated community. It felt very artificial and claustrophobic. I can’t believe that people pay the toppest dollar possible to get into those kind of areas.

I used the power of MapPoint to find the nearest Kinko’s so that my friend/colleague (frolleague?) Melanie could copy her presentation onto overheads. We got slightly lost on the way, so I had to stop and view the map again on the way (see photo of me inside my portable computer-viewing booth [i.e. jacket]).



Later I escaped the conference to patronize a local bistro kind of place, where I had the traditional classy Florida lunch of chicken satay with a can of Boddington’s.



I also took a picture of the restaurant’s cool Vespa calendar specifically for Mark, but the low light made it blurry. I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with the pint I drank.

I really wanted to visit the Aquarium, but by the time the conference sessions were over at 5 on Saturday, it was closed. (What kind of a tourist attraction closes at 5 on Saturday in the height of tourist season?)

Tampa has a convenient and quaint little trolley, which I took to the Latin Quarter (Ybor City). I think that was my favorite area there; the streets were blocked off and full of pedestrians. The populace was less uniformly white there, which seemed less unnatural. I also liked the cobbled streets and older architecture, even though the whole area had obviously been made into a giant tourist trap. There was a cool vintage store, where I bought a tie for the evening’s dance back at the hotel.






(As you can see, the tie really completed the effect of my suit. Annie Lennox, eat your heart out.)

A guy on a street corner in Ybor City enthusiastically offered me a personality test, which I declined, saying that I was a psychologist. When several of my frolleagues arrived, we walked past the same guy, and a few people thought they would go along with it for a while, until we realized that he was a shill for the Scientology storefront around the corner (they apparently thrive in areas where there are plenty of tattoo parlors.) When we then declined, saying we were all psychologists, he jokingly (?) made an anti-vampire kind of cross with his fingers at us.

We also saw a most excellent mullet, of which I managed to get a hasty photo.

This morning I was peacefully washing dishes while listening to a CD on my headphones (to allow TheLimey to listen to his beloved NPR while he works). Suddenly I was yanked from my Morrissey reverie (“…you see the life that I’ve had / would make a good man / bad…”) by TheLimey exclaiming something about scratching noises at my 3rd-floor window, which turned out to be the case. Apparently one of the phone-wire acrobat squirrels had made the leap to the window. Unfortunately, he leaped to the wrong window—the living room one without critter snacks instead of the kitchen one with critter snacks laid on. You can see his astonishment at this mistake in the photo below.

Okay, okay—now to the big stuff you’ve been waiting for. In reviewing my blog, I see that it’s hard not to notice the increasing presence of TheLimey over the past year. So it may not be an incredible revelation to learn that we recently decided to—ah, merge our files, as it were. (Probably late this summer.) I’d post the obligatory photo of the ring, but that part of the process is still being worked on. Let’s just say the decision involved a clipboard, an engineer pen, and a graphic representation of a timeline, rather than the default knee-ring sequence. (This really shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows either of us.)

I’m reasonably certain he was convinced by my inventing the onion-marmite-cream cheese bagel, whereas I was convinced by the three dry-erase boards in his home office (featuring short-term, intermediate, and long-term goals).

While traveling the 20 minutes or so from my place to TheLimey's last Friday (as is our wont), we saw a new antiques store (Near the Lord Fox, as matter of fact) that was open although it's a pretty rural location and it was after dark. We went in and perused their books, and he bought me two "antique" science magazines, one from 1948 and one from 1953.

Now that I don't have them with me, I can't remember which they were--Popular Science might have been one. Was the other Science and Mechanics? Anyway, they have really cool covers mainly depicting the kind of future that Americans were imagining at the time. Rockets and flying cars aplenty! I wanted to scan them immediately, but after some agonizing had decided not to bring my beloved scanner with me for the weekend. I regretted it immediately, as those covers are pretty damn cool.

Now I have them scanned, but have not had time to touch them up and smallify the files and so on. They would make fantastic posters.

One of the mags has an article about how to make one's own Ice Box or "Freezer" in order to take advantage of summer's cornucopia in the winter, and the other has an article about a way to Motorize a Wheel Chair.

Now that I've had a chance to get my head around a completely different life plan than I've had in mind for the past 8 or 9 years, I feel okay about the whole academic trajectory thing. I (representing the others in my cohort) met with our department head, director of clinical training, and another interested faculty member to discuss the ramifications for us, the students. It'll be okay, just--different. There are additional life-changing things going on that I'll talk about later.

Clu has been behaving very strangely; I am afraid he may be on his last...what, processors? I spent an hour messing around this morning just trying to get his display back to normal, as it would become progressively snowier and snowier with each little operation or physical tap on the computer itself, and gave strange unreadable messages about Windows. After a while it just got better, although some things like checkmarks, the mouse pointer, and scroll bar arrows still intermittently turn into weird fuzzy little objects . (That still work, but look weird.) I spent a couple hours this afternoon backing up everything, although I did already back up my important docs recently.

There is definitely a tinge of Spring in the weather--rain washing away big mounds of dirty, grainy snow. The wind smells like wet dirt again. And of course there appear to be some new young squirrels in the Squirrel Tree. Yay!

Welp, still no internship. This has definitely been a Titanic week.

One more person finally got one the other night--it was the one remaining place that had asked me for my application materials.

This basically means that now my entire life is going to be in limbo for yet another year. If I were ten years younger, this wouldn't be such a terrible thing, but I am turning 38 this year, and I have really been wanting to have kids sometime this life--not the next one (and I don't believe in long-term daycare for infants.)

Clearly I am going to have to drastically rearrange my expectations for some very important things in my life. I was really ready to be done with school after--what, ten years? So knowing that I will be doing this for at least another year, if not two, is a bit disheartening.

While I don't really think I feel that bad, I have had three nightmares already this week (I almost never have nightmares.) They are pretty classic, standard nightmares--I'll probably have the one about teeth falling out pretty soon if this keeps up, although I'm a little old for that one.

1. People are stealing my stuff!
A classic anxiety nightmare. This dream involves having all my most important and precious possessions with me in some really squalid environment, and I can't protect it from theft because the doors won't lock or even close, I can't carry it all around at once, and I have to get somewhere. At some point, the garbage workers come and haul away most of my stuff to the dump when I am trying to get my door to lock--that is, what's left of it after people on the street have already picked through it.

2. Bugs, bugs, bugs!
A classic creepy nightmare. (My apartment has ants, so of course they found their way into my dream, too.) I dream that while I am trying to get ants off my food, I realize that they are coming from a hole in my right arm!! I realize that while I wasn't watching they must have found a way into my arm and made a nest there, and all I can do is hope that I can get most of them out. (This is the dream that has found its way into the urban legend about face powder.)

3. Trapped underwater in car.
A classic panic nightmare. I am riding in a car with a friend, and while looking at some beautiful moonlit lakes next to the road, I suddenly realize that they are violently overflowing across the road at the bottom of a hill. It's too late to stop, and although we think we might be able to get through it, we are swept off the road by the torrent into the dark waters of the lake. Yikes!

Circumstances demand that I cannibalize an email to Argotnaut for a scrap of content:

I'm in the midst of the harrowing process of Internship
Clearinghouse. It's where all the leftover applicants who didn't
get an internship placement grovel via email to all the sites
that didn't get a match. I have been camped out at the visibly
smoky Internet cafe for 12 hours now, waiting with email fax and
phone at the ready, and I'll be back tomorrow morning.

Only one person from my program got matched. Nobody wants
students from a non-accredited site, but APA won't accredit us
until we have students in all levels of the program, including
internship.

I have applied to everything that isn't military or prison. Even
one in British Columbia. Even working with kids! In New Orleans!
For peanuts! (Almost literally.) I
am feeling kind of pessimistic, but maybe that's just the
aftermath of sending out 30 or so applications in 12 hours.

The site stats say there were 669 unmatched applicants, and 309
unmatched positions. So I guess all I can do now is wait. Bleh!

...The Florida conference was good, my presentation went extremely well, and I was accepted into the sisterhood of the crone or something. Tampa was rainy and temperate: in other words, perfect. Also took many pictures. Wanted to update about it, but Clearinghouse has taken over my life for a few days. Now I've been here for so long that it's time to go home and go to bed so I can come back here in the morning. Gah.

Heading off to Florida this weekend for a conference where I'll present my research on Gender Role Traits and Nutrition. This time, I get to use some data/results that I wasn't "allowed" to include in my thesis, so there will be more to present. Also, unlike the APA convention, I will be presenting a paper, not a poster.

Meanwhile, I have a ton of stuff to do but have been having trouble with spinning my wheels and overthinking things. There is a great speaker tonight at the Union (Tim Wise), but I may have to stay home and work on my diss revisions. I don't know; we'll see.

Now that my workload is merely busy and not inhuman, I paradoxically feel less compulsion to post. I guess I use it as an escape--a way to vent--and I just don't have much to vent about right now. (Similar to how so many of us wrote horrible poetry as teenagers, when we had all that angst to expel.)

Every few years I have a fit of looking for people I used to know. For example: people I knew while living in Norway. Since the advent of the "internets", it has become almost unfairly easy. The part that is unsettling for me is that the women have become harder and harder to find. A boy I sat next to in second grade? Easy. A woman I worked with ten years ago? Invisible.

That's one of those problems with the whole marriage and name-change thing, is that it makes women disappear. It may be bad for the present, but it's much worse the longer it goes, especially when we start getting into historic contexts. I have photos of women who are my ancestors, but I only know them as "Mrs. So-and-So". It makes it look as though my ancestry is composed of "men (and their wives)", thus chopping off half the roots of my family tree. It doesn't seem very fair.

I've already changed my own last name once in adulthood (not marriage but a different long story), and I decided to include the last names of both my parents, in a kind of Spanish fashion, I suppose (although I know of no Spanish heritage in my ancestry...at least in my male ancestors!) The Icelandic naming system seems quite useful, too, although it might only work in a tiny population on a remote island. Like...Iceland.

As always, following someone else's blog links leads to delicious time-wasting entertainment. I couldn't resist trying out the British Name Generator.

My very British name is Elizabeth Chamberlain.
Take The Very British Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

(What happens if you put in a name that's already flamingly British?!)

Besides the squirrel-feeding trip, the weekend included one breakfast of Heinz beans and toast (prepared by Chef Limey, imported beans bought specially by me at the British imports section of Meijer), another breakfast delivered by a local Mexican restaurant (though I went traditional American and got pancakes and eggs), an afternoon at the Ugly Mug internet cafe, intermittent viewing of Jeeves and Wooster*, some moderate Meatball viewing (" 'Super ... bowl?' Wot's one of those?") with some colleagues of mine who were luckily more interested in chatting and drinking than in the game, and once or twice waking up before sunrise without the alarm (now that's an accomplishment!).

On the technological front, I figured out how to get those passport photos taken at home to print out razor-sharp, and I also spent some time finally burning a couple CDs and using my dorky (but fun!) little Afterburner CD-labeler. (While fuming at Amazon for posting "lables" on their listings for certain CD label packages.)

I tried to get TheLimey to post this in his blog, but since it's already two days later I've grown impatient and will post it myself. I agreed to take the Geek Test, which is (fittingly) in Excel spreadsheet format. Apparently it's from a friend of his back home who is about to marry someone who is a huge geek and scored an extraordinary, unheard-of 65% on this test! So, anyway. I took it and achieved a 75%. I guess TheLimey now has something to either brag about or cry into his beer over.

We found ourselves arguing over whether it was valid to check "yes" to a question about having attempted to build a robot, since we have not yet actually opened the box with the robot in it. Finally we decided that in the interests of absolute scientific accuracy, we can't take that point until we open the box and begin the actual building. (I think we should probably be gifted/penalized with more points, simply for worrying about whether or not that counted!)

I will let TheLimey tell you his own score. Let's just say I was surprised--not about either score particularly, but about our scores relative to one another.



*Punctuated amusingly by Someone's alternating great booming laughter and interjections of "Idiot!"

Look at this! I forgot about this blogshares ... game ... thing. At least I hope it's a game, and people aren't imagining that my site is actually worth $7,262.11.

This is nice to know in the same way that it's nice to know how much your body is potentially worth in component form.

Placed my ranked list of internship sites into the mouth of the Great Internship Ranking Program today. I hope it spits out the Ohio site, since Erie PA is not only depressing, but twice as far away. The Great Spittage begins on February 25th, when we discover whether or not we were matched to a site. Then, inexplicably, it waits until the 27th to tell us what site that might be.

Of course that weekend is the same weekend I will be in Florida at the Uppity Women Psychologists' annual conference presenting a paper on my research.

I don't feel too worried about the internship matching thing--not because I don't care about the outcome, which will determine a lot of my plans for quite a while--but because it's completely out of my hands at this point. I did the years of work, I underwent the application process, I did my best at the interviews, and now I'm done with my part. (Unless I don't get matched, but then there's nothing more to do until next autumn.)

Went on campus yesterday to get TheLimey's new passport photos (though we may simply redo them at my place, since my camera and printer have been producing such great images).

The weather was very strange and beautiful--just at freezing, and foggy, which produced ice crystal formations over all the trees (see below).

Of course I always have peanuts in my purse, so I dragged him over to the quad where he discovered the joy of hand-feeding squirrels.

First tentative squirrel approach:

I somehow "forgot" to mention to him that rather than holding peanuts out on the palm of one's hand, as for a horse, one must stick the peanut out between finger and thumb. Squirrels have terrible vision, and if your fingers smell like peanuts, they will think the first thing they encounter sticking out is the peanut. This led to a minor nibble. However, TheLimey was very brave and persevered in the feeding attempts.

He may have been paying the squirrels back for the nibble with this bit of squirrel teasing.

(Whereas I will actively go out of my way in order to get the peanuts to the squirrels:)



A serious and scientific examination of the curious crystals:




(Answer: it's H2O!!)

I still wish I could find that --what was it, the excuse generator? The version sung by a robot: "Jean, this is Craig Michaels*..." sung to the tune of Pomp and Circumstance.

Sometimes it gets stuck in my head for no reason at all.

(Wasn't that speech [speeach] program from some previous computer incarnation of yours, Argot? I think it was five years ago.)



*Craig Michaels always reminded me of a former coworker known (to me) as Wretched. I cAn rEaD knows who I mean.

For the linguistically inclined: 'Strine younger than thought.

Even in the '80s Aussies were still saying "be-ah" (and saying it a lot, if I remember correctly. Which I do.)

Funny; just this morning I was thinking that Aussie/Kiwi and even South African accents and cultural referents seem a lot more Englishy than American ones do, and wondering when the various sociolinguistic splits occurred.

Also I recently remembered a Norwegian friend's years-ago conjecture that the notorious American "arrr" (r) came from Irish immigrants, after we watched some movie with Irish people in it. Made sense to me at the time, though I don't know much linguistic history. (Linguistory?)

I bought 2 small packets of little mushy fruit gel things (candy, really, but supposedly with vitamin C) from the clinic snack shelf, and then put them on the kitchenette table while I made some (eww) ramen. Didn't remember them until one of the 1st-years came into the computer lab smelling of fake-fruit, as she was eating them!!

It's my own fault, because people sometimes leave things like batches of brownies for everyone on that table. But I can't help being annoyed, since that was an individually packed item that is for sale in our cabinet, rather than a big basket of homemade muffins or whatever. Darnit!

Trying to spend less time online, as I think it is depressing me simply through online inertia.

It seems as though the Nude Squirrel may be regrowing its fur! The all-over pink has that grey "pre-fur" look the past few days. I'm very happy that he or she had a strong enough immune system to fight off the mange organism during the dead of winter. I like to think that my peanut offerings contributed to his or her survival.

Probably a great number of factors left out of this, but what the heck.

I've done it: I've downloaded the Google beta desktop search. I couldn't help myself. How could I not want something that can search the content of all my files instead of just the names?

I always name files weird things anyway. (Although I generally don't notice that until later when I'm trying to find something very important and it's named "FlapJack24_Feb" instead of "buckwheat pancake recipe" or whatever.)

Anyway, my searchables are very small but I'm still excited about being able to search them.

Last night TheLimey and I stopped by a nearby bar "just for a few minutes!" to say hi to a number of my colleagues who had gathered to celebrate the birthday of one of our number. Of course we ended up staying about two hours, but got away having only consumed one beer and half a burger each.

I was very happy to actually spend some time with my friends. This past year I've seen them extremely little since our classes together ended, and we've all been so individually busy with our requirements. We really only have a few months together remaining. It seems like this four years has simultaneously been a lifetime and like it's gone by in a flash.

As the founding cohort of PhD students in this program, I've always thought we ought to start some odd tradition that all subsequent students would do, but I have had a hard time coming up with anything. Some things I've suggested included: carrying kids' lunchboxes (which actually caught on for a while there), calling each other by our last names (partly motivated by the multiple first names in our ranks), feeding squirrels (of course), and a few other things. It may be that the only thing that lives on is an as-yet-unformulated drink called a "Tight Goat".

Don't ask.

Found a "blog disclaimer" (see at right) on Bacon, Cheese, and Oatcakes. (Ironically, after reading B, C, & O, I feel like I know the author!)

If I keep finding items to add to my sidebar, it's going to look like a teenage AOLer's pretty soon.

Experiencing incredible resistance to doing the rewrites of my dissertation proposal. I don't want to ever do anything again! Anything.

One kind of odd phenomenon in therapy is that all one's clients on a particular day may be doing the same thing. Maybe they're all having the same issue that they're "stuck" on, or they're all late that day, or tired, or they're all experiencing hopefulness about the future, etc. etc.

Last week all my clients were having big emotional breakthroughs--I would say that three out of five cried during their sessions. And what happens after a big emotional breakthrough? You retreat for a while to digest it or lick your wounds, however you want to view it. So this week all my clients were much less emotionally forthcoming.

I guess some of this can be attributed to external factors, like elections or weather or the beginning of the semester. But as a therapist, I recognize that my psychological state affects what happens with my clients. If I am in tune with myself and feeling grounded, then things go much better. I think last week I was really in a state where I had the strength to challenge and support my clients to really look at some difficult things face-to-face, as opposed to continuing to report them to me in an intellectual fashion.

One quote (from someone I can't remember) is that "in order to be a good therapist, one must be well-fed and well-loved." I would add to that "...with a good night's sleep."

Well, this goes a long way in explaining this week! (Random bloghopping got me there.)

I imagine that it's not a dichotomous state, but rather an ebb and flow, so we're still low-ish, but on the upswing towards a feeling of general well-being.

This one is for Eric, whom I promised a while ago to send some recipes for Norwegian treats. Now that I have a scanner all of my very own, I can create pdf files! (Note: this one is 30 pages long, so it may be a long download.) I tried using the OCR, and it was surprising how much it recognized (even included the little illustrations of cakes and things). However, I didn't have time to scan and then edit 30 pages of recipes, so a pdf file it is. The original book is very nice and Norsk-like and can be found on Amazon, if used.

I scanned all the recipes in a foot-high pile of Shape magazine so now I can Freecycle them, since I was vaguely imagining that I was keeping them for the recipes. (Did I already write this before? ...Note to self: make list of extraneous stuff to post on Freecycle!)

I have also been randomly scanning any of my own recipes that I wrote on an index card and stuffed into my recipe books, too. Oh, and I also scanned the lovely Library Squirrel cookies recipe printout I brought home in...December? November? I guess I could have just waited to download the message onto my jumpdrive and bring it home, but I was busy having a scanning frenzy. Also a throwing-things-out frenzy. It's fun!! It's January!

Wow, that Singulair really is the magic bullet for asthma--at least my asthma. I took one yesterday and have already reduced my need for any kind of inhalers at all by about 75%.

Also realized that I hate being a patient. I often tell my clients that while I am an expert in terms of being a clinician, they are the only person who will ever be an expert on their own lives. This doctor visit reminded me not to let that concept slip away.

I have been thinking about how many things are probably dust mite havens: my futon, for example, is probably one giant 80-pound dust mite colony at this point. Plush toys would be another one. Considering that exposure during the first year of life is an important factor in developing dust mite sensitivity, I suggested to TheLimey that any potential offspring of ours would have to be kept well away from dust mite repositories during their infancy. "Ceramic cubes," he replied, "instead of soft toys* they'll have ceramic cubes." Later he softened this idea to "ceramic cubes with smiley faces drawn on".

Of course, there's always the "giant plastic gerbil ball" idea, too.


*Perhaps they could have the kind of soft toys that can be thrown in the wash on a weekly basis.

ARG! Just when I was beginning to trust Blogger again. I hit "publish" and got the "page not found" page, and when I back-arrowed, all the huge long post I had just typed in had disappeared, and only a big blank "post your entry" field waited. Dammit.

Anyway, the post basically consisted of a description of how contrary I got to feeling at the doctor's office when asked to describe my asthma for the five million and one-th time to a new doctor so they can come up with exactly the same prognosis as the previous five million. (And after I described in lurid detail the way in which I felt stress has been contributing to my current asthmatic state, the first doctor pointed out that stress is something that can contribute to asthma.)

So, they did give me what I asked for (Singulair) but acted kind of like I was insane for wanting it. And I couldn't come up with a rational reason for why I didn't want steroids, and my reason for not wanting to take things (Advair) with Serevent in them (deaths) as well as steroids, too, was politely pooh-poohed. So anyway, got both things (Singulair and Advair) as samples, so at least I get killed for free, for now. Hopefully my ability to get 8 hours of sleep a night will reduce my need for any and all of this.

Also have replaced my 3-year-old bed pillows, as TheLimey heard on NPR that 2-year-old bed pillows can consist of 10% dust mites/dust mite excrement, by weight. Not only is that allergenic, it's downright revolting!

Spent the weekend cocooning at home (my home) with TheLimey and my new techno-toys, and doing such domestic things as grocery shopping and trying out tofurky. (Initially turkey-like, but then becomes non-turkeyish after a while). We also spent one morning working on our laptops at a nearby cafe, which turns out to now have wi-fi (though we were out of cash after the coffees, so didn't tap into it.) One highlight of the weekend was watching The Village in bed, with popcorn.

Now that I have a printer at home and have fewer meetings, I have less reason to venture onto campus at all. It turns out that even if I therefore neglect my email entirely for a weekend, nothing explodes or disintegrates, although it feels weird, like ignoring a compulsion. I think I enjoy the less-Internet-interaction mode.

In fact I find I've really been avoiding going outside at all, now that just stepping outside my door results in a giant asthma attack. I have an appointment in about half an hour at which I will request Singulair, which has worked well for ArgotNaut. I haven't had asthma this bad since I was a kid, and I don't think it's ever lasted this long. I attribute it to all that stress since summer, and hope it will diminish as my routine returns to somewhat normal...

Received my printer today, but have not yet opened the box. I'm awaiting cartridges before I even try to set up. (I already know there are no starter cartridges in it, because the seller said so.) Oh, heck--I probably won't be able to resist when I actually go home, though.

Luckily for me, I was actually working at home when the shipper arrived!! I was foiled in my rantery, for it was DHL, not UPS. I imagine all the same things apply. This semester I actually have the freedom to do somewhat more of my work at home, which may invalidate my previous rant.

In looking up "mangy squirrels" online, I discovered that it is apparently BAD to feed mangy squirrels! (Poor cold, hungry things). This is because the food may attract other squirrels, who might then catch mange, too. However (wait for the rationalization...here it comes...), since that tree is so near to where I already throw so many peanuts, it hardly seems to matter.

I think that by not carefully preparing my lectures* around the text chapters, I have already spent all my really interesting stuff for class in about two sessions. That is, I know what stuff is interesting and surprising (race is not a biological matter but a social construct, and ramifications. Sex is way more ambiguous than we think, and ramifications, etc.) and I can just stand there and talk about it and get people to respond. I notice they seem more likely to write down the boring stuff, especially lists. Anyway, now I expect that the entire rest of the semester will bore the poor creatures to death.

Today: removed the algae from the bamboo vase in my bathroom, and also severely trimmed the bamboo itself. It's about 18 months overdue for its annual maintenance. But at that time I couldn't, and then recently I ... also couldn't. So there it is now, waiting at home in my bathroom, all clear and pristine and lovely.

Tomorrow: I get to stay home all day, although this will entail finally doing those dissertation proposal revisions to which I agreed a week ago. However, it will also allow me to do some more throwing out, as well as receive my shipments of ink cartridges, and cardigans, and--yes, okay!! Also some really nice orange-smelling shower gel from the Body Shop. Geez, give me the third degree. What?! No, I'm not defensive about spending money!!

Maybe the scanner will arrive, too...I can't wait to scan all the recipes in three years worth of Shape magazine, so I can Freecycle those glossy fakey 20-something never-lifted-over-a-5-lb-weight hides.

Still like the recipes, though.

Note to self: cancel Shape subscription, get Mother Jones.

*This is not a blindingly wonderful site or anything. It's just to allow them to get their assignments and to see their grades. However, the current background photo does display the most squirrel-rich area on campus, which is always a plus.

I was supposed to rewrite my methods section over the weekend, but in fact did bugger-all. In fact, I felt like I could barely move, except to roll over onto my other side. It was my first free weekend since early June. (Well, okay, we did go to Portland over Labor Day weekend, but that’s different. Travel is fun, but surely doesn’t count as stress-free.)

I have been forced to completely neglect everyone and everything in my life in the way that one does when there is a huge push to get some urgent task finished, gobbling up early mornings and late nights, usually lasting a few days or maybe a week. However, for me it’s lasted for months and months and months!

I have a strange feeling of unreality when I look back at this past academic year. I know I already reported the things I did, but I keep feeling compelled to actually write them out in explicit list form.

So here it is,

What I accomplished in somewhat over five months:

*Attended (and presented my research at) my first APA convention
*Wrote and defended my thesis, then rewrote (from the hypotheses up) and redefended my thesis (still resentful about that one, BTW)
*Wrote my Giant Comprehensive Qualifying Exams
*Underwent the grueling process of internship applications
*Developed my dissertation from the concept stage up through selecting my committee, research, designing, and writing the proposal stages, all the way through to scheduling and successfully presenting the proposal defense
*Undertook the actual internship interviews out of state

…and I did all these things while simultaneously:

*Teaching my first class for the first time
*Maintaining 10-20 clinic hours a week

So, no wonder I haven’t sent out holiday cards this year, or written letters, or even read my mail from September/October that was still sitting on my coffee table, or cleaned out my refrigerator, or …everything, really.

My Shipping Rant or Why I Hate When Online Sellers Use UPS

Since I love the Virtuverse so much--and also because I am without a car in an area that is set up for car transport only--I tend to buy a lot of stuff online: Amazon (books, used movies) , eBay (stuff), British Delights (Marmite, Twiglets), Nordic House (Gloegg, chocolate), Newport News (inexpensive clothes), etc.

Thus, obviously, the whole point of having items sent to my home is to get them at my home, rather than having to make the three-hour bus trip to a (relatively close) shopping location. Because I ... do not have ... three extra hours ... to sit on buses these days.

Now, the thing about my apartment building is that it has a security door. This was very nice when I was concerned that a certain internet stalker might seek me out in the real world, for example, but it makes receiving shipments of things a helluva lot more difficult.

The US Postal Service is fine, and great, and wonderful, and I wish everyone would use it! The mail carrier has a key to our building and can leave packages either at my actual apartment door or in the locked package bin that I have provided for precisely that purpose (I felt guilty at his having to climb 3 flights of stairs to give me a new turtleneck or old VHS tape).

Any other shipping service...fuggettaboudit. UPS won't leave packages in the foyer outside the security door because of our neighborhood, and the tendency for homeless persons to avail themselves of our radiator in the bitter cold (understandably!). UPS won't even leave packages at our building if you sign the slip and leave it for them. Have a neighbor sign for it? Oh, come on, this is a poor working class/student area. Nobody I know is sitting at home during the day every weekday waiting to sign for my various packages, at least not reliably.

So here's what invariably happens when I get a UPS shipment: first I receive email notification that whatever I ordered is arriving via UPS, along with a tracking number. I swear a whole lot, and then wait for UPS to come to my house and leave a post-it stating "DELIVERY ATTEMPT", with a red ballpoint circle around the phrase "to pick up please call 1-800-whatever" (as though in mockery of my carless status.)

Now, it is supposed to be possible to change the delivery address online, on the tracking page. This would be very useful, because then I could change the address from work, as soon as the delivery attempt was made, without having to physically be there. However, the tracking page has never, NEVER given me that option in the years I have been trying to make it do so. I'm not a dumbass, and I'm also not online-dyslexic. I am not just overlooking something obvious, I swear. I don't know if it has something to do with my particular address or what, but I can not change the delivery address online.

So, that evening, or the following day if I'm too tired by the time I drag myself home in the middle of the night (and after a great deal of additional muttered swearing), I call the number and have the shipment changed to the psych department or maybe the psych clinic. Naturally, the UPS 800 number is answered by a recording that urges me to visit their website if I want to change the shipping address, before it allows me to go on hold to wait for a real person.

Since this change in shipping address takes more than one day to "go through", I always get to come home the following day to the same post-it: "DELIVERY ATTEMPT", only this time the ballpoint circles around the "please come to the UPS station and pick this up yourself, dammit" are more numerous and desperate. As though I have purposely had items delivered somewhere that I know I can't receive them. Knowing that my awaited items were this close and then taken away again--twice--always makes me fume impotently.

Now, having had the shipment diverted to my workplace has already subverted the intent of having them delivered to my home, since at this point I have to add whatever it is to my already textbook-overloaded cart and drag it home through the snow. (At least it's marginally downhill.) So that's a strike against the workplace delivery idea.

The other thing is the long, long wait: typically, I have to wait until the following week to get whatever was delivered, since UPS only delivers on weekdays. Usually, the first delivery attempt is on a Tuesday or Wednesday, and I end up getting the shipment on the following Monday or Tuesday. So there goes a large chunk of the "convenience" aspect.

Recently, I ordered some books I needed when I was so desperately writing my dissertation proposal. I tried having them delivered to the department just to save time--even had them put a rush on it. However, all four ended up being delivered weeks later, after I had already turned the proposal in, since the department and the clinic were closed for the whole week between Christmas and New Year, and you can't change your shipping address until a delivery attempt has been made!

Believe me, I have tried. It doesn't matter if I have the tracking number or anything. The rules are, I must first come home to that magical, infuriating post-it that says my stuff was there and I wasn't. Then, and only then, am I allowed to change the damn address. (And wait two more business days, i.e. four or five more actual days).

So, aside from the part about dragging stuff home in my cart, why don't I just always get stuff delivered to my workplace? Well, for one, it's my workplace, and having all these random packages from eBay coming in kind of feels unprofessional. But more importantly, there are a lot of sellers who will only ship to your credit card billing address, in order to circumvent fraud. (Understandable, yet infuriating.) Also, I rarely know beforehand how a given item will be shipped, so I try my luck at having it sent to my home if given the choice.

I think there has been one place I lived during the past 10 years to which UPS would deliver by leaving things at the door. Other than that, I have been frustratedly doing this ridiculous delivery dance the entire time.

Obviously, UPS is great for businesses, which are likely to be open during the day, weekdays, and thus to have someone to sign for everything. But how can UPS be useful for home delivery to individuals, when this has to be happening all the time? I guess it's fine for people who either have a car to go to the UPS station, or who have the hours and hours to make use of the incredibly inefficient public transportation. Once again, it all comes down to this being a Car Nation.

Michigan has become "finger-splittingly cold" as Library Squirrel pointed out regarding her own town. This morning I saw that the Nude Squirrel has divested itself of even more hair, and is now almost entirely bald. TheLimey says this is simply a ploy to get me to deliver its peanuts directly to the foot of its tree. If so, the ploy is working.

An old friend from Norway recently emailed me to say that he checked out my blog, and then fell asleep, supposedly with no direct connection. (Huh! I'll bet.)

I am far too excited about having my own printer and scanner for the first time ever. Setting them up this weekend is what I'm most looking forward to! Mmmm....fresh technology.

I definitely have New Year's Throwoutitis. I even subscribed to my local Freecycle in order to not feel guilty about the stuff I'm getting rid of. Now that I have my PDA data backed up [twice over], I am free to remove the PC that Frinkenstein and ArgotNaut gave me about ...what, 4? 5? years ago (all sentimental attachment aside). Last night I completely took it apart, and a Freecycler is coming by this evening to pick up the Syquest drive. He sounds very excited about recovering some files somewhere.

I think I will have to list my library cart as well, as much as I liked the idea of it initially. It's just too heavy and big for an apartment, and currently resides stuffed into a closet with shoes and a big toolbox on it. I still don't really know how I got it up three flights of stairs by myself.

One thing I don't understand is why I have lately been having so many hits related to UTI treatment. That post has been up for months. Why the sudden interest in the past few weeks?

Today I finally bought a printer and scanner. On eBay. I ended up getting the printer cartridges on Amazon, though, and they cost as much as the printer (and more than the scanner).

I also received the Palm IIIe I ordered from eBay primarily to get the desktop software, so I can finally Hotsync with my laptop--I mean, Clu. I can't tell you how much fun it was to finally back up everything onto him. Unfortunately, Clu wouldn't read the CD, which freaked me out a bit, but then TheLimey loaded it onto his computer, and then transferred it to Clu via his WiFi. Very complicated, but made the victory all the sweeter as it was dragged from the jaws of defeat.

This also means I now have a spare Palm IIIe, which means that I still don't have to update. Since I was also fantasizing about getting a VHS player for the bathroom, TheLimey envisions a room full of outdated technology, all multiples of the same item. (And a lot of VHS tapes). It would be called "Liz's '80s room", although strictly speaking, most of it wasn't invented until the '90s or later. However, the potential for mockery is still valid.

(I'm also supposed to mention that leg warmers will be available at the door for those who could not otherwise conform to the dress code.)

Written at home a few days ago, forgot to bring it in to post:

At this morning’s peanut toss, I could see that some of my squirlies are already pregnant with this year’s winter-baby batch. How they can raise a family during February inside what is basically a wad of dry leaves crammed into the crotch of a tree, I don’t know. Seems like those hairless squirlitos/-as would be awfully chilly. Maybe it selects for genetically cold-hardy squirrels?

Turns out that squirrels do not like salted peanuts. I suspect that a lot of salt is bad for them, as it is for us, but I didn’t know if they would know that. I received some salted peanuts as a (squirrel-feeding) gift, but they only went for it for one day. The following day they would sniff at the salted ones and move on, only taking the bait if I tossed out some unsalted ones. I would guess they OD’d on the salt and then decided “never again!” even though I put them out on a melty day with plenty of liquid puddles. I thought if they were hungry enough salted peanuts would be better than none, but apparently the squirrels don’t agree.

Now I have all these salted peanuts…

After the "Provisional Pass," I was too exhausted to even be excited about it. I went home, broke out in several spots, and tried to sleep but found all the thoughts I haven't had time to process for the past 6 months rattling around in my head every time I lay my head on the pillow. Then I had a long day at the student clinic, and had to use a cartload of Albuterol when the walk home proved too cold for my lungs. So by 5 this morning, I awoke full of stimulants and newly giddy from lack of deadline and lack of sleep, in a practically hypomanic state.

It was as though my brain, having been wearing a brain girdle for so many months, was suddenly sprung loose. I actually had a pot of tea ready before TheLimey's BBC alarm went off. (Then I harassed him with my general awakeness until he was forced to wake up, too.) I've been giggling for no reason at odd moments, like in the shower, and am suddenly remembering all the things I've meant to do since...oh, September. Not just do, but even the momentary thoughts I meant to pursue, the food I meant to eat, the movies I haven't seen...

Now, don't get me wrong, I still have plenty of work to do. It's just that I finished all these ridiculous deadlines that I had to do in order to finish my degree and go on internship.

Now must go to Home Depot for brunch. More later.

I'm now awaiting the verdict on whether my committee will approve my study or not. I'm kind of concerned about one member that my advisor really wanted, but whom I had only met once, maybe 2 or 3 years ago. I think he's not hip to the circumstances forcing the collective hands of the students in my cohort ("approve now, then fix before sending in to the grad school")! I think he wishes I would be more fluent in speaking statistic-ese. (Compared to most people, of course, I am, but not next to a Stats Master...)

Now that I think of it, in the past 4-1/2 months, I have: defended my thesis (more than once), written my comprehensive exams, done internship applications and interviews, and developed my dissertation proposal from the ground up. Which is really a honkin' big lotta work.

Hope it's approved, even provisionally! [crosses fingers] ... [crosses other fingers]

Tomorrow: dissertation proposal presentation.

(If it ain't one big life-eating task, it's another.)

But now, must go set up rudimentary website for my prejudice class, since WebCT gave my students such a hard time last semester.

Thursday morning as I was getting ready to leave, I had the news on because I was following the Snow Tsunami that was hogging the exact route I intended to take to Pennsylvania.

I saw a brief news clip regarding the shooting death of a (relatively) nearby recording studio guy, and it crossed my mind that his name sounded familiar. I wondered if it might be someone who was somehow related to my musical circle.

A day or two later, I received the following email from a recording-days pal of mine, whose name I have omitted (just to maintain his privacy):

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My friends,

Tuesday of this week I learned that my friend AJ was murdered in his recording studio, probably sometime over the weekend. We know little else.

For two days after I felt physically sick and I'm still in disbelief, it just doesn't seem possible that this could happen to such a wonderful person. I had only known AJ for about a year and a half, and every time I saw him he had a smile. When I first met him I just could not believe that he was for real. No one is that positive and upbeat ALL the time! I have met way too many people in the music industry who will, for instance, ask you how you are doing but then get annoyed with more than a two word answer. When AJ asked how you were doing, he really meant it and eventually I realized that.

Just a few weeks ago we had spent a Saturday night roaming Metro Detroit checking out bands that he knew or had worked with and even stopped by Greektown Casino for a bit to play the slots - which I never do because I never win. I won about $30, which is a lot of nickels and paid for my night out (I'm cheap)... AJ pointed out that it was a good night. We stopped for dinner at a restaurant in Greek town and he shared some of his octopus with me so I could try it - these little things seem meaningless until you look back on them.

I was supposed to see him early this week to consult with him on work he wanted done at his studio. I left him a message on Monday after I left work, but he didn't answer his phone so I left a message.

AJ was a percussionist in addition to being a recording engineer and he was currently playing with Jody Raffoul's "Like a Star" band. Do me a favor, please go to Jody's website and take a moment to see why the Detroit music scene is so choked up this week:

http://www.jodyraffoul.com/index.html

--[RecordingGuy]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I spoke with RecordingGuy later on the phone and he told me that the bit about stolen equipment as a motive is BS and appears to be an afterthought (just a couple things that weren't screwed into racks). Furthermore, it was someone he knew, as there was no forced entry.

The moral?

I guess it's the usual kind of message that seems so sappy when we see it on a greeting card, but suddenly seems so profound when we're confronted yet again with evidence of how fragile we all are: love one another; you never know how much time you have. Also, don't wait, do whatever it is you want to do with your life now, because life is way shorter than you think.

Here's the best thing so far to come up when I did a Google search for "topless squirrels": the Roadkill Museum. (Hey, it's a lot better than the Janitor on Scrubs killing and stuffing his own Squirrel Army.)

Speaking of Scrubs (which reminds me just a bit too much of our grad school program), here are a few TV shows which you may be surprised (or horrified) that I like. I know I'm horrified as well as surprised. Also keep in mind that I don't have cable, so this is all viewed* via rabbit ears on a very small screen.


Dr. Phil: Y'know, I really apologize, but I do sometimes like this show. (Although I'm bored by the weight loss episodes, of course.) Some of my more-behavioral colleagues are upset that this show gives the impression that someone can be "cured" in half an hour (instead of the weeks and months that the interventions really take offscreen). However, I have approved of a lot of his interventions. Furthermore, I like the way in which he confronts people with unpleasant truths about themselves in a straightforward, open manner that says "We're friends here, but you gotta stop doing A or B, because it leads to X." I also like that he does therapy in a way that makes it seem more accessible to "average" guys, who are the ones we find staying away from therapy in droves, drinking, and driving their wives into it.

Nanny 911: For similar reasons. This is basically family therapy, with really basic, simple, behavioral interventions. However, as the women are not therapists but nannies, I do notice that they are a lot more judgmental and personal in the way they approach the confrontation. (I.e., we would be skinned alive if we dared to roll our eyes at something a client said or did!) Still, the show does a good job of showing the reason why I don't specialize in children: parents want their "naughty" kids "fixed", while they want to maintain the environment and behaviors that are causing their kids' misbehavior in the first place. (Also shows how parents completely misunderstand the behavioral basis and the whole point of "Time Out" and therefore misuse it, then claim that "we tried that and it doesn't work with our kid".)

Medium: It sounds terrible, but I like Patricia Arquette. Also, I like supernatural-y shows as well as detective shows. So there you have it. I have always had a soft spot for weird shows like this (Remember Millennium, with Lance Henriksen? Or even Profiler, with that woman with the maddening eye-quirks?)

Boston Legal: Now, how can I dislike a show that features James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise as well as Chief Security Officer Odo of Deep Space Nine, now as attorneys?! (But Shatner is actually acting in this one.) It has some of the quirkiness that dumb Ally McBeal had, without all that infuriating borderline-personality anorexic-manhunt teen-girl BS. (Now, also includes Candice Bergen for added grownup appeal!)

Charmed: No redeeming quality whatsoever. I have no excuse for myself here. I just like shows with "magickal" stuff in. (And I like to fantasize on days of overwork that if I just showered and put on some makeup, I could look sort of like that, too. ) You would think I'd like Buffy for similar reasons, but have instead had a hard time getting into it. I think I prefer the sisterhood aspect of Charmed.

Okay, now the truly guilty one--Blind Date: (Don't confuse this with Elimidate, which in my opinion is simply a staged catfight and they might as well just do it in Jell-o.) But I am interested to see what weird things people do and don't like about each other in a face-to-face context. (I especially liked a recent episode in which a woman tried to get her date to act like a vampire, since vampires turn her on, and another episode in which a very religious woman tried to read the Bible to her date in the hot tub, and then angrily accused him of lusting after her instead of listening since she was wearing a bikini.)

And of course, reruns of X-Files.

Ones you probably won't be too surprised that I watch:

Canadian Air Farce: Canadian TV rocks. Especially Canadian comedy. Thank heavens I get TVO (Ontario) since I'm in Michigan.

Heartbeat: I know, but I can't help it. I'm all involved with the characters now, even though they are from the '70s. It's new to me!

Rosemary & Thyme: The name of the show is terribly affected of course, but I like the lady detectives. (Add to my list of ever-so-brief British detective series.)

Frasier: Again, little redeeming quality, though it makes me feel temporarily highbrow if I get the jokes.

Oh, pretty much anything Nova or otherwise on TVO or PBS . (Except for Lawrence Welk.)

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*[When do I have time to watch TV? Well ... I don't usually "watch" it so much as have it on while I'm working, especially late at night. (Feels like someone else is also awake, so it keeps me awake, too.) This association has grown so strong that now it's difficult for me to simply put on a movie and watch it, unless I'm also working. Also, serious TV is hard for me to watch, because my brain is already fried, so it's best if it's something that is very fluffy and can be ignored for most of the program. Once I graduate, I'll get back to TV that I have to work to understand.] So it's not like I sit around waiting for any of these to come on, (or even know what day of the week they're on, to be honest) but I do occasionally watch them when it turns out they're on.

Just wanted to let people know I made it back to Michigan with no adverse events. There was another snowstorm on the second day of interviews, but things were cleared up by the time I got on the road.

I liked the Ohio location a lot better than the Pennsylvania location--Erie seemed like a town that was crushed during the Depression and never came back, whereas Kent* seemed like a cool small town with University-town features. However, both places seemed like they would work a person half to death, as apparently is typical for consortium sites. (A consortium site is one that uses interns kind of in a time-share way with rotations between two or more treatment centers/clinics/whatever.)

Also found out from a current intern that one can still get student loans during the internship year! (One of the few unmarried interns, so she knew what she was talking about.) Which solves my financial crisis for next year, although of course it would have been nice to get interviews at one of the higher-paid sites so as not to increase my already-staggering student-loan balance.

*Yes, that is Kent as in Kent State University, home of the student-shooting National Guard.

Just a quick post to mention that I made it to my motel in Penn-syl-VAY-nee-ah [thunder crack] ...ah ah ah ah ah...

However, instead of the optimistic 4.5 hours suggested by Mapquest, it took 9 hours. A couple extra hours for weather, an extra hour for when I was somehow shunted onto the I-80 instead of the I-90 (I swear, normally I am an above-average navigator), and an hour for driving around this stupid secluded hilly area looking for the actual motel, since Mapquest gave inconsistent directions. (At one point, I actually pulled in to the parking lot next to the motel while looking at my maps, and then went on driving around for another half an hour.) There was some easy, light-out, no-traffic, dry driving, and then later there was some scary, dark, truckfull [or lorryfull], icy-shiny, and dark driving, but I didn't have any close calls, and I made it.

Now my main concern is that I'm very tired and cranky (as opposed to what--how I normally am? Ha!) And this evening was supposed to be my cram/review time.

Well, actually, this entire autumn was supposed to be that, but it was other work instead. And then last week was supposed to be that, but was proposal-writing instead. And then the past couple days were supposed to be that, but instead were taken up with things like --OOPS! Still haven't updated the syllabus nor written a 3-hour lecture and my new class begins tonight! And so on and so on.

So here I am, 14 hours before the interview, with a giant pile of hardbound texts--15, to be exact, wishing it was 4pm instead of 11pm. I could have gotten so much more cramming done!

Also, if I hear anything like "Oh, don't worry about it--if you haven't learned it during the past four years, then you wouldn't have learned it this afternoon, either" I have to say that is dead wrong. Last-minute cramming does work, and can make a huge difference.

Kind of funny--here I am out in the utter boonies, in the howling dead of winter in a cheap(ish) motel featuring a country band, but I'm using free wi-fi, and talking to TheLimey (who is in Florida right now) on my cellphone. ( And making Peach Apricot Honeybush tea in the in-room coffeemaker.) Très new millenium.

Okay, off to cramming.

(Perhaps in the bath...ah, the DSM-IV [Text Revision], the Comparative Interventions for Adult Disorders, the Guide to Managed Health Care Systems, and some nice hot bubbles.)

Also, apropos of nothing, why in the universe did someone have to find my site (through Italian MSN, no less) with the search terms "mistress strap on clips"?! Is it just to make me puzzled/upset/disgusted?? And while I can fit some of those terms together to make some kind of fetishy concept....what the heck is the deal with "clips"?! No, please don't actually tell me.

In other news, the mangy squirrel has lost all the hair on its front half. I can't tell you how pathetic a half-naked, half-pink squirrel looks hopping through a foot of snow. I placed a pile of peanuts at the foot of its tree, in hopes of reducing its foraging time just a little bit. Poor little scrawny topless squirrel.

(Great, another likely search term! "Topless squirrels".)

If anyone has any psychic powers, prayers that work, good vibes, or whatever it is you do, please send them my way tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day I drive all day to Pennsylvania in a borrowed car, and tomorrow is also the day that we are due to be hit by a giant snowstorm that will supposedly close everything down.

I just didn't want to leave that ranty post as my last entry. I'm still kind of crabby, but I know from experience that something will work out, somehow, darnit.

At least I did find my other required committee member "from outside the department" today, (ridiculous requirement that it is)...

Well, must go home and sulk, or else get to reviewing all the material I've learned for the past 7 years in preparation for these interviews coming up. Or, heck, why not do both, sulk and review? I think I'll do that.

I did wear my new suit today, as a kind of test drive (my new client no-showed, so there was no need to dress up after all), and received numerous compliments. So, at least I look prestigious, even if I'm heading for "dirt-poor". (Is this what is known as genteel poverty?)

Oh, and also, I finally replaced my 12-year-old boots that sadly wore out last year, as well as my 7-year-old "gym shoes" that also wore out last year but I've still been wearing anyway. I had reluctantly, guiltily decided that I would likely spend $60 and get 3 pairs of shoes (needed interview shoes), but in fact spent $50 and got 4 pairs of shoes.

So those things are good. (The shoes will probably last through the internship year, anyway.)

Okay, this is going to be one of those entries in which I complain and feel sorry for myself (despite all the really wonderful things in my life for which I am truly grateful.) So, CAUTION! RAMPANT COMPLAINING AHEAD! (Avoid if you're already depressed, because I am going to get full-on cranky.)

When I applied to internship sites, I really didn't even look at the pay rate (or "stipend", as it is termed), because students in my brand-new program can't really afford to be choosers, due to our still-pending APA-approval status.

So now that I have two interviews, for which I counted myself lucky, I did finally look at some of those things. It turns out that my two interviewing sites are in the $11-12,000 range. This is already a drop from my current graduate-school stipend, and I can (obviously) no longer supplement it with student loans once I am no longer a student.

So, let's just say for argument's sake that I get the slightly lower, $11,000 position. After taxes off the top of my check, this will mean approximately $780 a month.

Now, where I currently live I kind of lucked out in having not only a relatively low rent for my place, but also kind of a scatterbrained (and kindly) landlord who hasn't raised my rent in the four years I've been here, so it's still $525. Let's just assume that I will be even luckier and miraculously find a place for the exact same amount in my new circumstances.

$ +780 <---(fat pay)
-525 rent
- 70 phone
- 30 lowball estimate of electric or whatever utilities I may have
-------------
= 155/month

...for everything else: food, clothing, dental and medical expenses (god help me if I get--oh, I don't know, bitten by a dog, or have an asthma attack or something), membership fees for the various psychological organizations I pretty much have to be in...

So, while I was kind of excited at the beginning of the week, this facet of the experience has been sinking in over the past couple of days. I considered how everyone else in my cohort might be dealing with this, and realized that for pretty much everyone else, they are either married or LTP (Living Together with Partner).

And also for pretty much everyone else, they have parents who have been helping them out in concrete ways such as: buying or fixing their cars, taking them grocery shopping from time to time, helping out with medical expenses, and just generally being parents. (Realistically speaking, this is probably also a big factor in my being car-free, although I'd like to claim it's entirely because I'm very environment-conscious.)

I guess I imagined that once we were into the internship phase, we'd start being treated like the professionals we're meant to act like. However, it looks instead like I will be expected to do all this high-level, sophisticated output and functioning, in a suit, for 60 hours a week--and then go home to write my dissertation on nights and weekends--all while receiving even less input than before. (Basically, the resources of a teenage runaway working illicitly at Burger King.)

I've literally been making myself sick with work for years on end, and the circumstances just keep getting harder, and harder, and harder. It just feels like every freakin' step of the way there's been this carrot dangling in front of me: "if you just push a little bit harder, work a little bit more just to get over the next hill, then things will finally start to be better."

Instead, every snowy hill I get over, there's a bigger, snowier hill on the other side, and generally someone takes away another piece of my equipment at the same time. Whoops! There go my snowshoes. Yoink! No coat and hat. Come on, you can travel at night, as well as during the day!

I spoke with a colleague this morning about internship sites. His lowest-paying interview site is $15,000. And he's married, and both he and his wife have parents who help them out.

Why did he get better-paying offers? Two reasons: 1. I only applied to sites within about 400 miles, while he applied to sites all over the country, and; 2. I got a lot fewer practicum hours/assessment hours last year than others in my cohort (for personal reasons that some of you know), making even more strikes against me in the competitive internship lottery.

So there is really no stick in this situation of which I don't have the short, sharp, pointy end.

(Well, I did warn you there'd be rampant complaining!)

(There, I feel better.)

Just sent the draft of my proposal to my committee members. I hope they are extremely tolerant and will still schedule for January 15th or before, in order that I might meet my deadline and be allowed to go on internship next year!!

Am irrationally angry right now. Or I guess I should say, diffusely angry, because I'm angry at everything in general, but it makes sense. I was very excited this morning (I even put on music and was dancing!) and thought I was all done, but then when I got to the clinic to email the draft, I realized I had forgotten to do the references section!

Yes, blah blah [rolling eyes exasperatedly], I normally do the references as I go (as not one but several people have now very helpfully mentioned) but this document was a real bitch as far as continuity. It was all I could do to make the arguments flow in an understandable fashion, without stopping every five seconds to go to the bottom of the document and write some giant arcane reference. I'm telling you, it was too hard to do it this time.

I kept thinking I would do the references at home one "free" evening and then paste the section in. Well, guess who never has free nights?

I initially thought, "Oh, it's okay--this will only take maybe an hour, and then I can actually take the afternoon off for once and relax, or clean my apartment, before I start doing all the other work I need to do tomorrow." So ... here I still am NINE freakin' hours later. Who was I kidding? I've done this kind of writing before! (Apparently before, I always did the references as I went, so I guess I didn't notice the 9 extra hours.)

I guess that makes sense when I chance to notice that I have an 11-page reference section. It didn't seem that big when I was writing the text! (And of course it will grow when I actually do the study.) So with references, I sent off a 47-page proposal.

Haven't heard from my advisor all week (she's probably even more sick of this than I am), so I just sent the darn thing off to all my committee members anyway. If I get in trouble, then so be it.

So, anyway, that diffuse anger... yep, a nice change from diffuse weeping and sobbing, I guess. (That was earlier in the day, when I still imagined I could leave the clinic while it was light out.) Now merely a light hate, modest animosity, or extreme irritation towards everything in sight. (Damn this piece of dust on my fingertip!!)

Luckily for me, some kindly friends stopped by and brought me some food in the middle of the day. (A turkey burger, if you must know, which is coincidentally a term TheLimey is very fond of repeating out loud, for some reason.)

So...pay some bills online, if I can think straight long enough to do that, then maybe I can go home and watch Tron on Clu. (Finally!)

Oh yeah, BTW, who bought the Victoria's Secret Very Sexy eau de parfum from my wishlist ... and then kept it for themselves?!! (The drawback of that list: things disappear from it if someone is inspired to buy it for themselves while looking at your list.)