and...relax
Done.
Dusted.
Gave my talk this afternoon. Some people came... about 8 I think. Mebbe 10. Mainly my labmates, so a friendly crowd. A couple of others, a postdoc, a visiting researcher and the Prof what convenes the talks. Although he was late. Hahaha.
Seemed to go ok. I thought I was talking abject nonsense, but am assured I was making great sense. Fb came up to me and said "well done, you're a great speaker", which was nice. I got my mac working to great effect. Had my notes on my screen, the slides on the biggun. Excellent. The kids at the summer school ain't gonna know what's hit 'em.
Perfectly timed as well.
Success or not. It's done. Phew.
Off to get ratted now, I think.
At last...
I knew it, I knew it was evil.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/4626517.stm
Have it, have it you crazy frog f*cker. HAHAHAHA.
Seriously... what?
So, the Fugees, I hear, are gearing up to release a new album.
This'll be their first in ten years.
Read that again.
Say it slowly.
Their last album was TEN-YEARS-AGO.
What the rubbery fuck is that all about? TEN YEARS?
Strumming my pain with his whatever, singing my life with his stuff... TEN YEARS AGO?
No way.
I do not permit it. It is not permitted.
There.
More coffee please.
The left Apple key came off my powerbook last night. That's quite annoying. Trawling through the Apple.com help site last night, trying to find the "yes, we'll send you a keycap" section. Couldn't. Frustratingly found loads of instructions for putting a key back on. But I need a new one. Gah.
That talk I've been meant to give for the last FOREVER? It's coming up tomorrow. I've kind of lost interest in it. Sigh. Also means that I have to get up reasonablyt early tomorrow also. Dammit. I just want to curl up in bed and stay there.
In positive news, I've been invited to a Wedding. My mate Andy-from-Durham is marrying his girlf. Caroline. Coming up in just over a month. Intriguingly, there's no "and guest" option... guess I'll have to find me some company when I get there.
Started listening to radio again. Hooray.
Mum, Dad... I'm a Sith.
Hmmm...
Well, that's another one to tell my mum, I guess.
In other news, if I may resort to an Americanism for a moment:
THIS TOTALLY BITES.
*sigh*
What on Earth is the point of making great new friends if they go and graduate and naff off home. Hmph.
Ah well. As
Kathryn said, I guess it's just so that next time we go out drinking together, they have more interesting stories to tell.
What I should absolutely NOT be doing now is drinking cider. Foolish, foolish youth. And what IS it with me and cider recently? I never liked it before. I never got so drunk I couldn't walk onm it when I was 16. Hmm.
Went swimming in the sea yesterday, though. That was fantastic. FAN. TAS. TIC.
Marianne Faithfull... what's going on there?
Hmm.
Happy Birthday
Jess , by the way, I raise a glass of Strongbow in your honour.
God my room's a mess.
Et super te.
Raining today. Shame.
Went to a graduation ceremony this morning. Not my own, obviously. Went to see a mate of mine to the graduating thing. They do it well here, lots of pleasing academic pomp. They have some ceremonial maces that get clamped into the sides of the Chancellor's throne. An old cap that they touch the graduands with. Latin that they intone.
My graduation, although great, was lacking in the mystery part. There was a procession and everything, and our degrees were conferred on us, but all at once. Got a handshake of Peter Ustinov, though, who remains one of the most inspirational men the world had on offer. Mind you, I did get to graduate in Durham Cathedral the second time around, that was pretty special.
The mystery is important, somehow, I think. Actually being inducted into some other group. Rite of passage etc. The world of Academia should be seperate from other worlds. Not because academics are in any way priveleged, but the academics are specialists. We move in rarified fields. We don't do normal, not really. I mean, what we do is think about stuff. Work stuff out so that others don't have to. Ah, I realise I am sounding like a bit of a tosser. Let me fix this: I don't think that *only* academics deserve cermonial bruhaha. All fields are specialist. I ain't no lawyer... poor example, they have their fair share of pomp.
I suppose I mean that more professions should have rites of passage associated with them. There should be indoctrinations into the mysteries of recruitment consultancy, robes of office for accountants, a ceremonial mace for estate agents. Why the hell not?
Bring back the mystery, that's what I say.
Off to the graduation ball this evening. At some point. That is if my date gets in touch and tells me where to meet her. Hmm. Apparently my DJ's ready to pick up... I think I'll go get it.
Get a sarnie too, while I'm about it.
Extra cold
Just ran a participant who wouldn't stop LAUGHING. Seriously. I had to leave her alone in the photo room to record her own voice, so chronic were her giggles. Entertainingly, she'll be working with us in the lab next year as a project student. Sounds as if I'm doing the stuff closest to what she wants to be doing, so I guess she'll be mine. Yey. I can hardly wait.
Beer. Beer soon. And in quantity.
That's what you get for having an appropriate amount of sleep...
... beer thirst.
Decaffeinated.
I cannot believe I'm in before 9. Albeit only by 10 minutes or so, but still. Man, am I tired.
All the graduands are graduating. Makes me feel all nostalgic. I cried a bit at my graduation. Well, I didn't actually *cry*, but when the Chancellor confirred our degrees on us formally (using advanced academic magic) I definitely welled up a little. Bless.
Suitmonkeys are coming at 9.30. Seriously, who wants a meeting at 9.30? How long do you have to work with academics before you realise that's not a good plan? 9.30? Not one of us will be capable of making any sense. Goddamn suitmonkeys.
I. Need. Coffee.
And sleep. To be honest, I need sleep more than I need coffee, biologically speaking. Maybe I'll crawl under my desk and catch some z's. That'd be good.
"And here's our new researcher... er... under his desk"
"zzzzzz"
9.00 and all's nuts.
Early Bird.
Seem to be the first bunny to get to work today. How unusual. There was me thinking everyone would be in already and panicking about the meeting we're having at 10 about the meeting tomorrow with the Suitmonkeys.
***
Lengthy pause there while I ran a Gabor Wavelet analysis on some skin patches. Oh yes, and before 10 in the morning as well. Oh the heady delights of my productivity.
The secretary has manifested... as yet no supervisor, no labmate. Hmm.
My mouth tastes disgusting.
These facts are in no way related.
At least, I sincerely hope they're not.
I hope they're not intending me to go through my presentation in a meaningful way today. Hmm.
Stocktaking
Reinstalled in sunny Scotland, after a fairly crappy journey North. The power cab in the train went totally verschnicket or something and not even the magic of the engineers boarding at Engineerville could help. w00t let's withdraw the train at Edinburgh, yes let's. That'll be fun. Extra 2 hrs added to journey.
Anyway, a vvery enjoyable evening catching up with a chum I ain't seen for woo-hmmm... 3 years? 2 years probably. Anyway, he went of to China 5 years ago. FIVE YEARS. For fuck's sake.
Anyway, we got a bit drunk. Hoorah. He headbutted his pint and spilt beer all over my phone which is now utterly knackered rather than just being slightly knackered like it was before. Been lugging around a mate's old motorolla, from the dark days of mobiles. It's the size of a brick and hideously complex to use.
Beeps like a motherfucker too.
I seriously need to pare down my accessories. Going to purge my life of extranenous crap, I think. I want to get to the stage when all I carry around is a laptop and an ipod.
Or something like that.
Back to work tomorrow. Back to it.
The suits are coming on wednesday, I have to show them what I've been up to. Got a presentation together and ting.
Feels as if I've been away from this place for much longer than a week.
Taking a bow...
Blimey, it's hot today. Roasting. I am sweating like a big sweaty postgraduate psychologist. Which is approptiate enough, I suppose.
Quick post, then disconnecting computer in readiness for heading back up to Scotland. Been a crazy, crazy week. Big thanks to all involved for support etc, that goes for all who read this blog and those who don't. Thanks Jess for nice comments etc, good to have a pal in blogspace. Ta Big Chris for being big and great. Thanks Kathryn for being on hand on messenger. Thanks to CC48 also for well timed texts.
And of course, a great big thanks to that tall Irishman I know. You rock.
Beginning to feel a bit like an academy award speech this one. [sob] I'd just like thank [snf] my director (we did it!) [smf] and my fantastic writers [sob sob] and, of course, my parents for making it all possible in the first place [ironic wink].
Right. Onwards. Back to the academic grindstone.
Cheers
Strike 2
So. Job's a goodun.
Went round to see me dad this afternoon to show him this new laptop of mine and also (vaguely) to fill him in on the latest visavis me.
Made me really nervous. It was very odd. I mean, I knew he was going to react well, but there seemed to be no easy way to begin. "So, in other news, I do lads" seemed my only option, for a time. Then I started to think maybe I didn't need to tell him. I mean, this is about me. I remembered how I've never felt obliged to publicise my sex life and have never been encumbered by the spirit of frank confession that appears to characterise my generation (yesyes, I know, I have a blog, how ironic). So I was tempted to leave it. Then I remembered how crap it would be if my mum told one of their mutual friends and he found out from someone other than me.
Somewhat torn I was.
Then he started telling me how he's back in the game, as it were. His wife died fairly recently, which was very sad. He's living in the house by himself and building a hell of a social network to keep him busy. He tells me he's started dating again. More power to him, I say. So he's been out with various women recently. He was explaining how nothing's really happened, but he just likes going out with women anyway,
"I mean," he said, "who wants to go out with boys, eh?"
And that, reader, is what they call in the trade a 'feed line'. To good a one to pass up.
"Funny you should say that," I said, ever mindful of my viewing public, "I kind of do".
And on we went from there.
It's all good, he's pleased I told him, I'm pleased I told him. Etc etc.
In other news, my mother continues to be extremely stressed about moving. Did some shouting at me. But it's alrighty.
Oh oh, in a new twist, now it turns out that the Sandman comics turned me gay.
Who'd have thunk it?
Just testing something
So. Did I mention I bought a new computer? Well I did and it's great. My triumphant return to the world of Macs. w00t. That's what I say. Anyway, this is me testsing a blogging widget. I wonder if it works.
I, Londoner
Man am I tired.
Took my mate on a tour of London 'by night' yesterday evening. This city does well in the dark. Big river, bright lights, night owls drinking coffee, clubbers clubbing, pubs chucking out. Looking down the Thames from the Hungerford Bridge (or whatever that new bridge is called), the dome of St Paul's glowing softly just over there, the red oh-cross-oh opposite, lights on both banks reflecting in the water, the National Theatre blinking in the distance.
I think the city makes a great deal more sense from the water. You can see how it grew. Where the roads go. Stuff like that. I do like this city. I like being part of it, feeling part of it. London is nothing without the people in it; more than any other city I've been in, it's built to get people from one place to another. The places you go through, the various locales, quarters, sub-quarters all, essentially, waypoints en route to somewhere else in itself a waypoint. London as meta-journey. We travel for the sake of travelling. Someone has to use the busses. The tube needs passengers to survive. The roads exist only to be walked. London, ultra memeplex, requires that her children travel. So we travel. Who are we to argue? We have no more choice in the matter than blood cells.
That's why I like it. Step into the stream. Float like a corpuscle. Let the beat push you.
And if the penalty is always feeling alien everywhere else you go... so be it. At least city folk know how to cross a road properly.
SURPRISE!
So. Here I am at home. My mum's tidying up the kitchen, there's an electrician doing... something to the lights upstairs. Bags everywhere. My room's in chaos. The whole house is in chaos.
Moving, you see. My mum is. Moving out of this house, I mean. Next week is moving day, so it's all a bit hectic. I can only be here for this week, really, before I have to leg it back up north and present academic flimdoo to my corporate sponsors. Great.
My mum's having all sorts of nervous breakdowns at the moment. Convinced nothing'll be ready or done or anything. Although she's calmed down a bit since we got the parking permits and the mail forwarding things sorted out. We did that today. She was deeply stressed in fairly predictable ways when I got here. Moving house and all.
More stressful than divorce, they tell me. And she's done a couple of those.
So, my mission statement was to be as helpful as possible, I guess. You know, take the strain, provide support. Be helpful.
Don't do anything stressful.
Like, say, come out.
Yes, an excellent plan all told. Wait until your mother's REALLY stressed out, THEN tell her you're kind of in to boys, actually. Great. Nice one.
Although, at the same time, it seemed a strangely appropriate time. Selling the house I've lived in since I was 2. End of one chapter and all that. Glad I did it. Had to eventually, I suppose and, as A said, she would have reacted in much the same way whenever I did it.
How did she react? ... all-right, I guess. She cried a lot. Got a bit cross. Taken it a bit... personally. She's feeling the loss of grandchildren rather keenly. Coincidence with the chucking of an awful lot of my childhood baggage not helping. "I was going to keep these for your children," she says, "doesn't seem much point now, does there?" Stuff like that.
She's coming round. Initially she actually refused to believe me, which is weird, because she's been asking me if I'm into girls for years. To be honest, I was expecting less surprise. "You don't SEEM gay to me" she said. She thinks if I had sex with more girls I'd change. Something about "habituating" myself to lads.
Yadda yadda.
Ultimately, she'll be fine. She still bought me slippers today. Just some adjusting to do.
In other news, I bought this swanky new machine yesterday. Am now proud owner of a Powerbook. 15" screen. Brushed aluminium casing. Oooooo. I like it.
Should tell my dad next, really. I imagine that'll be easier. For him, I mean. This ain't hard for me. I'm sorry she's upset. What can I do? She'll be fine once the move is over. I hope.
Hmm.
Probably more to come on this issue, at a guess. Better crack on with doing useful house packing things.
Laters.
No one's here except me and the research assistant.
Morning All.
Sorry, it's been a while. Again, it's not as if I've been doing anything ESPECIALLY exciting... been working my buns off the past week. I'm going home to London tomorrow, so my supervisor's been crawling all over my intellect, compelling me to do "a year's worth of work in 2 days" (yes, he said that) for the Industrial Sponsor-dudes who are coming to see what shakes in a fortnight or so. Woo.
Also been putting that talk that keeps surfacing together. Was kind of ready to go yesterday... getting bits and bobs changed, finishing touches to slides etc. Thinking "you know, this could be ok" when the fire alarm goes off. Turns out someone called in a bomb threat.
Seriously. A bomb threat.
And no, it wasn't me.
So we evacuated the department. Didn't look as if anyone warned Theology over the way. Ah well. Sat in a coffee shop over the road with labmates and supervisor and watched the fire engines come and go. Bomb squad and everything. During this time I entirely loose my motivation and desire to give a talk on the effects of social condition on pheromone detection, which everyone tells me is fair enough.
Entertainingly, the building is given the all clear 5 minutes before the talk is due to begin. The convener seems to be intent on carrying on as normal. In a small amount of panic, I had to get my supervisor to say "no, no, he doesn't have to". So ha. Another 2 weeks. Guess it had better be something fairly special though.
Oh, it will be.
Have begun my life-streamlining by getting rid of an awful lot of hair. Never had my head clippered before. I quite like it. Certainly means I get out of the house earlier in the mornings.
Some drama last night. In pub with various. Labmate Mike got a leetle drunk, as did we all... was feeling argumentative. Made someone else cry then went home. Blimey. Nearly lost my rag with him... had to remember to breathe.
Guess I'd better crack on with these faces, really. Sigh.
Matlab, ho!
Culiferdontofoscofoliopolydesteropouf
Hmm.
I totally have to write a presentation for Thursday. I've been putting it off for ages... it's been rescheduled twice. This time, however, I feel there's no escape. Thursday at 1.30 , I'll be standing in front of my department, explaining myself and my work to date. Sort of. Scary stuff.
Well... part of me's looking forward to it. I suppose I'm scared I'll be unmasked as a total academic fraud, or something. It's a fear that I think's going to follow me around throughout my career. At least until they actually give me a doctorate. It keeps catching me by surprise to find out I'm actually reasonably good at what I do.
Reasonably.
Been nursing a hangover all day. Lurvly. Watched the Incredibles though, which is fantastic.
Hmm, and then found loads of tshirts I wanted, and am now considering the sagacity or otherwise of spending just over £100 on new shirts. I suppose if I throw away my old ones, I'll have to.
Yes, am planning a life overhaul. Well... not really my LIFE per se. More my accessories. The clutter I have generated over the years. The shite I drag around. I have a feeling this is still a hangover from the great journal bonfire of a few months ago. Also probably linked to my mum selling the house and moving on. Gonna go home in a week or so with a mate and pack up / chuck out my old stuff. Purchase a Powerbook. Streamline my life.
About time.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Larkin about
Morning everyone.
So begins my first full day of being 26.
Party last night was fun. Barbecue. Drinking. A small amount of dancing. More drinking. Ah yes. At one point the entire party decamped to my bedroom, which was strange.
The postgrads came too, which was cool. And I have to go to another postg housewarming this evening. Yey. My supervisor decided ultimately NOT to attend, which was something of a relief. Particularly since he's spent the last 2 days WATCHING me do stats over my shoulder. I mean. Really.
Got a fantastic email from my school yesterday:
I have checked your file and you have not submitted any work. I know you are exempt from certain modules. I have no research proposal, poster session or ethics proposal.
How well observed. Go them.
Well, I'm 26. How crazy. Not sure I care for proximity to 30, but I'm gonna try and make it work.
First off, a sausage sandwich, I think. Thence to town, shopping. Not going to do anything constructive today.
Thanks to Michael S for this:
On Being Twenty-six
I feared these present years,
The middle twenties,
When deftness disappears,
And each event is
Freighted with a source-encrusting doubt,
And turned to drought.
I thought: this pristine drive
Is sure to flag
At twenty-four or -five;
And now the slag
Of burnt-out childhood proves that I was right.
What caught alight
Quickly consumed in me,
As I foresaw.
Talent, felicity —
These things withdraw,
And are succeeded by a dingier crop
That come to stop;
Or else, certainly gone,
Perhaps the rest,
Tarnishing, linger on
As second-best.
Fabric of fallen minarets is trash.
And in the ash
Of what has pleased and passed
Is now no more
Than struts of greed, a last
Charred smile, a clawed
Crustacean hatred, blackened pride – of such
I once made much.
And so, if I were sure
I have no chance
To catch again that pure
Unnoticed stance,
I would calcine the outworn properties,
Live on what is.
But it dies hard, that world;
Or, being dead,
Putrescently is pearled,
For I, misled,
Make on my mind the deepest wound of all:
Think to recall
At any moment, states
Long since dispersed;
That if chance dissipates
The best, the worst
May scatter equally upon a touch.
I kiss, I clutch,
Like a daft mother, putrid
Infancy,
That can and will forbid
All grist to me
Except devaluing dichotomies:
Nothing, and paradise.
– Philip Larkin
