June 7th,
2010
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02:20 pm |
Never Never Land
Never's Journal: Soft on the outside, chewy in the middle. 3 parts Introspective Wibbling, 2 parts Intellectual Yammering, 2 parts What I Did Today, 1 part Strawberry Cream Filling. Sweet and dark by turns.
Enjoy.
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February 26th,
2006
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04:16 pm |
Hey Kids :)
Just wanted to let you know I started up a blog at http://frozenfoxtale.livejournal.com.
It's mostly to keep in touch with my family over the Winter, but I'm going to try and post once or twice a weekish and there will be lots of pictures, so if you want to read about my Antarctic adventures, feel free.
I'm not sure which of you here has LJs anymore - but if you have one and want to friend me over there, I'll friend you back.
Hope you're all warm and well.
<3
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February 1st,
2006
| Winter Wonderland |
06:52 pm |
Well, it's official! I'm Wintering. I signed a contract last week to be the General Assistant at the Heavy Shop through the end of August.
I'm pretty excited, it's going to be a great job and an awesome experience. However, this means I probably won't be back in the States until Spring or Summer of '07 - I'm planning to put my return airfare credit toward a Round-the-World ticket and spend nine months to a year traveling once I get off the Ice. Hopefully I'll be able to see some of you in non-Boulder locales during that time. (Especially those of you that, y'know, don't live in Boulder anyway.) But I'm going to miss you all regardless and hope you'll keep in touch.
I'll be checking my e-mail semi-regularly during the Winter, since we won't be able to receive or send any paper mail once planes stop coming in. If anyone is still planning to send me anything, it'll need to be in Christchurch before February 25th in order to make it down. Address it to:
Rebecca Crane - WINTEROVER
McMurdo Station
PSC 469 Box 700
APO AP 96599-1035
and they'll make a point of getting it on the last mail plane.
Thankyou thankyou thankyou to everyone who's sent cards, letters and e-mails. They totally make my day.
Hope you're all well and warm.
Here's some seals (and me with a funny look on my face):
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January 1st,
2006
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08:38 pm |
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October 4th,
2005
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02:05 am |
Bye kids!
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September 29th,
2005
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09:37 am |
Me while making tea a minute ago: Mrrrglfrjsngd... I've been awake since 9:00 yesterday morning. In the last 48 hours, I've had less than four hours of sleep and consumed the equivalent of about two meals total, but I have ingested more alcohol, caffeine, nicotene and amphetamines than I do in an average week, scrambled, walked, climbed and tumbled all over town and back, and now I have to keep myself awake for at least another five hours. All for a good cause and worth it, I'm not complaining. In fact, I'm reveling (when I can keep my eyes open.) But it's obviously taken a toll on me physically and ... basically, damn I could use a massage. Haha, yeah. Anyway.
The Internet: Also, today is the Holistic Health and Wellness Fair in UMC 235 from 11am to 2pm. There will be free massages and acupuncture on site, plus Student Wellness is giving away gift certificates for more professional acupuncture and massages for you to use later on.
*blink* What? Reality takes such consumately good care of me sometimes it verges on being just plain silly. I mean, seriously. "By the way, Today is Free Massage Day!"? What the fuck? I don't know what I do to get this kind of shit happening all the time, but ... wow. It's days like this that I almost wish I believed some kind of Creator spirit just so I'd have someone to be grateful to for all the overwhelming and seemingly random goodness.
Anyway. Indescribable night. Well, okay, not entirely indescribable, but the kind to be (smudgingly) described in paper journalspace, because it was the kind of good that I want to keep just for me. Now work (tying up loose ends), lunch with Everett, nap, and Wicked. Sweet.
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September 27th,
2005
| Best Reason Evar to use this Icon |
02:34 pm |
Well, it's official. I just finished coding my verylast file. Holey Shnikeys, I can't believe I actually did that. I mean... I can't usually admit this about myself, but that is a pretty significant accomplishment. I just did the math, and it works out to my having written around 150 pages of new text and coded over eighty hours (which comes out to more than 1500 pages) of interviews. Damn, that's a lot of dead trees. Poor trees.
In conclusion, I think alcohol is very much in order. This seems like the night for that one last trip to our ever sketchy Sundowner.
Oh man, oh man oh man. Such a good feeling. Rah.
Edit: *laughs!* I just heard my totally wholesome fifty-something Quaker boss shout from across the hall, "Oh SHIT! ... Er, I mean, um, darn." Cute.
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September 21st,
2005
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02:57 pm |
So ... Hm.
I think the imminence of the leavingness just hit me full force. Seriously? Less than two weeks.
I got an e-mail from Josh today. I like Josh.
It's overwhelming to realize that I can't begin to fathom the fundamental motivations of anyone I love, nor have I even come close to understanding myself.
Thirteen days, one hour, and twenty-two minutes.
I'm so tired.
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September 17th,
2005
| Always Being Betrayed by the Moon |
01:41 pm |
Oh. Huh. Apparently it wasn't Joyceanism that was exhausting me, it was being made out of sugar and spice. Urgh. Pardon me while I go curl up in a ball of spiteful irony and die. Moan. Shiver. Whine.
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September 16th,
2005
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05:13 pm |
Joycean Being is exhausting. Inspiring and stimulating, yes, but fucking exhausting. Deeper down the rabbit hole.
On a completely unrelated (haha) note:
CRACADME% - Rebecca describes what is positive about a career in academia: Never having to be a manager or employer. I'm so uncomfortable with the idea of being in any position of authority wherein I'd be empowered and expected to "discipline" other human beings, especially adult human beings. Such positions include but are not limited to the role of manager, parent, and teacher employed at anything preceeding the college level. The thought of having people work for me weirds me out. Even having Dustin doing data entry for me at work weirds me out. I'm not really sure why. Probably part of it is that it seems like an overwhelming amount of responsibility that I can't imagine ever deserving or being able to carry effectively. Part of it is that I'm, like, obsessed with people being able to trust me, and I don't imagine it'd be possible to ever entirely, genuinely trust someone part of whose actual job description was to pass judgement on you, regardless of how much you might like them otherwise.
Basically what it comes down to is that I want a work environment wherein I have colleagues and collaborators rather than employers and/or employees. Yet another criterion to keep in mind, in addition to the "intellectually, creatively, and ethically challenging/fulfilling" thing. The problem here is that the more I think about this, the more I'm setting myself up to be discontent with any "career" outside of, basically, academia or art. I'm not an "artist" and academic jobs are v. hard to come by. And then there's that "soul selling" issue.
On the other hand, I could always make a career as a dishwasher in Antarctica.
Speaking of which, I am really looking forward to the fact that there are no flies down there. Goddamn flies. Everywhere.
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September 15th,
2005
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07:13 pm |
Why do I love Big Dead Place? Because of shit like this:
Alcohol in Antarctica
Alcohol is known for its antifreeze properties. Add some to your washer fluid and you can drive across Montana in winter without fear. This is the property mainly used by winterovers to justify their intake. Other alcohol properties, like 'facilitating socialization', are just bullshit; who would want to socialize with a bunch of people insane enough to spend a winter cut-off from the world anyway?
Boondoggles
You might be surprised to find that you are not the only person willing to be flown into the stark wilderness to test your mettle against whatever nature throws your way. Your sincerity and enthusiasm are appreciated, but try to remember that for all the familiar shock of institutional carpeting, pickup trucks, and plentiful loveseats, almost every person you meet would not blink an eye at being sent into the middle of nowhere at a moment's notice. But that doesn't happen every day. Especially if you work in the Galley. If you go on one of these trips, or are one of the scientists attending one of these field camps in their very brief existence, many people would like to hear about your experiences, but none of them think you are particularly tough. Save that routine for when you return to the States, or for when you talk to any of the NSF-sponsored journalists from the big media. They eat that shit up.
If You Almost Die or Something
If you almost die or something, either at a field camp or by industrial havoc in town, people will be quite fascinated. Restrictions on 'complaining' or on 'acting all badass' may be safely discarded, within reason.
The Winter Psych Eval
Though taking the Winter Psyche Eval is an inevitable condition of your employment and, as such, may invoke pre-test jitters, we have shown that those jitters should stem only from the consequences of failure rather than the legitimacy of the evaluation itself. The eval is a sham, and if you pass the test you will go on to inhabit a remote polar base with such a motley ensemble of control freaks and psychopaths that you will wonder why anyone even bothers with evaluations in the first place.
Frequent Flier Miles
You may believe that you are only going to Antarctica for one season. Though that may be true, it is not. Antarctica will pierce you in the heart, and even if you don't come back, you will think about it off and on, probably for the rest of your life. North America to New Zealand is one hell of a long round-trip, so do yourself a favor and start a frequent-flier account so that when you do come back, you will accumulate free airline tickets.
I don't need to write a book. Somebody already wrote it.
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| Just One of Those Days |
01:01 pm |
I don't know why, but I feel amazing today. So good. Like raw power crackling from my fingertips good. Like I'm totally in my element. Like I'm brave and strong and fucking sexy. Like I could do anything. It's like having super powers and knowing about it. It's like ... what's that stuff they drink in Harry Potter? The sparkly stuff that makes you supernaturally lucky and nothing in the world can go wrong? I feel like that.
Yes.
For those who haven't seen it: Kurt Vonnegut's Daily Show interview is linked off that page. It's pretty cute. Vonnegut's kinda like awesome.
So, do the people who run Buchannan's only own three CDs or what?
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September 14th,
2005
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11:15 am |
I've basically done a month's worth of work in the past week. Which is frustrating, of course, because it means I'm left with this, "If I have the capacity to get work done at this unprecedentedly ridiculous rate, why didn't I do it in July so that I could've been done by now?" feeling. Regardless, I may actually meet my deadline, which would be shocking and awesome. I've told my boss that the 23rd is going to be my last official day.
So anyway, ( I need a plan. )
Of course, this all means coordinating one zillion peoples' schedules. Wackiness.
And, of course, I probably have to make it to the Downer one last time. ;P
Oh, I just noticed I've actually got fewer files to complete than I thought. If I really concentrate, I could be done this week. Of course, at this point it depends less on how fast I can get stuff done and more on how fast they can get stuff to me to do. Still, that'd be sweet.
Okay, back to work.
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September 12th,
2005
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10:12 am |
I wish they'd send me my deploy date already. I'm getting anxious. Arrrgrhgrrrhgh.
I'm reading Dostoevsky's The Idiot, and the copy I've got uses the old spelling of "connection", that is to say:
connexion. I love that spelling. It's so much better a way to spell it. It doesn't make as much etymological sense as the modern version, but I think the crossties of an 'x' are more suited to the spirit of the word, visually and poetically speaking, and it makes me smile.
My favorite word: Delight
Followed closely by: Trouble
What's yours?
Yeah, I'm a nerd, whatever. Work now.
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September 6th,
2005
| Regarding Disbelief |
04:27 pm |
Re: conclusion of the last post - I want to try and develop this in a more clearly outlined format.
The idea is basically to deconstruct the notion of "sex" by illustrating that "sex" is a constructed category with certain political functions (i.e. ... ), but that it doesn't operate as any kind of possible object of experience, because the word "sex" doesn't actually refer to any real act (i.e. ... ). Which isn't particularly interesting; that's sort of postmodern common sense. What's interesting is that people still do experience themselves (ourselves) as "having sex", so I want to explore and cash out what that experience means, and what it entails and implies - psychologically, socially, physically(?) - given that sex qua action isn't actually something that one can have.
Should be working, so not going into essay-scribbling mode right now. But please engage me in discussion/debate if it's a topic you're interested in, because it will help me organize my as-of-yet inchoate thoughts.
(For the record, this isn't what the last post was about. It wasn't intended to convey anything nearly so analytic. This is just a spinoff, with hope to incorporate various conversations I've had and ideas I've been playing with for ... well, ever. :P)
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03:18 pm |
As an aside: Dear starrrrrrrs, I want sex so badly it's like an ache in the cores of my bones. It's irrelevant whether I mean "SEX" in the generic abstract or as some intricate and thrilling particular that unsubtle minds stuff under that conceptual umbrella. What matters is that today is the first day that feels like Fall. The eroticism of each season has a distinctly different flavor, and there's a rush in the realization that it's been an entire year since kissing felt like this.
Sex in the middle of October is fundamentally different from sex at the end of May - and right now, it's being sixteen years old, classes having started just long enough ago that the newness only rubbed off last week, and you're outside, ditching class, hidden alcove, pressed up against the nobbly schoolbuilding wall. Learning secrets about the consistency of lips and tongues. Colored leaves crunch damply under quivering knees that will no longer support your weight. Cheeks flush with exultant awe against air crisp and scented, spiced, like pumpkin pie. Breeze rushing across one vulnerable shoulder, bared by the stretching of your collar to admit wet kisses that focus the ... entire ... universe ... for tenseconds on the hollow of your throat - like yellow hi-lighter swiftly drying on pages of the forgotten Chemistry book at your feet. (Your mom will scold you later about ruining all your t-shirts.)
One of the greatest disservices Puritanism ever did modernWesternhumankind was the invention of sex. The word "sex" is a curse, a conceptual epithet meant to imply a sort of necessary violence in what, unnamed, can instead be the most innocent possible acts of worship and play. It's Fall. Tap into what that feels like. Stop believing in "sex" for a moment and go make out with someone behind the bleachers. Please. For me.
('Cause I'm stuck here at work, and that's much less fun.)
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August 31st,
2005
| On the Killing of Time |
03:13 pm |
Oh dear. People born in 1987 are legally adults. Nineteen eighty-seven. I can't get behind that.
I can, however, get behind the following things: Terry Gilliam movies, even badly produced ones. Sleepovers. The Joycean nature of everything. Unusually spicy cha'i. People I love being excited to see me. Smoked salmon hash with sourdough toast and poached eggs. The unexpected. Russian literature. Double entendres. Today being the last day of summer.
Two foxes crossed the road in front of me last night. One right after the other.
Here's something I love about Matthew: Learning to emulate kitsune, the Japanese trickster-spirit fox, is one of my life's goals. But Matthew thinks I am kitsune. And because it's in the nature of Mattliness that reality conform to his will, his belief in my kitsunehood makes me kitsune in fact. (On the other hand, it's possible that reality only conforms to his will quite as often as it does because I'm kitsune - in which case, it's my being kitsune which actually faciliates my being kitsune. *g*)
Meme:
Ask me for "top five" lists of pretty much anything, and I will list for you my top five of that thing or things. Copy and give your own top fives.
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August 29th,
2005
| But Not a Real Green Dress, That's Cruel |
05:05 pm |
Eh, it didn't go as well as I would have liked. And yes, I know. You take the test on a computer so you get your scores immediately.
I did really poorly on the Math section. I mean, I didn't even get to half the questions. But I'm not really bothered about that, because I understand why I did badly and how to realistically improve my score. I'm good with math conceptually; my issue has always been speed. Given enough time, I can work pretty much anything out, or at least anything that would be on the GRE. I was able to solve everything in the review book with very little trouble. But, especially because it's been about six years since I was doing math problems with any kind of regularity, I don't have the kind of quick recall I need to do well on a timed test. I need to get back into the habit of doing math on a regular basis, and focus on memorizing all the little rules and shortcuts that I've forgotten since tenth grade. If I choose to do that, I know my score will be dramatically higher.
It doesn't even matter, because even though I like Math, it's never been my strong point and so it doesn't feel like my Math score reflects anything terribly relevant about me. I'm just kind of like, "Well, whatever. I'll take it again." What I'm actually disappointed in myself over is my Verbal score. Which is stupid, because I broke 700. But you have to realize that I got a perfect score on the Verbal section of the SAT - so as far as I'm concerned now, anything less than perfect isn't good enough. According to my residual-overachiever consciousness, I should be able to get at least 750 without even thinking about it, and the fact that I studied at all ought to have guaranteed me an even higher score. So now I'm feeling all self-doubtful and shit.
Which, again, is stupid. Because, first of all, it's just a bullshit ETS Standardized Test, and yes, we all know they don't test anything but your ability to take the test. (But I've always been really good at standardized testing! I mean, it's like the most ridiculous, useless talent a person can possibly have, but it was my talent, dammit! :P) And second and more importantly, the reason I didn't get as much studying done as I could have last night was that one of the discussions I had over the weekend inspired like this ten page treatise on gender socialization and conversational ethics, and I got so interested and wrapped up in writing it that I just ceased to care about the idiotic GRE.
Which, in the broader scheme of things, seems to illustrate something good. That when it comes down to it, I'm more passionate and concerned about my actual work and doing something meaningful than I am about trying to shore up my ego by proving something to myself - because that's effectively the only reason I had for worrying about my GRE score. None of the schools I'm applying to want it, and by the time I'm applying to schools who do require it, I'll have a Master's Thesis to give them which, I'd like to hope, will have significantly more impact on whether they want me in their program than some arbitrary number from ETS will.
And it's good because now I can stop thinking about it and focus that time and energy on other things work, travel, human interaction, and grad school related.
But insofar as I'm residually neurotic, I'm still down on myself at the moment. :P
So I'm going to cheer up by way of emotional/intellectual junkfood by which I mean filling out a silly survey that Brandi sent me. And then I'm going to do my job, keep working on that thing I'm writing, do my job, keep working on.... Really, I have no idea. But it definitely won't involve practicing quadratic equations.
( Survey )
Omfg. Brane. Everything is stupid. Right now, I want to go eat wild strawberries in the park and fingerpaint and not talk to anybody for a week.
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07:55 am |
Okay, I'm going to take the GRE now. Wish me luck.
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August 25th,
2005
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01:46 am |
Okay, okay, okay, picture this: Matthew Guzzo meets Andrew Vagelatos. Oh em eff gee.
Such a good day. Dear stars. I mean, first and foremost, I got to see Andrew!!! It's been more than a year! There are very few people in the universe who could inspire me to the use of multiple exclamation marks!! Andrew is one of my oldest friends and was officially designated My Favorite Person in the Whole World. I really don't think I understood until now just how much of my personal energy/heart/soul/being are permanently tied up in that kid. I totally didn't expect to see him before I left for Antarctica! And I think there's some small part of me that had honestly resigned itself to the thought that I actually might never see him again. Andrew! Andrew!!
And it turns out that August went to elementary school with Andrew's girlfriend. Heh. Boulder.
What else? Seeing Blank Slate at the Dark Horse. It makes me so happy and proud watching Ben's dreams come to fruition. Playing ERF with Matthew, Everett and Metz. ERF, seriously. Sitting at the bar with Stu, Stu at a bar, so weird. Hanging out with August, being all snuggly. He's so ridiculously cute it's just ... ridiculous. Getting to hang out with Metz a lot the past few days. I've missed him. The sweet silliness of watching Aug and Joanna play at flirting, and the excited spark in her eyes when she tells me she bouldered the Engineering building today. Discovering that the "girl with the coolest makeup and coolest piercings I've ever seen," who Matthew met actually turns out to be Lyda. Losing at least some portion of a purity point. (It's hard to resist practicing all manner of technique when you're being encouraged by such a willing and responsive volunteer...) Oh, and I particularly enjoyed the line, "OMFG. On the one hand, asceticism ... On the other hand ... Brittany." All the phone calls I made this afternoon. Having a brand new notebook to write in. The little paragraph of character study that I worked and reworked for twenty minutes in St. Mark's. It's a cool feeling to edit something to the point of practically being satisfied with it - even if it's only 100 words. St. Mark's itself and the resonance it's developing. Getting somewhere that seems significant with Sheila. Good music. A lot of other tiny little sunny things I already wrote about in a paper journal...
Mostly it was just seeing Andrew that put today way above the average day on the Awesomeness Richter Scale - and playing ERF was the one tiny thing necessary to rocket it straight into Top Five Percent of Awesome Days Ever status.
And now I'm worn out in that wonderful way that means I'm just going to drop straight into dreamland the moment my head hits the pillow. Stars fucking damn I'm so lucky to know the people I know. Once again, thanks friends, for existing. I mean... omfg.
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dorky
excited
isolated and quiet
hard done by my own body
busy
anxious
focused
bewildered
