As I prepare for my final final presentation of my first semester of grad school, it was brought to my attention that I never posted (as I'd intended to with my very first entry!) the origins of the title of this Blahg.
So here, now...
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Acclimating
When I first arrived here in August, 80F was the new 100F. Then 60 became the new 80, and 40 the new 60, and suddenly 20 is the new 40. My first inkling that I have become acclimated came a few nights ago as I walked from the train to the grocery store to my home, all without a coat on, but my suspicions were confirmed just now when I felt genuinely surprised by the fact that we're just now hitting 20 today and I didn't shiver once walking home from the train.
WGSE
And because I'm the WGSE (worst grad student ever) I thought I had a presentation and a summary paper due at 9am. Turns out it's a paper and a summary presentation.
Will wine or coffee better get me through a ten page paper and the rest of this Power Point project?
Let's start with wine.
Note to self: You have done more than this in less time than this. Remember that philosophy final back in '01? Yeah, that.
Will wine or coffee better get me through a ten page paper and the rest of this Power Point project?
Let's start with wine.
Note to self: You have done more than this in less time than this. Remember that philosophy final back in '01? Yeah, that.
Blue Line Street Magicians
My train was stopped for about ten minutes tonight between Clark/Lake and Grand on my way home and it was fantastic! A street magician in the Monroe station asked what I was carrying and I told him a little about the Monopticon (pictured below) and he tried it on with only slight hesitation. He seemed pretty into it. Then he did a magic trick and I suddenly had two red balls in the hand where I had only one to start with and I went, "*GASP!* What?!" and fished for money. None. He was okay with that. We'd traded interesting visual experiences.
So then we got on the train and I was excited the guy and his co-magician get on the same car as me so I could watch some more tricks happen to/with/for other people, but they were just sitting and chatting, not doing anything UNTIL! the train stops! where it isn't supposed to! and the lights go out! and then they come back on! And then the magic begins.
They were mainly focused on two different guys a short way down from me and I quickly figured out the trick from back at the station. Perspective is an amazing thing. At some point in our delay the younger of the two magicians who seemed like The Card Guy (as opposed to The Red Balls Guy) came my way and introduced himself (the tricks would naturally follow) but then he saw the Monopticon and remembered me from the station. He asked what it was called and what it was and suddenly the whole car was listening and so I taught a handful of people about my Monopticon and what it's good for. The Red Balls Guy renamed it A Matter of Perception. The Card Guy declined my offer to try it on (if my chosen field was of sleight of hand, I would also be wary of ever taking my eyes off a person, let alone allowing them to blindfold me with mirrors) and then asked, "You go to the Art Institute, huh?" I told him yes and he nodded knowingly and went back to impress the young guy some more. Art Institute kids apparently don't need card tricks.
The train started up and I fished around some more and found a lone dollar crumpled in my backpack. As we pulled up to my stop I handed it to The Red Balls Guy and he asked again what that thing was called. "The Monopticon," I said, "...or A Matter of Perspective." He smiled and replied, "Yeah, we know about perspective."
Yeah, we do.
So then we got on the train and I was excited the guy and his co-magician get on the same car as me so I could watch some more tricks happen to/with/for other people, but they were just sitting and chatting, not doing anything UNTIL! the train stops! where it isn't supposed to! and the lights go out! and then they come back on! And then the magic begins.
They were mainly focused on two different guys a short way down from me and I quickly figured out the trick from back at the station. Perspective is an amazing thing. At some point in our delay the younger of the two magicians who seemed like The Card Guy (as opposed to The Red Balls Guy) came my way and introduced himself (the tricks would naturally follow) but then he saw the Monopticon and remembered me from the station. He asked what it was called and what it was and suddenly the whole car was listening and so I taught a handful of people about my Monopticon and what it's good for. The Red Balls Guy renamed it A Matter of Perception. The Card Guy declined my offer to try it on (if my chosen field was of sleight of hand, I would also be wary of ever taking my eyes off a person, let alone allowing them to blindfold me with mirrors) and then asked, "You go to the Art Institute, huh?" I told him yes and he nodded knowingly and went back to impress the young guy some more. Art Institute kids apparently don't need card tricks.
The train started up and I fished around some more and found a lone dollar crumpled in my backpack. As we pulled up to my stop I handed it to The Red Balls Guy and he asked again what that thing was called. "The Monopticon," I said, "...or A Matter of Perspective." He smiled and replied, "Yeah, we know about perspective."
Yeah, we do.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Avoidance
I've learned a lot about Communism since school started. I spent the weekend not doing obscene amounts of reading and not writing a large paper on the 10 points of the Communist Manifesto. I spent all of today getting about a page into it. And I spent all of this evening watching trailers for Where the Wild Things Are and planning a costume to wear to the Wild Rumpus on Friday.
All of which is the long way of saying it's going to be a very late night but by morning time, likely as I watch the sun rise, I will be two things: a fake red head and a real grad student.
All of which is the long way of saying it's going to be a very late night but by morning time, likely as I watch the sun rise, I will be two things: a fake red head and a real grad student.
Exploitation
On my lunch break I was sitting at a table on the twelfth floor, which offers an expansive view of what is today an incredibly dreary lake front. I was eating my crudites ("raw veggies" isn't fancy enough for this school cafeteria) and apparently staring at nothing with noticeable intensity, because a young man- an undergrad by the look of him- stopped and asked me what I was thinking about so hard. My response:
"Honestly? I'm contemplating the likelihood that my every bite contributes to the exploitation of the kitchen worker who chopped this celery, as well as the farm worker who planted and harvested this celery. I'm trying to figure out when it is and isn't okay to eat vegetables of unknown provenance that have been cut up by somebody else."
He nodded like he really understood. Maybe he's taken this class, but that would make him a grad student, so I guess my point is don't judge a book by it's cover.
"Honestly? I'm contemplating the likelihood that my every bite contributes to the exploitation of the kitchen worker who chopped this celery, as well as the farm worker who planted and harvested this celery. I'm trying to figure out when it is and isn't okay to eat vegetables of unknown provenance that have been cut up by somebody else."
He nodded like he really understood. Maybe he's taken this class, but that would make him a grad student, so I guess my point is don't judge a book by it's cover.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
I'm not here to make friends
That is what the first week of grad school felt like. Or maybe I'm just needy. And grad students have a lot to do, including, in many cases, getting home every day to take care of their kids, so it's nobody's fault. I am here to make friends. I'm working on it.
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