Entries Tagged With 'Life and the Like'

I like to introduce this story to my friends with the phrase, "I was almost shot!" This usually gets their attention. I'll admit that it is almost a false pretense. Looks like you'll have to read on.

I was in Seattle with my friends Chris and Capi, we decided a pub crawl was the best way to cap off a round of interviews. A crawl that ended in the supposedly less-than-savoury neighbourhood of Beacon Hill at The Beacon.

The story doesn't end here, I did say 'almost shot.'

The last time that I can remember being hopelessly lost was absconding from the scene of a police-crashed bush party. That's another story from my youth though, this one takes place while hiking through the Valley of Fire in the Nevada desert.

This misbegotten adventure began when I met Lothar, a German photographer. He was raving about a relatively unknown arch, the Ephemeral Arch, found quite far off the beaten path. Intrigued I asked how to find it, naively assuming that he could point it out on the complementary park map that had the resolution of brown crayon and napkin. His instructions detailed every stop, direction, pass, path and landmark on the route in what I can only assume is perfectly understandable and grammatically correct German, enhanced brilliantly by grainy, greyscale photos of red rocks (highly distinguishable in a valley full of red rocks) . Looking at the encrypted treasure map, the pictures and my perfect-for-hiking-slip-on office shoes, I probably should have bailed.

IMG_6203, originally uploaded to flickr by vfilby.

By far the most awesome Mardi Gras parade is the St Anne's parade. As far as I understand this an informal parade by the residents of Marigny and Treme; and is the only parade to take place in the French Quarter.

The Tour de Bauchery begins, first stop New Orleans, Lousiana. Itinerary includes:

• Party on Bourbon St (yes it is Mardi Gras)
• Eat really Lousiana food
• Drive the Lake Ponchartrain causeway
• See the cemetaries
• etc....

It is a Saturday, in the industrial area outside of Guelph and I am the only one at work. It had been raining on and off but the big she storm came suddenly. Being the sort who finds the chaos and havoc of a good thunder storm oddly calming, I wandered out the back entrance out the back door and into the glassed in foyer area where I could watch the rain coming down for a little while.

I calmly and surely walked right out the back door and enjoyed five peaceful minutes of storm watching. Relaxed I decided it was time to get back to the grind and I reached for the door. That nagging sinking feeling that accompanies slow realization tickled my stomach, then as the door stood fast against my pulling full realization dawned upon me.

Weekends... Automatic locks...

Anyone like me who is in the process of completing a masters (or Ph.D.) thesis fully realizes the annoyance potential of friends and family. Really annoying doesn't even begin to describe the fury and depression inspired by that infamous question. The one that gives graduate students sweaty palms and elevated heart rate just at the mere mention of "How is your thesis going?" (or its other form "When is your thesis going to be finished?").

In the beginning it will be innocent and even well-received but as time goes on that one little question will open the flood gates on doubt, uncertainty, frustration and hopelessness causing the acute stress response known as fight of flight. You may think that it can't possibly be that bad and that I am exaggerating; but dear reader you are wrong. This feeling is so ubiquitous, so pervasive that it has been immortalized in Ph.D. Comic's strip about Thesis Etiquette (remember that Ph.D. Comics is the quintessential guide to graduate student life, feeding and care). So yes it really is that bad, and yes that is how we feel when asked that question.

If that isn't bad enough, people ask this question again and again and again. At first I assumed it was ignorance, but even after politely explaining the ramifications they continue to ask! So I can really only conclude that they have this misbegotten notion that harassing you constantly is somehow helping you finish faster. Again with the wrongness! Think of someone standing over your shoulder saying "Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?" Do you think that would make you finish your task faster? No! It would only irritate the $%^& out of you and make you want to throw someone off a bridge. So....

Seriously, you are reading this blog so you are probably smart, funny and sexy so if you know a graduate student please raise above your baser instincts and distinguish yourself from the rest of the morons. Show compassion and sympathy, if you want to support them in their academic efforts give them free food and offer to proof-read their work. I am now very much looking forward to all the comments and messages asking - sincerely - how my thesis is going.

After I graduated I did a foolish, foolish thing. I chose to start a Masters degree in Computer science. Note the emphasis on start. I can hear the virtual masses mocking me; of course by masses I mean all five of you. But wait! I have an excuse! I graduated just after the .com crash, seeing dismal job prospects I decided to stick around for some higher education. I had other delusions at the time: "a masters degree will help with my career!" Now I am sure that two extra years would have bolstered my career as a programmer much more than a masters. But really, who doesn't want to be the master of something. And have the paper to prove it!

I started as a young graduate full of enthusiasm, imagining the how great my research could be. The doors that it could open and even potentially a career as a professor! Don't fret friends, the delusion was temporary. Time wore on and my enthusiasm dwindled, my straight and narrow path to glory begin to meander leaving the potential greatness scattered in my wake.

Then I committed the ultimate academic mistake - fatal to my academic career yet with a net positive effect - I defected. I started to work in the industry.

Two years later I am realizing that my leave of absence is about to end and that it is time to get my ass in gear and finish what I started. I am also realizing that I haven't really even looked at my work in the past two years, so getting back into the swing of things is painful. That coupled with the seemingly magnetic repulsion that I have developed towards my thesis make it exceptionally hard to work on.

Here I am editing and reflecting on my academic past. I have definitely learned a few lessons:

1. Ph.D. Comics is the closest and most realistic portrayal of grad life. Any future grad student should read every single comic strip to understand what they are in for. You can swear that you will be different than Slackenery, but better individuals have been wrong.
2. The rate at which your research becomes obsolete is slightly faster than the rate at which you can research. This is even more pronounced for my own rate of research!
3. Free food only comes second to free money.
4. Graduate student labs rarely have windows.
5. 

   Campus life - you know, everything but the researchy-working stuff you are supposed to be doing - is absolutely awesome. I miss being on campus. Especially chillin' with a friend in the middle of Johnson Green eating frosties and listening to Aerosmith. The fact that we were illegally parked on campus in a place where there really isn't a parking spot only makes the memories sweeter.

6. (Added July 17, 2007) It is beyond annoying when people continually harass you about your thesis.
7. Lastly, try to keep all of your referenced papers in pdf form, indexed and searchable from your computer. Trying to find a bit of information from a single paper can be a bitch when you have to delve through a stack!

Time to get back to work, I really gotta get this monkey off my back.

For a short time in my life I was commuting two hours three times a week, there and back! Four hours on the road each day, it was terrible. To sooth the pain I bought an after-market Panasonic cd/mp3 player. It was great for it's day, I could load up a CD full of mp3's and listen to my heart's content. It sure beat flipping through stations or bringing along ton's of CD's.

But the iPod eclipsed the mp3 CD player in a big way. I can put all my music on a little device that maintains all kinds of good metadata, playlists and more; it is convenient and a lot less bulky than traditional CD players. But my nice, shiny aftermarket deck didn't have an easy way to integrate the iPod. The deck contains Cd changer controls but there must be an active Panasonic changer before you can even select the inputs.

Then there was a glimmer in the distance, other people had the same problem and one cunning individual made an emulator that communicated with the deck to make it think a player was present. I excitedly order one of the emulators and a Belkin AutoKit to further my integration madness.

I don't normally post reviews or claim to have any taste in movies -- that's your fair warning.

I entered with low expectations, and I stand corrected. I like a clever plot with character development as much as the next guy but... big freakin' robots, none-stop action and smoking hot ladies. How could I have doubted them? All of the above coupled with some kick-ass special effects* and you have one home-baked pie of awesomeness.

Go see the movie, they deserve your money.

* Still doesn't hold a candle to the triple changers, which I consider an engineering feat to this day.

Recently I was digging through the archives and found a number or pictures of my first cat Franklin. Franklin was a quirky cat, blind and weighing about four pounds he was the perfect portrait of a litter runt. But for all his disabilities, he got away with many schemes and antics.

When I say he was blind, I don't mean completely blind. He had about enough sight to distinguish a flash light shining on a dark wall. He would chase that spot of light like a thirsty desert dweller would chase a mirage, crying sadly all the while.

He faked it well though, you would often see him staring out the window at things. You would almost believe that he was keeping a keen eye open, observing all the on-goings of all the humans and wildlife. His head would swivel periodically tracking the nefarious deeds of the local squirrel cartel. Just when he had you fooled he would go sit down 10 centimeters from a wall and stare straight at it for hours watching the on-goings of mice, men, and squirrel cartels.

Really he survived quite well he knew the boundaries of the apartment and had just enough sight to get around. Occasionally that just enough sight was just enough to get him in trouble. One hot summer day I had the balcony opened up with only a screen door separating Franky's safe zone from the wild. Just enough light to make it look like there was an opening, but not enough to realize there was a barrier. He came tearing through the house carefully navigating the open spaces, he rounded the last corner and leaped into the opening that wasn't really an opening. Turns out that cats bounce.

One day I dug up a catnip plant from the farm, potted it and took it home for Franky. Sure it may be a gateway drug but medicinal use was clearly a solid defense. I excitedly took Franky and placed him directly in front of the plant... but he just walked on by. After many frustrated attempts I gave up. Either his smell was handicapped too or he just didn't care or was too stupid to notice it... For some reason I kept the plant and nurtured it letting it grow and grow. Now I grew up in a place where marijuana is typically cultivated better than any of the other cash crops. So I might have clued in to Frank's scheme. He wasn't olfactory-challenged, dumb, or innocent. He was simply waiting for the right time to harvest.

At the choice time, I came home to find the catnip plant completely demolished and knocked over -- not a single leaf left on the plant. I foolishly assumed that he had simply eaten the fruits of his harvest. But Frank was a clever cat and tended his stash better than most of the bong-toting hippies I know. Months later I saw Frank go behind the TV and come out with that wild look in the eye that says "Get off my couch and go get me 10 bags of Doritos." I looked behind the TV and there was a neat pile of dried catnip leaves stashed in a recess in the TV stand. I am sure there is a feline Rob Schneider somewhere mocking me "... and you can put your nip in there."

He also had a keen understanding of home theater equipment. In the night, in his true element, he would cause a ruckus. catching fake mice, bullying boxes and general tom foolery. Now my DVD player had a value-add feature, you could just shut the DVD player off by it would remember the play position of the movie. And this DVD player was low to floor, just high enough that you could slide a box up against it and hit the play button. Once night Frank brow beat a box directly into the play button. The system came alive DVD player whirring, the stereo came on with the DVD player, and Crash! The paused movie was paused just before a loud explosion and the stereo was set somewhere between lout and very loud. He was a lot more careful and diplomatic in his future dealings with boxes.

There are many other small stories, like the lemonade incident of 2000 and his screen climbing escapades. He was quirky and handicapped but always up for malevolent enterprise. Here's to Frank long gone but not forgotten.