The paper

Got a draft of a paper due this week. In short, it's on the auditory codes and how they work with a cochlear implant. I've set aside the whole day today, Sunday, for some serious paper-crankage. But somehow, it's almost 11 and I haven't done a thing. It's incredible what "needs" to happen in order to write this thing.

Wake up at 6:30 to feed pets. Too tired to start writing. Go back to bed.

Wake up at 8:30. Try to get up. Unsuccessful until 9.

Breakfast: must make blueberry pancakes. We're out of some ingredients, so find alternates. Works out pretty well.

Watch TV while eating. Ina Garten is making a beach picnic. Doesn't hurt to watch the rest of it...it's only 15 minutes.

David Chiarello comes on. He's making roasted corn salsa. I should spend a few minutes cuddling the dog before I get going. Wow...can't wait to grill some vegetables. We should start planning that BBQ we've been talking about. Okay, later.

I'll just read this article about new baby Brangelina. Oh hey, check this out: Johnny Depp breaks in all of Keith Richards shoes for him. That's hilarious.

Need coffee. The choices at home aren't doing much for me. I'll go up to Heidi's and get one made by professionals. Sammy better come with me. Where is her leash?

I should really wear something other than pajamas. Where are my sandals?

Okay, got my coffee...let's fire this sucker up.

I should pull up the class website so I can reference notes from there. Hmmm, it'd be best to get the blog reading out of the way so there'll be no distractions later.

Ha! Check out everybody's favorite State Rep. Dave's MySpace account.

I need to figure out when I'm working out today...

The house needs picking up...

If I get a lot done, I'll go with Ray and his friends to see the X-Men movie...

I really should post to my blog...

This is ridiculous.

Ode to Spring

By Sammy

Spring has come
Hurrah - such dung!
The possoms scamper
And relieve a sampler
Of delectable fair
For dogs with hair

Run wild and free
In the backyard shall we
Alight anew
On the glories of poo!
Once precious loot found
Roll round and round
On choice fresh scent
Of moist defecant

O' gather ye possom
Come from hither and yon
To feast in our garden
And poop on our lawn

I shall find thy sweet leavings
Oh yes, I will nigh
For morrow day greets me
With prized possompie

Intrepid Trail Dog

Happy Quitiversary

Last Saturday marked 1 year since my last day at my old job. It seems a little silly to remember such an anniversary, but it's an important day for me to remember.

I was talking to my mom, on Saturday no less, about my anxiety over an upcoming test. I mean this was a doozey, which included sun-up to sun-down studying, several study groups with beer to lessen the anxiety, and discussions about vomitting both pre- and post-test. (Vomitting is also a somewhat accurate analogy of what most of us did with the material on the test as well.) Anyway, after patiently listening to me whine, she concluded, "Well, I bet they would have you back at (old job)..."

I have joked about this in the last year, but it was her seriousness that really took me off guard. For a half second, my imagination ran with it: sitting at my desk feeling beyond bored, working on strategies that felt personally compromising, getting through painful weekly team meetings, feeling like most of my brain was slowly melting while the time management and politicking centers worked at full steam. Ugh. I'm trying to think of a word that captures this unhealthy combination of boredom, paranoia, disatisfaction, depression, apathy and longing that represents my old career. Maybe...bordepathetism.

The fact is, as I told my mom, I love school. Even at the most daunting part of the quarter, I absolutely love it and the direction it will take me. And as for my old job...well, in hindsight I realize it's 3 times as horrid a fit for me as I thought when I walked out of there my last day. Horrible fit. Simply awful.

Today I sat in class and thought for the umpteenth time: I will take phase-locking to fundraising any day. The period of a time waveform is far superior to a cultivation strategy form, period. I'd rather spend an afternoon trying to understand single voxel comparisons than schmooze with strangers on some view patio. And even when I'm struggling to remember the point of the temporal modulation transfer function, I'll take it over that old slurping sound of my soul being sucked away.

So happy quitiversary or whatever you'd call it. I am very happy to be here.

We have a new toothpaste

Back from the time warp

Palm Springs recalls 1985-stuck-in-1975-harkening-the-1950s. White tuxedo jackets, headbands, and sequins on t-shirts and sandals are not only acceptable, but encouraged. Some premium people watching ensued during our 2/3 pool-lounging/drinking, 1/3 eating/drinking all girls birthday weekend.

A-ha

At the beginning of the year, I griped about my name being a moving target...Rebecca Whoseit, Rebecca Whatsit, or Rebecca Whoseit Whatsit. Since then I've been consistently using all three names except when it's not possible. It's cumbersome at times, but it feels more like me than the other options.

So today, I got reinforcement (and reinforcement goes a long way with me!)...at one of my regular coffee stops...

Coffee guy: You have the coolest name.
Me: Really? Which one?
Coffee guy: All three, together. It's the coolest name I've seen in a long time.
Me: Wow, thanks!

Hurrah -- at least there's one person who isn't saying "Rebecca blah blah huh?"