merry christmas

Tomorrow morning, I'm off to my parent's retirement haven in cow country... so this is my last chance to wish you all the most fantastic Christmas!

I plan to spend the big day eating too much, drinking too much and whipping my Dad's arse at any game he cares to challenge me to (aside from cribbage, which I think he's long since given up trying to teach me). And hey... it might even snow!

Have yourselves a wonderful day,

JJ.

finally, some good news...

... I have a new deadline! Supervisor Tom originally wanted the thesis submitted today (well, Monday 20th... I'm up late, again). The university shuts for the Christmas break on Thursday; after he called the research degree officer, he told me that if it was submitted on the last working day, it wouldn't be processed until January anyway. So, I'm now aiming for January 4th, which is rather more realistic!

I'm currently struggling to write the acknowledgements. For some people, I can naturally write glowing reports on how much they helped me... for other people, I'm having difficulties.

If anyone has any suggestions on polite ways to thank people that have pissed you off for three years of your life, they would be gratefully received ;-)

The only downside of this is that now I feel as though I cheated my sister out of chocolate and vodka!

panic stations

As I tried to get to sleep last night, I thought through everything I still have to do, and realised I'm probably screwed. The last possible date for submission is the 23rd, and that thought just fills me with dread. I still have so much to do...

Thankfully, my sister and brother-in-law just dropped by with Christmas presents to take down to my parents, along with another care package (well, a Sainsbury's bag) containing eleven bars of chocolate and a bottle of Absolut.

Thank you!!! Again...

deadlines and distractions.

Ok, so I have a deadline to finish writing my thesis, print the damn thing, bind it and submit it. Initially, this deadline was December 20th. I spoke to Tom, who agreed Tuesday would be OK... before helpfully pointing out that the university shuts for Christmas on Thursday 23rd (he'd checked... he knows me too well). I currently have the twin motivations of wanting to finish this before Christmas, and knowing if this takes any longer, we risk losing the funding for my post-doc position. It's a thought that kind of focuses the mind.

So basically, I have a week to finish writing the last experimental chapter, start writing the general discussion, and finish the main introduction. And make corrections. And sort out the references and the appendices.

I want to cry.

Something else that made me want to cry? "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott shot dead onstage... I hadn't heard Damageplan, but I loved Pantera, and I love gigs in small venues. It was a week ago, and I still can't think of anything to say that'll make sense.

RIP.

Holy anxiety attack, Batman!

So I head into the main department - yes, on a Sunday night - to print off the chapter that has so far caused me the biggest headache. I always knew it would be the largest of the experimental chapters, as it contains many, many images. It's currently over 100 pages, and I haven't even finished writing it yet.

Two things I know right now: I'm not going to be very popular with anyone who has to wade their way through it, and I can't breathe.

Shit.

a helpful supervisor...

I've spoken to Rob on a couple of occasions over the last week. Each time, he's been remarkably helpful and upbeat. He even apologised for sending me the corrections via the track changes tool on Word. Damn... now I feel guilty for calling him a prick.

bah bloody humbug?

Normally I get excited about Christmas. Growing up, it was always a big deal... My Mum would deck the halls not so much with boughs of holly, but just about anything she could find. The glitzier the better. The tree would always be in the bay window of the living room; adorned with beautifully home-made decorations, it was usually the best in the street. The presents were piled up underneath. Mountains of food were cooked. Aside from the occasional disaster (usually Whiskers the cat either climbing the tree or chewing the light wires), it was a fantastic time of year.

Even though Santa still visits, it hardly ever snows any more. Most of the family are either dead or spread out. Oh, and I have the small matter of a thesis to finish and submit by 20th December.

I know I should get out the tree, and try to enter into the festive spirit. I think I left the lights on it, but I don't know if I have the time or the energy to decorate it. There's also the small matter of where to put it... the table I normally use is the storing papers and theses that are too important to add to the multiple piles on the floor.

Hmmmm... maybe next week...

Oh, and Happy Birthday Millie :-)

things I'm learning

I'm currently spending most of my time glued either to my computer, or the current series of Third Watch on Channel 4. I have, however, had the time to make a few observations:

I should have read all of the relevant literature at the start of the project, not now that I'm writing my thesis.

Key papers will always be written in German.

I think I may have attention deficit disorder, but you can't buy Ritalin online.

My ability to touch type is getting worse, not better

Baileys does not help me to write.

When you're flat fucking broke, you really shouldn't be buying bottles of Absolut (especially when there is perfectly good ethanol in the lab).

When deadlines force me to, I can actually focus for, ooohhh, about 45 minutes at time. Then I start perusing the iTunes store, or browsing blogs. Suddenly, the observations of friends of my sister's livejournal friend's seem more interesting than my thesis.

If I say I see light at the end of the tunnel, supervisor Rob will cross it out with big red lines and ask me if I'm sure about this.

Rob is a prick.

the simple pleasures in life

As anyone who has ever read this blog will know, there are certain many things that bother me. One of my pet hates at the moment are a series of particularly irritating TV adverts for the (otherwise) wonderful Cadbury's chocolate.

A couple of the ads have shown the joy of people who have discovered a forgotten chocolate bar (for example in the bottom of their bag, or buried under papers on their desk). I saw this, and just thought "as if." When I buy chocolate, I eat it. Sometimes before I put my coin purse away. If I'm being restrained, I'll even take the wrapper off first.

Anyway... to the point. I'm sitting at home making corrections to one of my thesis chapters. This is a thoroughly depressing way to spend a Friday night. I pick up my handbag, and rifle through it looking for my USB pen drive and my favourite lip gloss (though to be honest, not necessarily in that order...) Suddenly, I find the unmistakable shape of a Quality Street Big Green Triangle, and the moronic joy of the dorks in the ads makes sense. I almost cradled the chocolate in my hand with a look of disbelief on my face, before carefully opening the wrapper and savouring the gorgeous praline centre.

Chocolate has never tasted sweeter...

help required

So, I don't know where this scores on the pretentiousness scale, but I've decided I need a nice quote for the beginning of my thesis. I've been rummaging around online, as well as hitting my sister for ideas... any feedback or other suggestions will be gratefully accepted.

"If we knew what it was we were doing, it would not be called research,
would it?"
Albert Einstein

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
Also Einstein

"They say that we are better educated than out parents' generation. What
they mean is that we go to school longer. It is not the same thing."
Richard Yates

"It was the Law of the Sea, they said. Civilisation ends at the waterline.
Beyond that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top"
Hunter S Thompson

"If you really want something in this life you have to work for it.
Now quiet, they're about to announce the lottery numbers "
Homer Simpson

"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis"
Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Resume

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live."
Dorothy Parker

oh. my. god.

Could someone please let me know if it is normal to want to choke the life out of your supervisor?

Really.

My sister very kindly helped me set up some webspace, so that I could upload my thesis files. Partly so I had another back-up, but also so I could put up a page from which my two supervisors can download the various sections as they become available. This seemed like a good idea. I also added a polite little note to the page, requesting that the pages were printed, and any corrections were marked up and returned to me on paper. (I did this as my main supervisor, Rob, has the rather tedious habit of using the Track Changes tool on Word. This drives me nuts.)

So... this morning, I finally haul my arse out of bed and check my email. And cluttering up my inbox, are two sections of my thesis. The text was black, now most of it is blue and crossed through. And considering many of the paragraphs are lifted directly from a paper Rob OK'd about 18 months ago, I really can't understand his problem...

p45 fodder

OK, so I'm still writing, but at least I do have a job to go to when I finish. On the upside, this means a regular paycheck, so I can start to pay off those student loans and other debts I've managed to accrue over six years of study. The downside? I may have to start acting like a responsible adult.

For example, I don't know if the male undergraduate students will still be considered fair game, and walking around the department swearing loudly might also be frowned upon.

Before deciding to head off to university to become a mature student, I worked for a couple of small companies; the kind of places where life was pretty laid back, and there were no rules and regulations. The kind of places where there would be no objections to the calendar I bought from amazon.fr

I've never had that much interest in either the French, or rugby players... but oo-la-laaaa...

French rugby players vs. English Farmers? It's really not a fair contest:






When I saw the link to some scans, I just had to have it :-)

After it arrived, I realise the either the French have a very flexible concept of the calendar, or they like to look a beautifully shot pictures of fit, muscular men (and who could blame them). There are dates on the page: a single line along the top in a font so small you can hardly read them. But I guess that's just not the point.

;-)

I just hope putting it up in the office doesn't result in my p45 being handed straight back to me...

the collection grows

Cards, cards and more cards:



I just wonder if I'll finish the thesis before the whole wall gets plastered...

:-)

wembley hell placebo

Driving in London scares me. I know it shouldn't, after all, I did grow up there. But whenever I have to go to an area I don't know, I think back to a survey carried out my a motoring organisation five or so years back. They concluded that half of the road signs were either missing or pointing in the wrong direction. Since the GPS on my phone gets confused by any building taller than a shed, I bought an A-Z with my petrol. I did eventually find the Wembley complex, although it may have had more to do with luck than judgment.

The roadsigns?

Aaaarrrrrrrrrrrggggggg!!!

They can put up signs every 50 meters on every bloody road informing you of the speed limit and the presence of speed cameras. Would it be too much to expect even an occasional sign telling you which fucking road you are actually on, coupled with other useful hints (like the direction you are driving in, for example?) Apparently so. Do the powers-that-be not realise that most people do not want to be in north London? They just want road signs telling you how to get the hell out of there...

(One rant down)

Anyway, I arrived at Wembley around 4 pm. Kind of early, I know, but as well as giving me a better chance to get down near the front, I could avoid the M25 during a Friday rush hour. Billed as Placebo's last gig until 2006, there was a pretty multinational feel to the crowd; I think people had travelled from all over Europe to be there. I speak virtually no French, but when the girl in the queue behind me said something that loosely translated as "Fuck me, I'm cold!" I could understand perfectly. A fairly good indication that I've spent too much time in the lab with Emilie, my foul-mouthed French fellow postgrad!

In front of me was a group of kids (you know you're getting old when you describe people as kids)... including girls that pretty much personified every rant I've ever made about Fucking Annoying People at Gigs.

"Oh, I sit on my boyfriends shoulders at festivals..."
"oooo, I like the Ramones (never mind that most of them were dead before you hit puberty) and I think Busted and McFly are soooo cool"
"aahhhh, and I like, you know, like going down the front at gigs, because guys usually let me infront of them 'cause I'm short..."

Oh, wake the fuck up you vacuous dumb blonde airhead bitch... they let you infront of them because you're sickeningly cute jailbait with your tits on display, and apparently have no shame about fluttering your overdone eyelashes to get your own way. Urgh! Do I sound bitter??

First up were The Departure... although from what exactly I couldn't tell. They didn't totally suck, or anything... they were just rather generic, with no particularly good songs. Their music, styling and posturing all reminded me of Franz Ferdinand... about the only outstanding thing about them were the bass player's cheekbones.

I wasn't sure quite what to expect of Har Mar Superstar. Some people in the queue told me they were "kind of funky", and that the bloke often finishes up jumping around the stage in his pants (for Americans, read underpants, I think). So before they came on, I was intrigued and looking forward to the set.

Holy fucking fuck!

I have seen some bloody awful support acts. I honestly can't remember ever seeing something so bad. It had road crash karma: you know you're not supposed to look, but you can't help it.

I decided perhaps I was being overly judgmental. I closed my eyes and just tried to see if there was any actual song-writing talent under the ridiculous backing tapes, flabby torso, man-tits, and oversized ego. Nope... none to be found. When they announced they "only had three more songs" left to play, I spent them all wishing I had an Uzi. And lots of ammunition. By this point, he had stripped down to his trousers; I just stood there praying he wouldn't remove them. Thankfully, he didn't.

Why-oh-why? They could have booked Saint Silas Intercession. Or the Ga Gas. Or better still, both.

(second rant over)

So, before Placebo came on, I was standing there thinking "you bastards had better bloody be worth all this..." I needn't have worried. The came on to the tune of Taste in Men, the crowd went wild, and two of the whiny little bitches in front of me got slammed out of the way (in my defence, I've never actually claimed to be a nice person...).

Anyway, the setlist for anyone who cares:

Taste In Men
The Bitter End
Every You Every Me
Protege Moi
Black-Eyed
Special Needs
English Summer Rain
I Do
This Picture
Special K
Slave To The Wage
36 Degrees (Re-worked version)
Pure Morning

Twenty Years
Without You I'm Nothing (with Special Guest Robert Smith)
Boys Don't Cry (with Robert Smith)

Teenage Angst (Acoustic Version)
Nancy Boy

It's got to be said, I failed to get too excited about Robert Smith as a special, surprise guest. Boys Don't Cry did sound good, and is now added to a short list of Cure-songs-that-don't-suck. I know he has a trademark look, but he's a compelling argument in favour of stylists. At the very least, he could have let Brian do his make-up...



(pic lifted from placeboworld.co.uk)

Anyway, the gig fucking rocked. Security sucked - by refusing to hand out water (they preferred instead to haul out a small army of the highly dehydrated and semi-conscious). I even had a good drive home. I just hope they don't split... their goodbye sounded a little too final. Possibly just Brian being a drama queen.

The verdict? Worth every penny. And assuming they're still together, Roll on 2006.

oops

I really should avoid eBay. It's not so much that it's bad for my health, just my bank balance. When Placebo announced a one-off gig at Wembley Arena, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to go. By the time I realised I could, all of the standing tickets had sold out.

I figured it was no big deal, and tried to remind myself of all the things I detest about the place. For those not in the know, the arena was built as an Olympic swimming pool; the acoustics are a dead giveaway. It's a pain in the arse to get to, and an even bigger pain to get back from. And it's miles from where I live.

Then I decided that it didn't matter that I had already seen the bloody band four times this year... I just had to be there.

So I've just increased my credit card debt, and succumbed to the heady excitement that is eBay. The thing I hate the most about that website, is that it brings out all my worst characteristics... the predator, the bully and the bitch. I crush people because I can. To the point where I synchronise eBay time with that on the speaking clock, and chuckle to myself as I picture the poor sucker who realises that he/she was outbid in the final 10 seconds. Does anybody out there actually like me? 'Cause I really don't think I like myself...

feeling old

Well, that's another Birthday been and gone. I'm feeling decidedly like an old fart, but it was all the excuse I needed to leave the writing behind, head back to London and have a great day out.

I finally made it up to Fulham Broadway (don't get me started on the journey), apologised profusely for my late arrival to my Dad, who then took me for lunch. After grabbing a couple of dishes off the belt at Yo Sushi!, I forgot what I had been pissed off about to start with. Anyway, the day only got better. After watching Chelsea beat Blackburn 4-0, it was off to my favourite Chinese restaurant for dinner with the family.

If only every day could be that perfect...

new office, new start?

Well, even though I can't start work until I've finished the thesis-writing hell, I've already moved into my new (shared) office. I live alone. This is something I am generally grateful for, but I was developing a serious case of cabin fever. I think I was just craving a different set of walls to stare at. So I took all my shit to the labs... People keep walking in, looking at all my files and saying things like, "my God... you're so organised."

I fear the day when they realise the truth. I honestly can't think of many things in my life that are organised. Maybe my CD collection counts, but that's only 'cause I don't really use it since I ripped them all to MP3.

My noticeboard has about 10 layers of irrelevant and out of date detritus pinned to it. My hard drives are filled with disorganised crap that I can't find. And don't even try to imagine the state of my kitchen. My life is generally a mess, in just about every imaginable way.

cards, glorious cards

To try to cheer me up/spur me on, my sister started sending me postcards each day. Then she asked various friends and relatives to join in. This much appreciated collection is growing:

.

Most of the cards are either attractive, or funny (or both). Unlike the card my brother-in-law sent me. He meant well, I know, but I now realise my sister didn't marry him for his artistic streak :-)

.

(Oh, and I think the footprints are courtesy of my lazy-bastard upstairs neighbours, who appear to think picking up the mail is in some way beneath them.)

been a long time coming...

... but I've finally got around to updating this poor, neglected excuse for a blog. Oh, and I'm cheating by back-dating some of the entries; I can't imagine anyone will care too much! In all honesty, there hasn't really been a lot happening worth writing about

I'm still trying to write the thesis. My funding ran out mid-September, and most of the things that I can think to do require money that I don't have.

I'm fed up :-(

just a little list:

OK, so I stole this from my sister. It has taught me a few things. Like I'm cheap, and I need to get out more.

My apologies to her friends on LiveJournal. Apparently I can have this on a separate page, but it's really more hassle than it's worth...

01. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone (I'm assuming this means someone else)
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease (not in public...)

11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watched the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game (I'm assuming the FA Cup Final counts!)
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars

21. Changed a baby's diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill (only while a student...)
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb (only before it went into the oven)
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar (I have, however, had several odd conversations with non-begging bums)
40. Seen a total eclipse

41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts

51. Taken care of someone who was shit-faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign (I did try, but decided I didn't need reminding of my time living at my parent's suburban hell-hole house... sorry sis!)
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip
59. Gone rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice

61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland (only in transit elsewhere)
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan (one night in transit... doesn't really count!)
67. Bench pressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records
70. Pretended to be a superhero

71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Gone scuba diving
75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it

81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better (if only I had the chance...)
84. Started a business (I'm guessing charging people for breaking into their own lockers in high school -when they had lost their key- doesn't count?)
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married

91. Been in a movie (only an awful pop video, nuff said...)
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have (well, been in lust with)
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy (I've always attributed any post-kiss dizziness to excess alcohol consumption)
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office (but then, I've never worked in one. And no, I haven't got laid in the lab... yet.)
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice

101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place (why do this when you can just have sex in a public place?)
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage (school plays, eughhh)
110. Been to Las Vegas

111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone (no, although my parents had their moments)
118. Buried one/both of your parents (nope, they've managed to go over 40 years without killing each other)
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship (well, live-aboard dive boat)

121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a cheque
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country

131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did (nope, although one of the Last of the Summer Wine actors caused somewhat of a bust-up when he told my Grandad that he'd had my Gran... this was, apparently, untrue)
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over (only to go to uni)
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge (nah, the people I was with walked... I got driven back to the other side so I could call my parents for them to wish me Happy Birthday)
136. Sang loud in the car; didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived
140. Wrote articles for a large publication

141. Lost over 100 pounds (only about 60 pounds)
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane (trial flying lesson)
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone's heart (nah, been tempted to stick certain peoples' in liquid nitrogen, but then you have to figure out what to do with the rest of the body)
146. Helped an animal give birth (but I did give a hand-job to a pufferfish... and made baby fish in the lab. Does this count?)
147. Been fired or laid off from a job (not technically)
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being (no: see 145)

151. Gone on an African photo safari (well, snapping elephants & lions in the Kruger National Park)
152. Ridden a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph (95 mph - downhill - is the top speed of my piece-of-crap car!)
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major corrective eye surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train (again, I assume they mean with someone else?)
160. Had a snake as a pet

161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon (I had the 'flu while there, had to stick to the helicopter)
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states (well, I live in the UK, but it's close ~ three months on a Greyhound bus...)
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi

171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 or more healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime (you are kidding, right?)
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach (I usually just mash the fuckers)
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad

181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen something
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions (never had any to go to... reunions, that is)
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language

191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care.
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196. Dyed your hair (my Mum recently showed my the photo's from my sister's wedding (12 years ago) ~ I'd forgotten what it's natural colour was!)
197. Been a DJ
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199. Written your own role playing game
200. Been arrested

I must get out more... really :-(

fucking-wanker-bastard-cunts

As you may be able to tell, I am now officially close to losing it. I'm seriously wondering why I took this studentship. I kind of knew what I was letting myself in for at the time... but why the fuck did I think I could actually do this?? Why?

Today's problem: (Sorry for being vague... but I have to avoid certain specificities here.)

I'm working on the physiology of a particular animal. I have to describe - in detail - the structure of a particular organ. I came up with a nice little technique that has allowed me to get some pretty fucking fantastic (even if I do say so myself) images of this organ using scanning electron microscopy. Now I have to label the sub-structures of this organ for my thesis. This should not be too difficult. Many different scientists have published descriptions of this organ in related species.

Drawback number one: I don't know if they had good reasons, or if their pathetic little male egos got the better of them. But there appear to be at least six different sets of terminology in current use for the same structures. Wankers! Why?! Really?? The fact that many of these are latin-based doesn't help.

Drawback number two: Few of these researchers appear to have been capable of providing images that are of any use discerning the relative positions of any of these structures. They may have known what they were attempting to say when they wrote the papers, but I thought the whole point of this was to impart their knowledge to others. Maybe I really am just that fucking stupid...

Drawback number three: I'm currently hovering between wanting to commit multiple homicide, and not giving a shit.

I just want to line up every author of every paper I've read today, rip out their eyes and pour Trizol (TM) in the sockets... trust me, this is not nice stuff. Wankers. The bloody lot of them.

I'm just tempted to make up a completely new set of terms, and see if anyone notices.

Listening to: Ministry. This is not the calming music I need.

Fuck.

they mean well...

My parents, that is. This morning, I either slept through my alarm or snoozed it to death... I was woken by the postman. A package had been sent from the area of cow-country that my parents retired to. They had sent me a package of cookies (yes, another one... did I mention the family history of diabetes) and a calendar.

Both of these items had, I suspect, orginated from a "farm shop" that my parents frequent. I'm sure some of the items they sell are indeed local produce. I have a feeling many more are manufactured on industrial estates in Essex, and just packaged to give them a nice homely feel, thus creating the illusion that they are not filled with artificial preservatives and the like. My parents call me cynical...

On to the calendar. What is it with the current, overdone trend for naked people in calendars?? It may have been a novelty when the Womens' Institute did it. And naked firemen are fine... really fine! Even my former student friend Sean got his kit off for a good cause. This calendar, however, contains pictures of naked farmers. And it may just do more to harm the British farm industry than the effects of BSE and foot & mouth combined.

Here is Exhibit A:

.

And they say that many farmers are struggling to find a wife. I can't understand why that could be...

Exhibit B:

.

It looks like this guy has given up on the woman search, and taken to pleasuring himself with milking equipment in some bizarre countryside kinky sex practice. Things have to be pretty odd before I think them kinky. There is a dairy farm by the exit of the estate on which my parents live. I'll never view it the same way again! And if I see the above pictured freak there, the speed limit'll go straight out the bloody window.

Exhibit C:

.

The fact that his father could find a wife should give hope to all. And doesn't the floppy, wrinkly cabbage just entice you to ponder what wonders lie underneath?

I know. It's personality that counts.

Exhibit D:

.

Better looking. But he's naked, and he has his hand around its throat. I think for that poor little lamb, a nice warm oven and mint sauce is going to be sweet relief.

I just wonder about the protein content of the meal...

Anyway, enough of my bitching.

Back to work :-(

i must have sounded stressed...

Having suffered this whole PhD-writing Hell herself, my sister is incredibly sympathetic to my needs. Anyway, her previous care package had long since run out, so I was woken up this morning by Tescos kindly delivering to me some bags of food she had ordered for me:

.

Many thanks again!

check it out:

The wonderful (I think) Saint Silas Intercession now have a video for All About the Money, their debut single.

If you want to see it, click here. If you want to see them live, get your arse to the Camden Barfly next Saturday. Or just sneak a look at their website.

I'd love to go... If I manage to finish another chapter by then, I might make the effort, and think of it as a reward :-)

my mind is numb.

Which is officially my excuse for neglecting this poor little blog. I've been sitting here at home, desperately trying to write my bloody thesis. It is starting to take some kind of shape, but the whole process is slower than I could possibly have imagined, and is sapping any kind of soul from my already pretty empty life. Does that sound self-pitying? Well, tough!

It's got to the stage where I can't see the point calling my friends, as I have nothing to say to them that isn't contained within the previous paragraph. At night, I open my bedroom window, and watch people walking down my street. Most of them are legless, and noisily staggering their way home from the local clubs and pubs. I'm sure there were occasions way back in the past when I did the same, I just can't remember them. Even the irritating attempts at conversation that I used to get from the woman in the local newsagent now seem like a welcome distraction.

Technically, my funding runs out next week. I was hoping to have some kind of coherent draft by the end of the month. I now realise I've been living in cloud cuckoo land. A part of me wants to let out some kind of primal scream, or break something... but despite the fact that I despise my neighbours, I don't want to disturb the bastards, and I can't afford to replace anything I wreck.

And no... my thesis is no better written than the dire drivel above.

I'm Fucked. (Quite literally, with a capital F)

Sorry for the rant, btw.

hhmmmm...

Definitely one to file under "too much time on their hands"

this may be useful:

Lifted from the Feedback column of New Scientist (28th August 2004):

FEEDBACK has an email address that acts as a magnet for people needing answers. Queries here range from requests for ways of getting around drug testing of urine to subscription rates for obscure magazines, and from "please write my homework essay on the big bang" to "what's this that I found on my porch?"

Don't these people know that Tim Berners-Lee and Robert Cailliau invented the World Wide Web precisely to avoid answering such emails? It was the politest way possible of saying to particle physicists "look it up yourself". And search engines are almost perfect for this fundamental purpose, assuming you apply a moment's thought to the question.

Several people have become frustrated with those who fail to do this. One individual was sufficiently annoyed to create www.fuckinggoogleit.com, which tells them "Google is your friend: all smart people use Google. You appear not to be one of them."

You can even define the search for them. When someone asks you to help them with their homework about the big bang, just send them the link http://www.justfuckinggoogleit.com/search?query=Big+Bang and tell them to click on it and wait. After pausing a few seconds to allow the message to sink in, the site will send them on to the search they need to do. Anonymous author, we salute you!

i don't know what they are talking about!

Hooligan Bear


Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

jesus h. christ

So Blogger has now installed the nice little Next Blog button at the top of the screen. This is an amusing way to browse, until you stumble into a tragedy like this.

the essential supplies

OK... so after a couple of shopping trips, I now have most of the items I need for this whole thesis writing lark. Among the highlights:

- paper plates and plastic cutlery (not environmentally friendly I know, but prevents using dish-washing as a work avoidance tactic)

- St. John's wort - it kept me sane revising for exams as an undergraduate

- Bach's Rescue Remedy - I'm no tree-hugging hippy, but I know enough people who swear by this stuff that I'm willing to give it a shot. Anyway, it contains alcohol

- Nytol - the woman in Boots pointed out it is not suitable for long term use. I informed her I only intend to use it as long as it takes me to write my thesis. She sold it to me anyway...

- several reams of paper ("borrowed" from the lab)

- lots of coffee.

What else do I need??!

(The first person to suggest "a miracle" gets it!)

some other time

Initially, I had been planning to head up to London tonight to see Saint Silas play up in Soho. I'm just pissed off that I'm too tired to even consider the drive. Bummer... maybe next time :-(

sneaking etc.

It took me a couple of hours to drive down the coast to the town where Sean had been working for the day. Technically, it was his day off, but he’d been doing some cash-in-hand labouring work with a friend. He looked cute as ever when I met up with him, but I was a little disappointed that he’d changed out of his hot and sweaty work clothes!

Anyway, we went for a few drinks, along with Tim and Sarah (his work buddy & girlfriend), and their baby girl (who is Sean’s God-daughter.) It was lovely, if not a little weird to see him again after so long. It was also a nice relief to chat to people about things that weren't science.

Anyway, Sean had asked his parents if one of his “friends from university” could stay over. I’m not sure if he mentioned me being a frustrated 30-year-old postgrad. They had very kindly, if somewhat naively, made up the guest bedroom. We didn't arrive back there until after his parents had gone to bed... we snuck upstairs and sat in a converted loft with a duvet covering the stairs, drinking wine, making out (quietly), and burning incense while smoking weed (and blowing the smoke out of the window.) Maybe this is what it would have been like if I had been in a possession of a life when I was 15… I never got to sneak around much as a teenager, so it was all rather fun...

The next morning, I went to see Sean in action at his regular job. It was amusing enough that I would love to describe it here… but it would be way too specific. Let's just say that it involved bubbles!

I don’t know if I’ll see him again… but here’s hoping. That's the kind of fun I could use on a regular basis, and I truly can't think of a better use for half a tank of petrol.

just for the hell of it!

I really need a break away from my computer, and my pathetic attempts at writing. Earlier, I went to the main department to check on a few things, and drop back-up discs into one of the labs. I ran into a couple of fellow postgrads; I could barely stop talking to them. I think the isolation is getting to me.

So, after a series of phone calls and text messages, I'm heading off tomorrow on a mini road trip... to visit Sean. It should be fun, but I have no idea what to expect! I know where he lives. And I know that post graduation he's moved back in with his parents (...who he describes as "a bit prudish.") I just don't know if I'm going to be sneaking out of the spare bedroom and into his, or vice versa. If there is no sneaking to be done, I'm going to be pretty bloody disappointed ;-)

take one head, and bang against wall. repeatedly.

I'm currently feeling pretty despondent. I have well over 2000 images, and by the time I've finished photographing my slides, I suspect this will be in excess of 3000. There are so many ways I could organise them that I would rather sit and cry then look at them.

Everlasting love to the first person that sends me chocolate ;-)

panic stations

I knew sooner or later, it would happen. The panic has finally set in. I was going to head in to the lab this morning, and take yet more photo's of yet more damn slides. Instead, I spent the day trying to reorganise everything, so that I can start making a proper attempt to write this damn thesis.

I think it was talking to Catherine yesterday that made me realise quite the task I've been set. I don't know if I'll make it or not, but at the moment, it just feels like a challenge. I'm sure this will change pretty damn soon.

I'm not sure what comes after panic. Desperation, I suspect...

bastard

I woke up late this morning, having fallen asleep on the sofa some time before 4 am. This is pretty early for me to be getting to sleep at the moment. As I lay there, almost awake, my mind wandered to sex, as it frequently does. I thought about a cute rocker-type I like, and started to imagine him kissing me. I fantasised about his hands wandering... then I thought of Sean. And I felt nothing. In my mind I could picture him perfectly. Still I felt nothing. Impressed with myself, I just thought, "wow... I must be totally over him..."

I got up, put the kettle on and checked my phone. I had two new text messages... both of which had come in around 11.30 pm last night; for some reason I hadn't heard the alert. I saw Sean's name in my inbox, and started to wonder why he would text. Normally, if he has anything to say, he'll call. His message was as follows:

Feeling drunk and horny and i hope not taking the piss but I've got the day free tomorrow if you fancied a trip to **** ******.

Before I calmed down, I rang my sister and ranted.

Anyway. I called him. And I was restrained... I don't actually remember using the words wanker or bastard. Upshot: he's not getting any today. I would sincerely have liked to tell him to fuck off, however, he's cute, I like him... and he has his talents ;-)

Some other time.

a wonderful wedding

Today was the wedding of Caffeine Fairy and Chomper99... lovely people, good friends of my sister, and former custodians of my current piece of shit car.

The ceremony, and subsequent picnic, took place on a woodland clearing atop a Hampshire hill. Aside from getting a little displaced (I'm reluctant to actually say I was lost) in Winchester, I eventually found the venue. This was after asking successive people I saw to confirm that it was St. Catherine's Hill I was about to climb... I had a nasty vision of making it to the top, then seeing the wedding party a couple of hilltops along. On a rather warm and humid day, that would have been seriously depressing!

The happy couple had already undergone a more formal (not to mention legally binding) wedding about a month ago. This was a less conventional ceremony, conducted in front of their friends. It was relaxed, and the vows were beautifully touching. This may sound like an odd way to describe it, but it just felt so much more real than some of the weddings I've been to before.

Especially for me, it was a lovely ceremony. I've never been the kind of girl that dreams of my wedding day. If I'm going to spend that kind of money, I'd rather use it towards something useful. I feel kind of fortunate that my sister did the Big White Wedding Thing, thus removing any pressure from me to follow the same path. I hear there is a nice little drive-thru wedding chapel in Vegas... far more my style. Or maybe now I'd consider a nice little hill in Hampshire...

the results are in...

...and apparently, I am The Playstation. Amusing, if nothing else!

Take the test. You know you want to...

not what I need right now

I have a list of dive kit I need to buy, and then I have a list of things I would like. This definitely belongs on the latter... but what a cute gadget!

It would also help to prevent a repeat of what was one of the most disturbing experiences I've ever had while diving. It was early morning, and I was happily swimming along, following a group of pufferfish with a video camera. For the entire duration of the dive (c. 60 minutes), I had "Oops, I did it again" by Britney Spears going round and round and round in my head. Hell on Earth!

boy oh fucking boy...

... There are some people who just have way too much time on their hands. And whoever is responsible for this site is one of them.

By the way, I would like to point out that I was looking for something else.

I just knew it...

I finally hauled my arse out of bed, and headed off to the lab. There was a letter for me in the hall that I couldn’t easily identify, so I opened it on the spot. Other girls get love letters. I get a notice from the local Constabulary notifying me that they plan to prosecute me for speeding. Joy oh fucking joy. I guess there was film in the speed camera after all.

It just all seems rather petty... OK, so I was doing 55 mph on a 40 mph stretch of road, but I was less that 100 meters off the motorway signs (70 mph zone), and there was nothing on my inside. I bitched about it when I got to the lab, and a few other people said they been busted by the same camera. Apparently, it was only installed after some guy was killed trying to cross the road at that spot. If you knew the area, you'd understand why I heard this, and just thought of Darwin.

Add that to the parking ticket I got on Sunday, and this is going to be an expensive month for my poor old car. Not what I need right now...

Girls' night in

Late Saturday, Millie arrived for a girls' night in. We drank wine and chatted, while half watching The Private Gladiator on DVD (that someone had loaned to me.) It's kind of like the Russell Crowe film, but with far more flesh and lashings of laughable sex. I never managed to watch enough of it in one go to discover if it actually had a plot.

I showed Millie the Wish Lists I had typed up. She did actually deny suggesting one or two of her, erm, "aspirations" ... Unfortunately, I can't find the original to dispute them ;-)

Anyway, on Sunday morning Millie showed me the online dating site she currently subscribes to. The number of people I know who do this is, I think, proof that any stigma attached to using dating agencies has now evaporated. It did feel weird, though. Looking at people's profiles and deciding purely on what was there whether or not you were interested. It almost felt like shopping on eBay. Not the way I had ever imagined trying to meet someone, but when I start earning money, I may have to give it a go. I did immediately fall in lust with some guy who had lived most of his life in New Zealand. Unfortunately, I somehow suspect I'm not what he's looking for, and he now lives in Essex. Bummer.

Friday night

On Friday night, a group of us headed out to a local bar to have celebratory drinks with a friend. She has recently managed to complete her MPhil with her sanity intact (well... as intact as it ever was!) Anyway, the bar is a pleasant enough place, even at the weekend; the DI (detritus index) is - for this town at least - mercifully low. Thankfully, she had delayed the gathering until the last working day of the month (or Payday, as it is otherwise known). This probably helped to ensure a respectable turnout.

I had worn my now seemingly infamous Little Green Slut Skirt, partly in the hope that a cute postgrad from my department would be there. He wasn’t. Its percentage success rate is dropping every time I wear it; it now stands at just 33.33 %.

Anyway, during one of the more interesting conversations of the evening, Alan (an academic member of staff) pointed out to me, that when I become a postdoc, I could have my own tutor group. He knows I’m single. I’m also on good terms with the woman who organises which tutees get assigned to each group. He suggested I wait until we have their photo’s, then try to “arrange” to have the better-looking male students given to me! I’m still unsure as to whether or not sequestering the impressionable first year students is contrary to university policy. At least I won't be an academic member of staff...

When I started as a postgrad, they made us do this poxy little PGCert in Scientific Research Methods. Some of it was of a little use, but most of it was a total waste of time. They told us about the university policy on Staff/Student relationships. I guess it is all rather civilised. I get the impression that at US universities, any type of non-work related relationships are banned. Here, it is permitted, but you have to formally declare your relationship. I thought about my supervisor, who is a very nice man, but just came to the conclusion that if anything happened between us (it won't), I certainly wouldn't “declare” it; it would be a secret I would carry to my grave :-)

Should I be ashamed of this?

My life has been rated:
See what your rating is!
Created by bart666

Apparently: "To quote the BBFC: The R18 category is a special and legally restricted classification primarily for explicit videos of consenting sex between adults. Such videos may be supplied to adults only in licensed sex shops, of which there are currently about 90 in the UK.

You are filthy. Congratulations!"

I'm just slightly disturbed that I out-scored my brother-in-law

Personal Soundtracks

A little while ago, a post on my sister’s Livejournal page concerned personal theme tunes. Scrolling through my newly compiled MP3 library, I got thinking about various songs, and what they mean to me. So this list is my compilation, kind of a soundtrack to my life. I can’t be bothered to add any kind of a biography to my profile, and besides, for better or worse, I think this says more about me.

The songs are broadly in chronological order. I don’t think they fully reflect my taste in music – the songs that stick are not always the classics - but it should give you some idea.

The Camera Never Lies – Bucks Fizz
OK, so the song sucks little green monkey dicks, but it was the first record I ever bought. I was eight years old and knew no better.

I’ve Been Losing You – a-ha
Sucks less. I used to love a-ha when I was about 12 (it was always Mags, not Morten that did it for me…) and my long-suffering sister took me twice to see them live at Hammersmith. Scored major cool-points at school.

Bad Medicine – Bon Jovi
I loved this song from the first time I heard it, and it probably did more than any other to get me into rock music. Although I did go off the band (they got poppier the same time my tastes got somewhat heavier) this song still reminds me of my high school friends and the gigs we went to.

Piece of Me – Skid Row
Currently designated as my personal theme tune, this song kicks arse.
I loved Skid Row, and the first time I saw them live was at the Marquee. I was 15, and had never seen anything quite like it before. They strutted onstage to the sounds of They’re Coming To Take Me Away, having conquered Milton Keynes the previous day while supporting Bon Jovi. My parents didn’t want me heading home by myself (the fact it was a licensed club, and I was therefore three years underage didn’t appear to bother them); I was only allowed to go after my sister kindly agreed to come and pick me up. By the end of the (fucking amazing) gig, I was covered in my sweat, sweat from the audience, sweat from the band (I was right down the front), beer, water that had been thrown over me, water that had been spat over me, and God-knows what else. My sister was standing in the foyer as I staggered out, she just looked at me in a what-the-fuck-happened-to-you kind of way. With a stupid grin on my face, I told her the 6’ 4” then-lead singer had stage-dived onto me. I have some vague recollection of her eyeballs rolling.

Paint it Black – The Rolling Stones
My Mum kindly took me to see the Stones at Wembley Stadium when I was 16. It was a great day, and I always loved this song… and it kind of reminds me of my wardrobe.

Harvester of Sorrow – Metallica
Pretty much sums up my time at Sixth Form College.

Killed by Death – Motorhead
You get home, and you’re pissed off and you just want to rip someone’s head off? Try playing this instead. Perfect for anger management. Or try this.

Father Time – Richie Sambora
Autumn 1992. I was 18 years old, and had no idea what I wanted to do. So the week after my sister’s wedding, I got on a plane and headed off to travel around the US for a few months. This song is a pretty cheesy ballad. It certainly wasn’t the first song off the album to grab me, but I kept listening to it over and over as the plane approached JFK. Even though I listened to the album (Stranger in this Town) frequently while on long bus journeys – it was perfect late-night road music - I always associated this particular track with the excitement and anticipation of arriving, alone, in a new place. I had an amazing three months, and when I reluctantly got on the plane to return to London, I put on my walkman, thinking it was at the start of the tape. I immediately heard the intro to this song; it brought back what felt like a thousand memories, and I promptly burst into tears.

Little Wing – Skid Row
I love this version of the Hendrix classic. It was great Greyhound music, and I loved listening to it, late at night, watching the world go by, and feeling strangely peaceful.

I Wanna Be Your Dog – The Stooges
I first heard The Stooges while getting somewhat stoned in a LA hostel. I love this song. So much. You know that question you sometimes get asked? If you could go back in time and be someone else, who would it be? For me, there is no debate: Iggy Pop, late sixties (that’s the decade, not his age, by the way.) Sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll… what more could you want?! And he’s not dead.

Try a Little Tenderness – The Commitments Soundtrack
To help me get off the beaten track, I opted to do a three-week tour with a company called Trek-America. One minibus, thirteen youngish back-packer types and a tour leader called Scott - who loved The Commitments Soundtrack. To this day, he remains one of only three guys I’ve ever really come close to falling for. I said goodbye to him in the car park of a Los Angeles hotel. I wish I could remember exactly what he said to me. He told me he had recently met a woman in Vegas, but implied that in other circumstances, there could have been something between us. Anyway, he wins my prize for The Most Ambiguous Goodbye.

Bad to the Bone – George Thorogood
November ’92. We waited until dark, dressed in black, then snuck up onto a not-quite-finished bridge over the Mississippi, just outside of New Orleans. Had bungee cord attached… I would like to say I jumped, but after repeatedly chickening out, I lost my balance and fell off the edge of the bridge. Undignified, but fun. The adrenaline was still flowing when we got back to the van, and this song was playing when the radio came on. Always reminds me of a great night.

Would? – Alice in Chains
I love this song, but it will always bring back memories of New York, Christmas 1992. A guy called Neil, who I’d met in a bar after a long day shopping, asked me out. I wanted to see Warrior Soul play at The Limelight, so I took him as my date. That night, I got what are still the best kisses of my life. We kissed in the queue to get into the club. We kissed standing down near the front of the stage, while the DJ played this song. We kissed afterwards. I dream of someone kissing me like that again. People have come close (in some cases, very close), but never quite hit the same mark. I did, however, learn things from Neil. For example, if a guy can’t see you on a Tuesday night ‘cause he has to go to Narcotics Anonymous as a condition of his parole, don’t expect too much from him.

I Want To Take You Higher – Sly and the Family Stone
New years eve ’94. New York City. This song just reminds me of the bar I spent the night in. It was in the East Village, and had previously been a toy shop. The bar owners decided to keep the theme, so named the bar Babyland. They had toy chests instead of tables. Cute place, and cute date… an Italian-American called Joe.

Enola Gay – OMD
1995 - Was never really too into the song, but it reminds me of a weekend in ’95 when I decided on a whim to fly to Madrid to see Skid Row. I can’t/won’t go into the details here, but it was 48 hours of over-indulgence and debauchery. What I wouldn’t give for a little bit of that now. Oh, and the gig was good, too!

I Wanna Get Some – Warrior Soul
Do I, fuck. Whenever I hear this, I remember all the gigs I used to go to with Mandy (mostly Skid Row, Warrior Soul, White Zombie and Marilyn Manson). We used to travel all over the country, misbehaving en route. We’ve since lost touch, but they were great years.

If It Makes You Happy – Sheryl Crow
Another contender for personal theme tune. Although I did initially mis-hear the lyrics. She sang: put on a poncho. I heard: put on a porn show. I just thought, hell yeah! It’s a shame, really.

Just in Lust – The Wildhearts
Reminds me of a drum-tech I once knew. ‘nuff said.

The Fairytale of New York – The Pogues w/ Kirsty MacColl
At Christmas, my then-boss used to put on cheesy compilations of fucking awful carols. When she went to the bank, I used to swap her CDs for either this or Leonard Cohen. Fortunately, she did have a sense of humour.

Like Swimming – Morphine
My ex-boss also turned me onto Morphine. It started when she bought the soundtrack to Get Shorty, which included a couple of their songs. We went to see them at The Garage in ’97, and it was one of the best gigs I’ve ever been to. Mark walked onstage, and in the sexiest voice imaginable, said “Hi, we’re Morphine. We’re from Boston.” If they'd walked straight off stage again, I would have been disappointed, but I wouldn’t have felt cheated out of my £8.00 admission. Mark Sandman, RIP.

Bionic – Placebo
Maybe this is not something I should say here, but fuck it… I’ve already made enough implications about battery-operated toys. When I used to live with my parents, their bedroom was next door to mine. They used to get pissed off about the volume of my late-night music… basically it was a cover so they wouldn’t hear me buzzing the bean, so to speak. Metallica was always useful, as their songs are pretty long, but there was nothing quite like Placebo. Harder, faster… indeed! And I still can’t help smiling when I hear the intro to Come Home…

Only Happy When It Rains – Garbage
A serious contender for personal theme tune.

Riders on the Storm – The Doors
I used to programme this on repeat play as a cure for insomnia; I think it was a combination of being tucked up in a warm bed while listening to the bass line and the rain. When I told my (then) boss, she bought me a CD that just had recordings of thunderstorms. I used to love it, but after living in a bed-sit where the roof used to leak over my bed, the sound of the rain is now less comforting.

To The Moon and Back – Savage Garden
Being a water-baby, I had wanted to learn to dive since I tried SCUBA in a pool when I was 10. I finally learnt while in Bali – I was 24. The whole holiday was more beautiful than I could have anticipated, and changed my life forever. I still can’t decide if I like this song, but it was playing everywhere I went, and will always being back the fondest memories of Kuta

Romeo and Juliet – Dire Straits
I spent the summer of 2000 in the Azores. One night, some of the local students took us on a night-time tour of the island we were staying on. Dire Straits was on the car stereo as we parked up on the side of a volcano, looking down on the lights of Ponta Delgada and up at the stars. By dawn, we were sitting on the eastern side of the island, having a barbeque and waiting for the sun to come up. Great times.

Man! I Feel Like a Woman! – Shania Twain
Man! I hate this song! But I also like it in a strange way, as it always reminds me of the pub I worked in for a few months while I was an undergraduate. Just about everyone in the place would stop trying to bullshit each other long enough to sing along with the chorus.

Black Coffee – All Saints
This song takes me back to the bed-sit where I lived as an undergraduate. I used to play this song when I was revising for my final year exams. I never paid attention to all the lyrics, but the “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here” just made me remember that however stressed I was, I was in a situation I had put myself in, and I wouldn’t swap it for anything… I wanted my degree.

Dames – 42nd Street (cast recording)
I saw 42nd Street in the West End when I was about 13. Catherine Zeta Jones played Peggy Sawyer, and aside from my Mum signing Lullaby of Broadway all the way home, I loved it. Early 2002, I spent 10 days in New York. I heard there was a new production of the show on Broadway, so I went to check out the ticket prices. I loved the concept of "rush tickets." Basically, they hold the front row for VIPs, and if none show, they sell off the $100 seats to students – for $20 a shot. My seat was right in the middle of the front row. The show was totally over the top, but amazing. I just sat there with a big smile on my face throughout, then floated back to my hotel feeling totally blissed out.

Billie Jean – Michael Jackson
I never really liked this song, but now it reminds me of Neil, a 22-year old from Virginia. We were on the same bus between Noosa and Hervey Bay in Queensland last year. We got chatting during a meal break, and he asked me if I’d like to meet up with him that evening for a drink. He was incredibly cute – I just thought he was being friendly. I’ve never been able to tell if a guy is remotely interested in me. I don’t tend to dance, but the way he grabbed me when this song came on left me little choice. I didn’t pick up on the fact that I was being picked up until he had his hand down the back of my skirt and his tongue in my ear. As certain people never tire of telling me, I am truly useless.

Love Shack – The B52s
I always liked this song, but now it reminds me of being in Australia last year. Got in a plane, ascended to 14 000 feet, and was strapped to a nice man called Meru. He proceeded to throw us out of the “perfectly good aircraft” over Mission Beach, doing multiple somersaults at my request! Serious contender for the biggest ever high. On the drive back to Cairns, this played on the radio. The adrenaline had worn off to leave a calm, playful confidence. I’m normally pretty reserved and shy, but I just wanted to find a pub, so I could put his on the jukebox (it’s always on a jukebox), sing along and dance on the bar.

Replica – The Ga Ga’s
Last November, Skid Row played their first UK dates in eight years. It had been so long, I didn’t expect to get the same kick out of seeing them live, but I enjoyed the London gig so much I went to see them in Cardiff. It was an interesting night for many, many reasons… but I remember feeling a little strange lusting over the rather young looking lead singer of The Ga Ga’s. I felt actively disturbed when I found out he was 20, and almost dirty when I learnt he was from Somerset (...you know how I feel about that place).

I don’t know yet if there will be songs that remind me of this period of my life. I suspect a couple of chillout compilations will forever remind me of the taste of strong coffee and stress.

Time will tell.

Wish-lists

I sometimes have days where I realise my priorities are not quite what they should be.  The most recent case of this involved a rather drunken wish-list that I made with an old school friend.  I’ll call her Millie.  She came to visit me sometime around the new year, and at her suggestion, we made a list of things that we wanted to do.  I recently found the list in my study, and decided to type it up in preparation for her next visit.

Oh, boy!

My wish list started out sensibly enough:
 
1- Learn to ride - I’ve always wanted to learn to ride horses.  I’ve done the pony-trekking-on-holiday thing, but I could always picture myself riding alone through the American southwest… with GPS and a satellite phone, naturally.
2 - Dive with manta rays.  Hopefully, next proper holiday. 
3 – Three-in-a-bed sex romp with two rather cute rock singers I like (they shall remain nameless) - it's never going to happen, but this was never solely about realism!
4 - Own a flat in NYC, preferably with a single, horny fireman next door
5 – Have dick for a week
6 – Get my PhD…

What’s wrong with this picture?!  Really?  I’m not sure being drunk counts as much of a defence.

Anyway, as a breakdown of this, 10 out of my 20 wishes involved sex (for Millie, this was 16 out of 33).  Among the non-smutty suggestions, Millie wishes to watch more sunsets, own a vineyard and be able to read peoples’ minds.  I want to get my skydiving qualification, and write a screenplay. 

Time will tell.

MP3 heaven

Almost done! 

With the exception of a few discs I appear to have mislaid, I have now succeeded in ripping almost my entire CD collection to MP3.  At least the decent tracks, anyway.  I appear to have far too many CDs that contain only one track worth keeping; I really should do something about that.

Including files recently acquired from iTunes, as well as a couple of other sources (you know who you are...), the current total stands at 2132 tracks, taking up 11.47 GB of disc space.

And yes, I know I'm supposed to be finishing my lab-work and writing a thesis.

Bit of a shame, that...

After having a couple of drinks last night, I called Sean (who recently became the cute-graduate).  I've spoken to him a few times over the last couple of weeks, and he's always nice to chat to... but, will I get to see him again?  After talking to him for about half an hour, his mobile battery died before I had a chance to proposition him.  So I sent him a text.  I was tipsy, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I re-read it this morning, and winced.  I forwarded it to a friend, who among other things, said I should get 10 out of 10 for directness.  I got home after work and waited, wondering if I would receive a phone call or a restraining order.  Anyway, he called... and told me he was rather hung up on a girl he's been seeing on and off for a while.  It may have been bullshit, who knows?  But, he couldn't have been nicer about it, which I appreciated to say the least.  I just asked him if there were any nice guys in the year below him.  He gave me a couple of names of guys I should look out for... who knows?

I'm only pissed off as it would have been nice and easy.  Finding men around here that bear any resemblance to human beings is not always easy.   Please... wish me luck!!

Food, glorious food...

It’s my Mum’s 65th Birthday on Monday, and I’m unsure if that makes me or her feel older.  Anyway, in honour of this, I headed off to cow country (Somerset, to the uninitiated) to spend the night at my parent’s house.  I arrived as my sister was whipping my Dad at Scrabble… It’s a long running feud; I tend to leave them to it, as word games are really not my thing.  I prefer a challenge that involves untamed violence and aggression.  Like air hockey, for example.

On Saturday night, we walked to a local hotel for a lovely dinner.  It’s a reasonably upmarket place (although probably less upmarket than it thinks it is), so I was just relieved that my Dad decided against giving me any shit for wearing a skanky old pair of Converse.  Anyway, dinner was lovely, and for a student, dining out on salmon is a real treat.

As they only have one spare bed, I was out-ranked by my sister and brother-in-law, thus relegated to sleeping on the sofa.  Normally, this wouldn’t be too much of a problem, but I woke up about 5.30 am, and couldn’t get back to sleep.  In the end, I gave up trying, and turned on the TV instead.  My parents have digital satellite, which includes around 20 music video channels.  Whenever I visit, I sit and repeatedly flick through all of them, and it drives my Dad crazy.  The biggest monstrosity I encountered was Gene Simmons (of Kiss) massacring The Prodigy’s Firestarter.  I couldn’t decide which was worse, his version of the song, or the video – filled with bikini-clad, silicon-enhanced blondes – which was so tacky and OTT that even David Lee Roth would probably have thought it too much.

On Sunday, my sister had kindly volunteered to show off her culinary skills by cooking a wonderful Sunday lunch for us all.  It beat the hotel hands down, and I think she was rather chuffed when I told her that it was the best meal I’d had in a very long time.  However, given my general ineptitude in the kitchen, this is hardly surprising.  Most of my meals tend to involve rice, pasta or toast, and without fail lack any kind of ambition.  I think part of the problem is living on my own, there's no-one to even try to impress.

Bikini Time

No, I’m not off to the beach.  I just think this is what I’m going to have to resort to if the temperature in the lab doesn’t drop and the powers that be still expect me to wear a lab coat.  It's not even that hot outside.

Christ!  I mean it’s not like I wear that much clothing anyway.

Geek.

OK, I'm a girl, and as such I shouldn't get so excited about these things... but I just got the coolest little USB Flash Drive.  It's tiny and purple and it's cute.  And it stores 256 MB of data.  After speaking with my supervisor, he said I could buy it off my research contract, as I am likely to use it mostly for backing up and transporting my fledgling thesis.  I just hope the trip to the computer supplies company doesn't end up costing me more than I bargained for; I think I got flashed by a speed camera on the way there.  I'm not sure that my defence of "I was almost on the motorway" will count for much...

To add to my current the-day-doesn't-suck feeling, my copy of Saint Silas Intersession's debut single/EP finally arrived, kindly packaged with some random freebies (that I have yet to listen to). 

I suspect my neighbours are sick of it already :-)

Bloody Trailfinders...

This town is dull, I'm bored with work and I don't have much money to do anything interesting.  And I'm all to aware of all of this.  Typical then, that this morning I should get the new Trailfinders brochure through the post... complete with wonderfully enticing pictures of New Zealand on the cover.  I  couldn't even bear to open it, I just threw it in the bin, and resigned myself to several more months of this poxy little town.  (Or "big, exciting city" as some of the country-folk I know think of it... Christ, sometimes I swear I can still smell the cow shit on their shoes...)

Anyway, just to remind myself that there is a world beyond these island shores, I scanned some of the photo's I took in Australia last year.

This was taken on a safety stop after a dive on the Great Barrier Reef:



 
Oh, and while I was there, I found Nemo:

 

iTunes

OK, so since I got my super duper computer upgrade, I have been working pretty hard.  Mostly scanning my photo's (from work, of course), straightening them and trying to sort them into some kind of order.  That, and trying to rip my entire CD collection to MP3.
 
I downloaded the Apple software for iTunes... and it is pretty impressive.  I used to have RealPlayer, but it crashed without fail when I asked it to do anything vaguely taxing.  I've also tried HMV's dowload service, but it sucked without comparison.  By contrast, the Apple software is fast, user friendly and so far (touch wood) hasn't given me any kind of grief.
 
As I went through my CD collection, I edited out the tracks that I knew I would never, ever listen to again (unless I do actually go to Hell).  I also identified certain "mistakes" that are going straight to eBay...  although there are some I may actually be too embarrassed to sell.  The Quireboys being a case in point (in my defence... I would point out that the £1.99 sale sticker is still on it.)

Listening to: everything :-)

Histology Hell

I tried.  I tried hard.  I tried everything.  I've just spent an unproductive afternoon in our histology lab.  Normally, being frustrated and covered in wax would conjure up rather more pleasant images... not today. 
 
For those not in the know... I have to embed my samples in hot wax, let the wax cool, then section them on a microtome.  If you're good (and I do have good days), the sections come off in a nice long ribbon, and you can mount them onto slides, ready for staining.  Other days, nothing works, and if you are like me, you finish up just wanting to break things.  That is usually the point where I know it is time to leave.  Part of the problem is that there are just too many things that can go wrong.  Troubleshooting loses every appeal when you've tried every remedy you know at least twice, and then have lost your samples in a pile of wax shavings on the bench.  If only crying would help...
 
Listening to: The Chemical Brothers

Graduation week

It's that time of year again.  Lots and lots of students excitedly wandering around the university wearing rather silly looking gowns, and begrudgingly posing for the photo's demanded by their oh-so-proud parents. 

Can it really be three years since I suffered this?

Feeling: old

It finally arrived...

...my scanner, that is.  Not bad, considering I ordered it about five weeks ago.  Unfortunately, the bureaucratic bullshit that surrounds this university means that you can only order certain equipment from "approved suppliers."  It doesn't matter that they are rarely the cheapest, and that the order has to get bounced around about three departments before even being placed.  Anyway, it scans just about everything, so I can finally get around to sorting out the four hundred or so photo's I have.
 
I also got my copy of Paint Shop Pro. I'm getting used to it, but after having version six for about four years, my first reaction to the new version (eight) was "aahhhhhh... they've moved everything."  That aside, the straighten function has probably stopped me from going insane, and I've come to the conclusion that the clone tool is my new best friend.  It rocks.

Brittle stars

There are things I particularly like about what I do. For one thing, not many people have an electron microscope they can play with.

I recently took pictures of some brittle stars that the undergraduates brought back after a recent field trip. I think they assumed I was going to put them in a tank and take care of the poor little things. Instead, I stuck them in glutaraldehyde.

Never mind.

(Both the pictures are of the underside of the animals)

More pictures...

Yep, I'm still playing with the camera...

I have no idea exactly what this was, but I thought it was kind of cute ;-)




And waterlillies are rather cheesy, but what the hell!

The computer queen

My sister recently acquired some good second-hand computers though a friend. And like the angel she is (I say that with a certain smirk on my face), she earmarked one of them for me. God knows I needed the upgrade… If my old computer was a person, it would have been my Dad: old, getting slower by the week, and prone to being somewhat grumpy and obnoxious.

Anyway, yesterday I stuck the poor old thing in the back of my car and drove back to London, grateful that my technically proficient sister was going to handle the installation on a new operating system and swapping over of various components. A part of me likes to think that maybe I could have attempted this… if only I had three days to spare, a Dummies Guide, and a large bottle of Valium.

Anyway, after raiding her kitchen and chatting for a while, I left her the Windows 2000, Office and Paint Shop Pro discs to wrestle with while I went out to play. I feel obliged to point out, that I did at least have the decency to feel some guilt about this.

I hauled my arse across town to go and see the wonderful Saint Silas Intercession at The Garage. The gig was fantastic (as expected). I had only seen them once before, supporting Placebo at The Brixton Academy… they were even better than I remembered.

They call their music Rhythm & Balls, which doesn’t fully do it justice, but it’s a description I cannot better. My taste in music has diversified one hell of a lot over recent years, but if there’s one thing (musically) guaranteed to get me off, it’s loud, ballsy guitars. Cool lyrics are a bonus, but if a band get the guitars right, I wouldn’t care if they sang their way through the local telephone directory.

If you’d like to hear them, click here, then go to the audio section.

Anyway, I got back to Bibliogirl’s house to find the computer and her sanity both still relatively intact (I had been tempted to check the house for baseball bats before I left, just in case). Anyway, we chatted some more, she teased me about the amount of porn on my hard drive (I honestly thought I’d deleted it), I thanked her again then left to drive home. I got back about 2.30 am, and probably should have gone to bed. Instead, I hooked the computer back up, and re-installed my modem. Wow… I’ve only just realised quite what a geek that makes me.

Why?

As I left the lab this evening, I ran into a friend of mine. When I first told him (with some surprise) that I did have feelings for Sean, his generous response was “welcome to the human race.” He’s kind enough to always make the right noises, but I suspect he views the whole saga with a greater amount of vague amusement and boredom than sympathy. In all honestly, I can’t say I blame him. I later ranted to him via text message about how, above everything else, it was just downright rude that Sean hadn’t called.

I think I realised deep down that I was unlikely to hear from Sean again some time ago, but it was really only over the weekend that I felt totally fine with it. Typical then, that the little bastard decided to phone me tonight. He was polite, and funny (oh, and he has a damn sexy voice). The conversation was clean (almost), and it was good to hear from him.

I just wish I knew if he really called to chat, or if he thought he might run into me at his imminent graduation and wanted to avoid looking like an arsehole.

Jesus… I am turning into Bridget Jones. Will someone please get the shotgun at the ready?

Heaven in a cardboard box

My sister called me last week, and asked me for the postal address of the lab. She said she had some things to send me that "probably" wouldn't fit through my letterbox at home. She wasn't kidding.

It's probably worth pointing out that the local postal workers are none too bright; they delivered the rather large box to another building, hence it arrived a day or two later than expected via the internal mail. Never mind, though. Opening that box had to be the coolest start to a Monday morning ever.

Removal of the lid revealed a label, stating this was the "Why the Fuck Did I Ever Think a PhD Was a Good Idea" emergency survival kit. Anyway, I delved in, to find the following:

-One copy of MagCulture: New Magazine Design
-One copy of ELLE Decoration (both good distraction material)
-Half a bottle of vodka (always appreciated)
-One packet of Rocket Fuel coffee (looks lethal, have yet to try it)
-One packet of Pro-Plus (more caffeine!)
-Herbal anti-stress remedy (I'm guessing she couldn't get Valium...)
-Herbal sleep-helping pills (as my sister pointed out... this may be incompatible with some of the above)
-Large packet of fun-size chocolate bars (shared around the lab, although I kept most of the Rolos and the Milky Bar Buttons :-)
-Six tubes of Smarties (if we still had project students in the lab, I'd make them remove the brown ones)
-Five bars of assorted Lindt chocolate (hyperglycaemic shock, anyone?)
-Packet of highlighter pens (always useful)
-Packet of glitter gel pens (for when I'm getting way too sensible)
-Two packets of batteries (my sister says: for a girl's best friend... Fortunately not many people asked!)
-Some CDs (varying from Apocalyptica to Aqua via Irish Drinking Songs)
-A calendar (modified somewhat for my circumstances)



I quickly set about showing it to everybody I could find. This tended to generate one (or both) of two responses:
- "Has your sister done a PhD?" (The answer, unsurprisingly, is yes)
- "You have the coolest sister in the world."

I am inclined to agree.

Not an exciting weekend (unless you're Greek)

Saturday was spent tidying up and trying to schedule what little lab time I have left. I think my parents realised I was rather pissed off when I spoke to them on the phone, so they drove down to visit me on Sunday. The all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet did help, but I think I only cheered up when I beat my Dad 7-5 7-4 at air hockey in a local arcade. It's just a shame that he's not getting any younger, and is on medication for his diabetes and blood pressure. It kind of cheapens the victory.

Anyway, he's always been an over-competitive bastard, and I won ;-)

On the upside, Greece beat Portugal in the final of Euro 2004. We have a few Greeks at the lab; I don't know if tomorrow they will still be happy, or nursing monster-sized hangovers.

Ho hum...

I have now reached the point where I can't tell any longer if I'm bored or depressed. There is a fine line between the two around here... I am by now quite possibly both.

Science by it's nature can be rather repetitive, but I've spent the last few weeks photographing and fixing embryos. And before anyone objects, they are not human, or indeed any other species that people get particularly emotive about. It was fun for a while, but sitting by myself in a little room with a couple of microscopes and a crappy CD player for company is starting to take its toll.

I just want this to be over.

Listening to: Stranger in this Town - Richie Sambora
Craving: chocolate... lots and lots of chocolate
In need of: a big hug, lots of sleep, a holiday and sex

On the upside...
- my ever wonderful sister has acquired some second-hand computers, and has promised to send one of them down to me; it should be one hell of an improvement on what I currently have at home
- our computer techie department have finally got me my copy of Paintshop Pro version 8 (my supervisor thinks I'm going to use it for work... I prefer to design covers for my CD compilations)
- and last, but definitely not least, Saint Silas Intercession are playing the Garage next week :-) Yay!

Like I need an excuse to get out of this town...

Afternoon tea

Earlier this afternoon, I went to have tea and a girly chat with a friend (and fellow postgrad). We sometimes go to a local pub, which may sound a little counter intuitive, but they are probably the cheapest place around for decent-sized mugs of hot drinks. We bitched, mostly about work and men. I think it is safe to say that in different ways, we are somewhat disillusioned with both.

I felt better by the time I left, but mostly as Hannah always reminds me of the old cliche "however badly off you are, there's always someone worse."

I think this officially makes me a bad person.

On another note...

Sean. That cute little bastard Sean. Has he called? Has he fuck...

I've now given up all of the little hope that I had of seeing him again. I keep telling myself, "Oh, fuck it... It's his loss." I'm just not sure I'm convincing myself, let alone anyone else who is familiar with the full story.

I'm scared I'm turning into Bridget Jones. The only thing that is making me feel better are pathetic chick songs. Just not in the manner of sitting on the floor, alone except for the bottle of wine singing along with shitty old Celine Dion songs. Not for me, oh no. I hear the first few bars of anything too whiney or sentimental, and I just want to barf. Violently. I hate these songs; the only kind of emotion they elicit is intense anger. And this anger makes me feel better.

Is this normal?

Panic

For some time now, people have commented on how calm I am. Not for very much longer. My funding runs out in the middle of September, so this provides me with a natural submission date for my thesis... this would worry me a lot less if I had written a little more of it. I was hoping to have the labwork finished by the end of July. This is the last day of June, and I am very aware of just how much more I have to do. I think the panic will truely set in soon.

It doesn't help that I am getting rather bored of the particular work that I am doing at the moment. It seemed like such a good idea when I suggested it. But it involves way too many types of microscopy and photography, and I'm only now realising that I am not very likely to generate all of the data that I had hoped. Bollocks.