It seems odd to me that no matter where I go in life - from high school to college to grad school - I find someone who shares a surprising (should I say disturbing) number of characteristics with me.
When we were 18, Amanda and I had many similarities, but it was only the tip of the iceberg, really, because when I moved on to college, I found Elaine. She and I, even still, have many of the same hobbies, interests, and say the same things at the same time. Dumb things. Things that come out as Grandpa or Dad jokes.
Now, I have Kate to add to this list of crazies. Tonight we decided to come up with a list of our differences, not to create an impasse, but to celebrate the things we don't share, since it seems every time I see her we'll go through this cycle:
Kate: "I like this (where this could be any random thing, idea, or occurrence in the world)."
Me: "Oh! So do I!"
Kate: "Of course you do."
It doesn't even have to be things we Like - it can be dislikes and it can be things that happen to us. Tonight it was that our eyes are almost always red in pictures - you know, the devil red-eye problem.
So, as to our differences, this is the list so far. I will update it from time to time, as we discover more:
- Muppets
Kate loves the Muppets, whereas I do not like them. I do like Fraggle Rock, but that is the extent of my affections. Sometimes I wonder if Kate had the opportunity to be a Muppet, if she would do it. She owns all of their videos, seasons from their TV show, paraphenalia to be sure, and I wouldn't be surprised if she had a few movie soundtracks.
- Avocados
Again, this is something that I dislike and she likes. But this is simple. I don't like avocados or their derivatives. She does.
Granted, there is one other major issue, no, not issue, per se, but difference. I like to think of it as a uniting factor, however, because these characteristics can be grouped under the heading of Food Allergies.
Kate is allergic to wheat, rye, barley and such things.
I am allergic to nuts, peanut butter in particular (which is my favorite food - a later-in-life developed allergy), and sesame products.
Neither allergy is deathly, although we're both convinced that over time, if we were to continue eating our respective black-listed foods, we would die from exposure to the foods.
It's reassuring to have friends just like me. Or at least, almost just like me.
31 August 2006
30 August 2006
Not everyone's perfect
Reading further in the article, I see that Warren Buffet supports population control.
He also, being a major share-holder of Coke stock, drinks up to 15 cokes per day.
He also, being a major share-holder of Coke stock, drinks up to 15 cokes per day.
I found an article on Google about a man who's birthday was today - Warren Buffet.
Warren is estimated to be the 2nd wealthiest man in the world; he's worth $42 billion.
The mini biography stated that in June of this year, Warren committed to give away 85% of his wealth. "[This] is the largest act of charitable giving in United States history," stated The Free Dictionary article.
It also adds that " Despite his immense wealth, Buffett is famous for his unpretentious and frugal lifestyle. He continues to live in the same house in Omaha he bought in 1958 for $31,500." And he only makes about $100,000 annually as a senior executive of Berkshire Hathaway, his company.
I think this is a pretty remarkable man. Rare in today's world - I wonder if my generation could ever churn out someone with so much foresight and such a sense of responsibility to future generations.
Warren is estimated to be the 2nd wealthiest man in the world; he's worth $42 billion.
The mini biography stated that in June of this year, Warren committed to give away 85% of his wealth. "[This] is the largest act of charitable giving in United States history," stated The Free Dictionary article.
It also adds that " Despite his immense wealth, Buffett is famous for his unpretentious and frugal lifestyle. He continues to live in the same house in Omaha he bought in 1958 for $31,500." And he only makes about $100,000 annually as a senior executive of Berkshire Hathaway, his company.
I think this is a pretty remarkable man. Rare in today's world - I wonder if my generation could ever churn out someone with so much foresight and such a sense of responsibility to future generations.
28 August 2006
This little piggie went to market. This little piggie stayed home. This little piggie had roast beef. This little piggie had none. This little piggie
had too many drinks and lost his way home.
Prominent headline in the student paper today:
5 drunken students hospitalized
14 found unconscious or vomiting since Wednesday
As if this is a new occurrence. The article speaks of administrators and councilors pondering whether this indicates an increase in the number of parties on/near campus. I say, these are kids who have no rule-givers and tend to take advantage of that situation.
I'm not condoning debaucherous evenings. I think kids who drink themselves into a coma have problems, the least of which may be they are stupid. It's all about choices, people. Do you want to spend the night on the concrete or asphalt of a parking lot because you drank too much? I can think of at least 100 other places I'd rather be.
The article issues in a new academic year, replete with, as Kate so eloquently put it, "children masquerading as students." I would say, as adults.
I miss the quiet peacefulness of Summer without undergrads. The lack of bass thumping from tinted SUVs speeding down side streets. The lack of slutty outfits on girls hardly old enough to understand the statements they're making. The lack of camaradarie between people who know the secrets of this rural city (this is buried now beneath the human mass of students of every sort). Too many perfectly tanned, manicured, and attired people. Too many to count. Too many to avoid.
I must be a country girl at heart.
Prominent headline in the student paper today:
5 drunken students hospitalized
14 found unconscious or vomiting since Wednesday
As if this is a new occurrence. The article speaks of administrators and councilors pondering whether this indicates an increase in the number of parties on/near campus. I say, these are kids who have no rule-givers and tend to take advantage of that situation.
I'm not condoning debaucherous evenings. I think kids who drink themselves into a coma have problems, the least of which may be they are stupid. It's all about choices, people. Do you want to spend the night on the concrete or asphalt of a parking lot because you drank too much? I can think of at least 100 other places I'd rather be.
The article issues in a new academic year, replete with, as Kate so eloquently put it, "children masquerading as students." I would say, as adults.
I miss the quiet peacefulness of Summer without undergrads. The lack of bass thumping from tinted SUVs speeding down side streets. The lack of slutty outfits on girls hardly old enough to understand the statements they're making. The lack of camaradarie between people who know the secrets of this rural city (this is buried now beneath the human mass of students of every sort). Too many perfectly tanned, manicured, and attired people. Too many to count. Too many to avoid.
I must be a country girl at heart.
21 August 2006
I almost forgot
I love visiting my sister and her family, if for nothing else than the amusement of seeing a household run at a StarTrek warp-like speed.
This week, however, some very strange things have taken place.
First, as is typical, my brother-in-law asked me to step in and work for a day. That's fine - nothing like making a few bucks on vacation. I became receptionist extraordinaire for Forman Motorsport on Friday. Within fifteen minutes of stepping into his office, I got a mind-crushing headache. It felt like my head was swollen to three times it's size, ready to burst. It was a fairly quiet day in the office, so I tried reading a book to make the time pass, but began to feel nauseated as I read. I tried doing some computer work, but the scrolling and page-jumping made me sea-sick.
Emily and the girls brought lunch-manicotti and salad-and I could hardly eat without feeling sick to my stomach. When they left, I couldn't hold my head up. I'd cradle my aching head in my hands or bury it in my arms on the desk, only to find I'd fallen asleep for a few minutes at a time. Not good when you're supposed to be the front face of the business. Car detailers and painters came and went, and I must have looked like I was on drugs. I couldn't hold a decent conversation. I got up at least three times, rushing to the bathroom, sure I was going to lose it. Then I feared fainting, like I did two summers ago at work. My overactive imagination picturing what I'd look like after cracking my skull on the tile floor with no one discovering me for hours.
As soon as Franz and Scott returned, I took off in the loaner Mercedes, making it home in time to crash in bed, where I stayed from 4:30 pm until 8 am the next day.
As if that episode wasn't enough. Yesterday, Em and I wanted to go hiking in the deserty mountains before church. We got up and just as we readied ourselves to leave, my nose started gushing blood. NEVER do I get nosebleeds. I remember once in 2nd grade, that's it.
Around 5:30 that night, I got another.
This morning, as we got ready to hike - another.
3 nosebleeds within 24 hours...what is going on?
Last night, I got up from the dinner table to find that my pajama pants (a gift from Leslie a few years ago) had not only ripped a 3-inch hole in the front (which I've known about for a while) but had also ripped a horizontal line by the back pocket, exposing my backside to the world. Now the nickname I've used for my friends for a few years - Chics, short for Chica - took on an entirely new meaning.
Disconcerting, all of this! I think the nosebleeds have officially freaked Maddie out - though I haven't involved her on purpose. The late-afternoon one yesterday occurred while I was playing with her. There was no hiding it then. And this morning, she found me in my bathroom, holding a kleenex to my nose. "Why, Lana? Why do you get bloody noses?"
For this, I have no answer!
This week, however, some very strange things have taken place.
First, as is typical, my brother-in-law asked me to step in and work for a day. That's fine - nothing like making a few bucks on vacation. I became receptionist extraordinaire for Forman Motorsport on Friday. Within fifteen minutes of stepping into his office, I got a mind-crushing headache. It felt like my head was swollen to three times it's size, ready to burst. It was a fairly quiet day in the office, so I tried reading a book to make the time pass, but began to feel nauseated as I read. I tried doing some computer work, but the scrolling and page-jumping made me sea-sick.
Emily and the girls brought lunch-manicotti and salad-and I could hardly eat without feeling sick to my stomach. When they left, I couldn't hold my head up. I'd cradle my aching head in my hands or bury it in my arms on the desk, only to find I'd fallen asleep for a few minutes at a time. Not good when you're supposed to be the front face of the business. Car detailers and painters came and went, and I must have looked like I was on drugs. I couldn't hold a decent conversation. I got up at least three times, rushing to the bathroom, sure I was going to lose it. Then I feared fainting, like I did two summers ago at work. My overactive imagination picturing what I'd look like after cracking my skull on the tile floor with no one discovering me for hours.
As soon as Franz and Scott returned, I took off in the loaner Mercedes, making it home in time to crash in bed, where I stayed from 4:30 pm until 8 am the next day.
As if that episode wasn't enough. Yesterday, Em and I wanted to go hiking in the deserty mountains before church. We got up and just as we readied ourselves to leave, my nose started gushing blood. NEVER do I get nosebleeds. I remember once in 2nd grade, that's it.
Around 5:30 that night, I got another.
This morning, as we got ready to hike - another.
3 nosebleeds within 24 hours...what is going on?
Last night, I got up from the dinner table to find that my pajama pants (a gift from Leslie a few years ago) had not only ripped a 3-inch hole in the front (which I've known about for a while) but had also ripped a horizontal line by the back pocket, exposing my backside to the world. Now the nickname I've used for my friends for a few years - Chics, short for Chica - took on an entirely new meaning.
Disconcerting, all of this! I think the nosebleeds have officially freaked Maddie out - though I haven't involved her on purpose. The late-afternoon one yesterday occurred while I was playing with her. There was no hiding it then. And this morning, she found me in my bathroom, holding a kleenex to my nose. "Why, Lana? Why do you get bloody noses?"
For this, I have no answer!
Just to be fair
Here are some new pictures of Katie - the most precious baby ever!
For the Princess Party, Katie decided being a cowgirl would be more fun.
Party #1
Two days after landing in AZ, we threw Maddie a Princess Tea Party. 6 little girls ages 3-4 came over in the princess regalia. Here are some of the better shots.
Maddie in her finest Belle outfit and looking very proud!
Maddie in her finest Belle outfit and looking very proud!
How many princesses can fit in one little house (or castle, should I say)?
Movie time! Cinderella to the rescue (to which they only paid attention for about 5-1/2 minutes). 
Vacation to my Home away from Home
I've been delayed in posting because of a trip, or two trips, to be exact.
The first was to Chicago to meet new people and hang out with one of my favorite people. Not only was I able to check out her new crib and roomies, but we had plenty of time to unwind: reading, napping, walking around Lincoln Square, and coffee-shopping (a new verb). It was a perfect-weather weekend with just the right amount of sun mixed with breeze.
I took a 2 1/2 hour train ride to get to Chicago, traveling with my nieces and sister (who you can find here). Entertaining a 15-month old and a 3-3/4 year old can prove challenging, and I'm afraid some people were ticked at the sometimes screaming, sometimes toddling baby. Maddie was fairly under control with coloring, stories, playing pretend, and some tiny M&Ms that her great-grandma sent along for the trip.
Within 24 hours of arriving back at my parents' place, Em, the girls and I were off on another adventure - this time a 3-1/2 hour plane ride to Arizona. As is typical for my luck, our flight was cancelled due to mechanical difficulties, and we were stuck in the airport for 6-1/2 hours. What would have been a long day to begin with became interminable. Even though the girls both passed out from exhaustion while we waited, they were done by the time we boarded the plane. We were all delirious by the time we hit the Phoenix airport.
We've caught up on sleep by now (only 5 days later), and we're trying to pack in as much fun as possible.
The first was to Chicago to meet new people and hang out with one of my favorite people. Not only was I able to check out her new crib and roomies, but we had plenty of time to unwind: reading, napping, walking around Lincoln Square, and coffee-shopping (a new verb). It was a perfect-weather weekend with just the right amount of sun mixed with breeze.
I took a 2 1/2 hour train ride to get to Chicago, traveling with my nieces and sister (who you can find here). Entertaining a 15-month old and a 3-3/4 year old can prove challenging, and I'm afraid some people were ticked at the sometimes screaming, sometimes toddling baby. Maddie was fairly under control with coloring, stories, playing pretend, and some tiny M&Ms that her great-grandma sent along for the trip.
Within 24 hours of arriving back at my parents' place, Em, the girls and I were off on another adventure - this time a 3-1/2 hour plane ride to Arizona. As is typical for my luck, our flight was cancelled due to mechanical difficulties, and we were stuck in the airport for 6-1/2 hours. What would have been a long day to begin with became interminable. Even though the girls both passed out from exhaustion while we waited, they were done by the time we boarded the plane. We were all delirious by the time we hit the Phoenix airport.
We've caught up on sleep by now (only 5 days later), and we're trying to pack in as much fun as possible.
09 August 2006
Unbelievable
I chose this, I know.
But sometimes I feel like I don't know what happened, and someone else was making all the decisions the day that I became an adult. One day, I was a normal person, the next I was agreeing to move in with a family (mom and 12-year-old son) that I didn't know. Suddenly, yet before I moved in (after I'd agreed) they lived in a different house and the entire situation changed, only I lacked the mental capacity to process what was happening because I was uber-stressed by school. Then it was sharing a bathroom with a boy from Saudi Arabia. Then came puddles of water on the bathroom floor and head hairs all over the sink and floor every day. (Not to be stereotypical, but I'm not sure he's showered since I moved in a week ago--it's the mysterious smell emenating from his room, which is about 2 feet from my door.)
Then, today came.
A Japanese foreign-exchange student is taking J's room for a month, sometime between Aug and Sept.
It was that smile (Elaine, you know the one) - the plastic, oh-my-gosh-did-you-just-say-that tilt of the corners of my mouth. Noncommittal, yet plastered to my face. "Wow." was all I could muster. Not an excited exclamation, either. She heard the tone. She saw my eyes--steel, maybe.
As if my insensitive, formerly conservative-Christian now religiously-confused, wanna-be-my-best-friend, absolutely grating instructor wasn't overwhelming my ultra-thin nerves enough. As if being in school for a full calendar year won't make a person insane and unstable on its own. As if wanting to live alone, yet never quite getting it to work out won't drive a person mad in 25 minutes of sharing living quarters with a 12-year-old, no matter how nice, sweet, or cool he is.
Someday, I will look back on this patchwork family and say, That was such a fun way to live, such a random and interesting story to share. Right now, I'm pissed.
Should I not have been asked if it was okay to bump up the house load by one more person? Do I live here, too?
Last night I heard this when the TV came blaring on outside my room, "J, turn that down. Lana's studying. Other people live here, too, you know." And then, they all continued to talk loudly in that same area for the next hour.
I'm venting, it's true. My nerves are shot. I finished my final project of the year and now have a 2 week break, that will start tomorrow night after a pointless and aggravating class that the instructor refused to cancel, even though no other class on campus (except for Bird's Lithuanian) is still meeting. That's because all classes have reached the maximum hours required/allowed for a single course. And the instructors understand that people are losing their minds and getting a little vicious.
Everyone except my lovely instructor. Everyone on campus, except for him.
But sometimes I feel like I don't know what happened, and someone else was making all the decisions the day that I became an adult. One day, I was a normal person, the next I was agreeing to move in with a family (mom and 12-year-old son) that I didn't know. Suddenly, yet before I moved in (after I'd agreed) they lived in a different house and the entire situation changed, only I lacked the mental capacity to process what was happening because I was uber-stressed by school. Then it was sharing a bathroom with a boy from Saudi Arabia. Then came puddles of water on the bathroom floor and head hairs all over the sink and floor every day. (Not to be stereotypical, but I'm not sure he's showered since I moved in a week ago--it's the mysterious smell emenating from his room, which is about 2 feet from my door.)
Then, today came.
A Japanese foreign-exchange student is taking J's room for a month, sometime between Aug and Sept.
It was that smile (Elaine, you know the one) - the plastic, oh-my-gosh-did-you-just-say-that tilt of the corners of my mouth. Noncommittal, yet plastered to my face. "Wow." was all I could muster. Not an excited exclamation, either. She heard the tone. She saw my eyes--steel, maybe.
As if my insensitive, formerly conservative-Christian now religiously-confused, wanna-be-my-best-friend, absolutely grating instructor wasn't overwhelming my ultra-thin nerves enough. As if being in school for a full calendar year won't make a person insane and unstable on its own. As if wanting to live alone, yet never quite getting it to work out won't drive a person mad in 25 minutes of sharing living quarters with a 12-year-old, no matter how nice, sweet, or cool he is.
Someday, I will look back on this patchwork family and say, That was such a fun way to live, such a random and interesting story to share. Right now, I'm pissed.
Should I not have been asked if it was okay to bump up the house load by one more person? Do I live here, too?
Last night I heard this when the TV came blaring on outside my room, "J, turn that down. Lana's studying. Other people live here, too, you know." And then, they all continued to talk loudly in that same area for the next hour.
I'm venting, it's true. My nerves are shot. I finished my final project of the year and now have a 2 week break, that will start tomorrow night after a pointless and aggravating class that the instructor refused to cancel, even though no other class on campus (except for Bird's Lithuanian) is still meeting. That's because all classes have reached the maximum hours required/allowed for a single course. And the instructors understand that people are losing their minds and getting a little vicious.
Everyone except my lovely instructor. Everyone on campus, except for him.
05 August 2006
After an amazing evening of hog roasting and drink toasting, I came back to my new home to sleep. I didn't sleep last night because someone (or 2 someones) was walking around above my bedroom for an hour and a half after I came home to crash. It disrupted my entire sleep and R.E.M. cycles.
Tonight, although I do honestly love this movie, it's freaking Titanic which they have BEGUN at 10:20pm. Does anyone know that it is a good 3 hour movie? Cause I do. I watched it 6 times in the theatre, no lies.
I have somewhere to be in the morning. And I'm not in the mood.
Not to be ungrateful, but this is Reason #3,621 Why I Hate Sharing Living Quarters with Anyone, I don't care who you are.
Tonight, although I do honestly love this movie, it's freaking Titanic which they have BEGUN at 10:20pm. Does anyone know that it is a good 3 hour movie? Cause I do. I watched it 6 times in the theatre, no lies.
I have somewhere to be in the morning. And I'm not in the mood.
Not to be ungrateful, but this is Reason #3,621 Why I Hate Sharing Living Quarters with Anyone, I don't care who you are.
04 August 2006
A New World
I'd never experienced a dissertation defense until today.
To be honest, I'd never had much interest in them - figuring they'd be full of technical or discipline-specific jargon so that I'd be sure to be lost in the first few minutes.
Today's observation changed my mind.
I can't remember (or find) the specific title of the dissertation, however, it was on the toxicity levels of TTX in rough-skinned newt eggs and something about coevolution of traits.
That this presentation, which lasted about an hour, was the culmination of 5 years of study and lab work simply blew my mind.
Now I'm all hyped up on attending dissertation defenses so I can learn, but also to see what interests people and to be amazed at their dedication to one particular research question. I don't know if I could ever pursue something like doctoral students do, but it's inspiring nonetheless to see students achieve something so great.
Congrats on a job well done, Liz!
To be honest, I'd never had much interest in them - figuring they'd be full of technical or discipline-specific jargon so that I'd be sure to be lost in the first few minutes.
Today's observation changed my mind.
I can't remember (or find) the specific title of the dissertation, however, it was on the toxicity levels of TTX in rough-skinned newt eggs and something about coevolution of traits.
That this presentation, which lasted about an hour, was the culmination of 5 years of study and lab work simply blew my mind.
Now I'm all hyped up on attending dissertation defenses so I can learn, but also to see what interests people and to be amazed at their dedication to one particular research question. I don't know if I could ever pursue something like doctoral students do, but it's inspiring nonetheless to see students achieve something so great.
Congrats on a job well done, Liz!
Some things do actually work out
Last night after class, I found a parking ticket on my windshield because I forgot to display the $85 parking permit I bought last August. Needless to say, I was annoyed at myself, my own forgetfullness, to no end.
I wrote an appeal email when I got home, in hopes that someone might show a little lenience. But the parking operations here is not known for its merciful dealings.
Here is what I wrote:
I am writing to appeal a ticket (No. #########) I received in the Library parking
lot this evening, Thursday, the 3rd of August at 18:53.
My vehicle was not displaying my parking pass (here I gave my permit #), however, I own one which was sitting inside my car. I remove the pass when driving (which is stated in All caps on the permit itself), and forgot to put it back on my rearview mirror when I exited my car for class this evening.
Because this seems to be a very small oversight considering I have a valid permit and use
it every day and because the parking lot was not full, a situation in which the lack of a
displayed permit could mean restricted access for someone with a parking pass to campus
facilities, I feel that this citation should be dismissed.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
This morning, I received a reply:
Greetings,
Thanks for your appeal. I just wanted to let you know that the citation
has been voided, and there is no fine due.
Best,
Parking Operations Employee
When I read this, I was glad that I appealed. $40 is a lot to pay for one minor mistake.
I wrote an appeal email when I got home, in hopes that someone might show a little lenience. But the parking operations here is not known for its merciful dealings.
Here is what I wrote:
I am writing to appeal a ticket (No. #########) I received in the Library parking
lot this evening, Thursday, the 3rd of August at 18:53.
My vehicle was not displaying my parking pass (here I gave my permit #), however, I own one which was sitting inside my car. I remove the pass when driving (which is stated in All caps on the permit itself), and forgot to put it back on my rearview mirror when I exited my car for class this evening.
Because this seems to be a very small oversight considering I have a valid permit and use
it every day and because the parking lot was not full, a situation in which the lack of a
displayed permit could mean restricted access for someone with a parking pass to campus
facilities, I feel that this citation should be dismissed.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
This morning, I received a reply:
Greetings,
Thanks for your appeal. I just wanted to let you know that the citation
has been voided, and there is no fine due.
Best,
Parking Operations Employee
When I read this, I was glad that I appealed. $40 is a lot to pay for one minor mistake.
03 August 2006
It's raining!
I've never been so grateful for rain as I am at this moment. Reflief from the heat, at last!
02 August 2006
Why is everything an ordeal for me?
I can't begin to count the number of seemingly small matters that have turned into ordeals in the last month.
Let me give you one extremely insignificant example from today.
I wanted to make some rice into which I planned to put a can of cream of mushroom soup. Easy enough. You don't even have to know how to do anything fancy to make this meal. Oh, and I wanted some broccoli.
I cooked the broccoli. I'm good at that, do it all the time.
I got the rice out and read the directions on how to cook it about 15 times while the broccoli was cooking. Trying to cement it in my mind so I could put the package away as soon as I removed the necessary rice. Reading the directions alerted me that 1 cup of rice, mixed with 1 3/4 cup of water would work. I decided to double the amounts because I figured I could eat on it for the next few days.
When I read "Makes 4 servings.", I thought it meant the entire bag.
It means 1 cup of rice = 4 servings.
The rice grew and grew and grew. I had a hard time finding tupperware that would hold all of this rice.
It took forever to cook.
And then there was this seemingly endless supply of rice.
Ordeal, people.
All I wanted was some flavorful rice with broccoli. What I got was a month's worth of rice and a sink full of dishes.
At least I have a full tummy.
Let me give you one extremely insignificant example from today.
I wanted to make some rice into which I planned to put a can of cream of mushroom soup. Easy enough. You don't even have to know how to do anything fancy to make this meal. Oh, and I wanted some broccoli.
I cooked the broccoli. I'm good at that, do it all the time.
I got the rice out and read the directions on how to cook it about 15 times while the broccoli was cooking. Trying to cement it in my mind so I could put the package away as soon as I removed the necessary rice. Reading the directions alerted me that 1 cup of rice, mixed with 1 3/4 cup of water would work. I decided to double the amounts because I figured I could eat on it for the next few days.
When I read "Makes 4 servings.", I thought it meant the entire bag.
It means 1 cup of rice = 4 servings.
The rice grew and grew and grew. I had a hard time finding tupperware that would hold all of this rice.
It took forever to cook.
And then there was this seemingly endless supply of rice.
Ordeal, people.
All I wanted was some flavorful rice with broccoli. What I got was a month's worth of rice and a sink full of dishes.
At least I have a full tummy.
The idea of a "roving reference librarian" is somewhat disturbing to me. This concept was promoted by an article I read for class today ("Alternative Strategies for Promoting Information Literacy" by Jeanne Galvin, Journal of Academic Librarianship, 31(4), p. 352-357.).
The idea is to be available where students need help without requiring them to come to the reference desk. But what it amounts to is a librarian roaming around in the reference area, essentially looking over students' shoulders as they use wireless Internet access and print resources.
I feel like it turns librarians into spies, or at least makes them look as if they are suspiciously watching students for moments to reprimand bad behavior or wrong use of resources. As a student, roving librarians would make me nervous and not want to study at the library or even use library print resources.
I don't think that's what we want to accomplish. For our own job security, we should be begging students to come into the physical building.
All that said, I will not become a roving librarian when I get a real job. I'll stay at my desk, thank you very much.
The idea is to be available where students need help without requiring them to come to the reference desk. But what it amounts to is a librarian roaming around in the reference area, essentially looking over students' shoulders as they use wireless Internet access and print resources.
I feel like it turns librarians into spies, or at least makes them look as if they are suspiciously watching students for moments to reprimand bad behavior or wrong use of resources. As a student, roving librarians would make me nervous and not want to study at the library or even use library print resources.
I don't think that's what we want to accomplish. For our own job security, we should be begging students to come into the physical building.
All that said, I will not become a roving librarian when I get a real job. I'll stay at my desk, thank you very much.
Let's just reiterate...
...when clicking in and out one's retainer as a teenager, it's pretty gross, but I'd argue understandable when one considers all the pain and torture that teeth work requires.
However, clicking in and out one's false teeth, in such a way that the base (or fake gums, as it were) are visible is not understandable and exponentially more disgusting.
However, clicking in and out one's false teeth, in such a way that the base (or fake gums, as it were) are visible is not understandable and exponentially more disgusting.
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