All you have to do is stay ahead of the snowball....

Today was a long day.  A very long day. 
I really hadn't intended on going to school this morning, until I got an e-mail from my super-awesome supervisor confirming that we have a 10:00 meeting.  I was hoping to "work from home" and by that, I mean sleep in and do some reading on my couch and in my pyjamas. 
Long-story-long: I thought our meeting was Tuesday, he kept horrible meeting notes, we compromised on 10 Monday and I got to school late, coffee-less and tired.  He gave me about 8 journal articles to try an plug through.  The funny thing is that he really didn't give a deadline, but he's so chilled out that I'd feel kind of bad if I didn't try to conquer at least half of them this week. 
It started with: "So, how are classes?", moved on to "Well, let's try and pinpoint you into the right direction", turned into "Don't feel like you have to have some new information every time we meet, this is mostly just formality", which snowballed to "If you have any questions later this week, come see me.  This is tough shit to wrap your brain around".  Yeah, he's that chilled out. 
Although there's no "real" pressure, I still feel like I should throw in some sort of effort to read enough to take advantage of his availability to help me out later this week, which means that I should try to get something done so he can warrant helping me out.  Add it to the pile. 

You know the metaphor I mentioned earlier, the one where you're so busy that you can't slack or you'll get bogged down?  I'm changing the metaphor.  All you have to do is stay ahead of the giant-ass snowball rolling down the hill behind you. 
Today I got a little caught up in the snowball, got flattened for 1 or 2 cycles down the hill, then after I had a really, really big cuppa joe, I managed to unstick myself from the snowball and continue running.  Lucas pictures it as getting unstuck, running like mad, turning around and flipping it the bird then continuing to run like fuck down that hill with the menacing snowball grumbling and growing behind you.  I'm hoping for some sun to start melting that motha fucka. 
At least I was able to unstick myself from the snowball.  I blame WEC for allowing me to let down my guard and get wrapped up in it in the first place.  Whatever, it was fun.  Back to life, back to reality. 

I honestly wish I had some time to make a sweet paint picture of me running in front of the snowball, but if I took the time to make it, I might get wrapped up in it again.  And that would suck.  Instead I sort of found a reasonable cartoon rendition.  Just as effective.....most likely. 

My favorite person from WEC weekend....ever!

This weekend was EPIC.  Not because of WEC (which was pretty cool), not because I took a 2-day vacation of reality, not because I had so many adult beverages that I may or may not have said or done a few things that I may or may not regret the next morning, but because I got to hang out with Charles Fucking Heard.

I first bumped into C-F-H at WEC in Victoria, 4 years ago.  He was one of my favorite persons then, and he still remains so today; then for pretending he was actually good at debate, today for other reasons which make him a shameless-one-man-shit-show.  Another thing that makes him really awesome is that he's not afraid to get his camel pack a little boozy, and if I didn't have another aversion to swapping spit with about 50 of his closest (and newest) friends, I'd be all over that like white on rice.  True story. 

I hit up Joe's on Wednesday night, the official first event.  I hadn't intended on going on Wednesday but I was hitting a wall and needed beer....BADLY.  I knew there was going to be beer and people there.  Win/Win.
A very drunk C-F-H pulled me aside, we hugged, we chatted, we drank, he introduced me to his buddy Anthony (who I thought was pretty hot), we played the world's most awesome and deadly drinking game/shot.  C-F-H convinced Beatty to join me and him in a game of "Coasters".  It involves 3 or 4 people, 3 or 4 coasters, a wall of booze and a really awesome bartender.  Use your imagination.  Some drinks were awesome, others were not.  Mental note, do not under any circumstances mix 151 with Bailey's.....bad.  Memory loss can and will occur.
Apparently I was the only one who could remember the rest of the evening.  Dang.

Thursday and Friday were pretty standard.  It was WEC, there was good food, good competition and good fellowship.
Saturday night was EPIC.  The theme was "Rubix Cube".  Apparently you show up with an article of clothing in each color that's on a Rubix Cube and you trade-up to try and get all one color, and semi-match, by the end of the evening.  Because of my acute style and my aversion to trading sweaty clothes, I merely watched; and that was perfectly fine by me.  C-F-H and T-Dawg didn't start with anything, except 1 or 2 pretty crappy U of A bandanas, and ended up the night with a pretty sweet belt and a very awesome white scarf.  C-F-H, the little bastard managed to get his greasy paws on not one, not two, but THREE $50 bar tabs for next weekend.  Because the poor guy is from Edmonton, he made a sweet profit of $40.  Jealous, kinda. 
C-F-H also stripped for us, debate-style.  He was pretty stoked about it, he even brought his very supportive, very classy Rubix Cube underwear.  I'm a huge fan.....pun intended.  Apparently they're a million times better than a speedo on a waterslide.  Cool.
Killer Epic!

This is C-Dawg with my buddy Mang, sharing the ever-popular camel pack.  It's not a great picture, but it sure does show what kind of a shit-show to expect. 

On a side note, Drew caught me on a legitimate Buffalo and all I had was bottled beer.  I don't chug from the bottle....it makes me gag.  Call me a princess, but I've been known to hold my own.
Buddy I owe you a chug next time we hang out.

Popcorn will never taste the same. Ever. Again.

Tonight, there were 2.2 mins that were so full of win, it was EPIC!
I've never popped stove-popped popcorn before, at least it was never me that popped it.  When I was little, before we got a air-popped popcorn popper, Friday night was POPCORN NIGHT! Dad would stand by the stove, for the first and only time all week, and make popcorn.  Sometimes, if we were good, we got popcorn on Saturdays too, but we had to be really REALLY good.
In Saskatoon, I'm lucky enough to be the proud owner of a hot-air popcorn popper (circa 1994, it was my Gramma's before she moved into the nursing home), so popcorn is a regular snack around here, but only air-popped corn.....UNTIL TONIGHT!
I got adventurous but didn't quite know what I was doing, so I did what every kid who's moved away from home does, I phoned home to ask Dad for instructions on how to make popcorn on the stove.  Turns out he was at a meeting (typical) so Mom helped me out instead, which is almost as good....almost.
I put just enough oil to cover the bottom of the pot, and just enough corn so that it's covered in oil.  Mom's advice, "Don't forget to shake it, or it'll burn".  2.2 minutes of shaking later I have a wonderful pot full of delicious popcorn.  I wasn't sure if it all had popped or not, so I lifted up the lid ever-so-slightly, and to my delight and amazement, I had put in EXACTLY enough corn so that it didn't push the lid up (Dad was always worried about the lid lifting up because it was right at eye level for us kids.  AHHH, oil in the eyes!!).  I was so amazed, I did a little victory dance, too bad I was by myself and Chaos was sleeping, so no one saw it....but there was dancing! (If you have a victory dance and there's no one to see it, is there still a victory???)
A second victory dance followed when I dumped the popcorn in a bowl and I didn't burn any of it.
I'm not quite at the bottom of the bowl by this point (but my keyboard and trackpad have a certain glisten :P) so I can't say how many un-popped kernels there are, but hey, even if there's lots, I'll be more than satisfied.  I didn't get oil in my eyes!

...and no I didn't butter my popcorn...oil gives it enough flavor....it's delicious...

So, that's what it feels like....

WARNING:  THIS POST DEALS WITH THE SENSITIVE SUBJECT AND COULD BE TAKEN AS OFFENSIVE TO SOME READERS.  I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.  THIS IS ONLY THE WORLD AS I SEE IT, AND I HAD MY EYES OPENED AND PERSPECTIVE BROADENED TODAY.

Today I had a self-revelation.  It happened right after my Fracture and Dislocation class.  As far as material goes, I love this class.  I love breaking stuff, figuring out why it broke, seeing if it can be improved, understanding dislocation theory, mechanics of materials, all that wonderful stuff.  I'm not sure if I'm so comfortable in that class though, not because the environment is hostile.  The environment is anything but hostile, the prof has a lot of good will and really wants to teach well and the students are polite and want to do well (we're all grad students....we kind of HAVE to do well to be eligible for scholarships and stuff).  There's a lot of intelligent conversation that goes on and a lot of good ideas get sparked and explored.  Hell, we're even missing that almost essential annoying person who asks a stupid question every 5 minutes, you know, the one that sits in the front row and insists that their (stupid) ideas are the most important ones and wastes everyone's class time while being completely oblivious to the fact that they're an idiot.....yeah we're missing that kid.  As far as that, this class is damned-near perfect.

The only issue that I have is that I'm uncomfortable when I sit in class, and even seem to sit alone.  I'm the only white kid in the class.  I knew this would happen eventually, with over 2/3 of the grad students at the U of S being International Students, but I didn't think it would happen right off the bat.  Mostly I'm uncomfortable because the differences in culture are really apparent.  I'm not going to elaborate on them, but they're there.  I have no problem with it really, just that I seem to sit in class and it's apparent that I'm the ONLY white kid.  Some days I feel pretty alone in class.

Now, don't get me wrong, I've had this feeling of "only one" before....hell, I had to face it EVERY DAY when I was out in industry.  I even had to go out of my way to prove my worth some days because of it.  I was the only lady engineer in our office.  There's been lots of situations where I've been the only girl.  In some classes I attended as an undergrad I was one of few girls.  In ME 313 I was endearlingly known and "the other girl".  I've come to accept it.  I'm a minority in my field....sometimes literally.  Hell, I've even turned it around and have felt quite EMPOWERED because I was the only girl.  I've gotten scholarships because I've been a girl.  It was easy to feel high-and-mighty when you felt like you had to prove something to the world.  It was easy to get wrapped up in being a minority.

I didn't feel empowered after my ME 898 class today.  I felt like more of the outcast.  Normally I don't speak up in class, I'm scared to for fear that I'll be told "You're an idiot!  You have no idea what I'm trying to talk about".  I don't like to stay after class either.  I tend to feel that I'm wasting the Prof's time.  I don't know why, it's just my reality, or at least my perception of my reality.  Today, I couldn't get out of class quick enough and I sure as hell didn't want to speak up.  It just felt weird and uncomfortable being the only "white kid".

When I sit back and look at it, although I've been exposed to a wide variety of cultures, I've never really been immersed in it, at least not the way I see it.  I grew up in Swift Current, a generally homogeneous "white community".  We'd have the odd doctor or dentist or other professional who'd settle down in town who immigrated from where-have-you, but they were always removed by one degree.  When I went through Agriculture, it was the same situation.  We were mostly white farm kids from similar backgrounds and no real immersion in other cultures, besides the "once removed" situation.  When I went through Engineering, it was a similar story.  Although there were more International Students, it feels like I never really interacted with them and kept them in the "once removed" situation.  I think I'm having a hard time adjusting because I can't play the "once removed" card again.  I have to suck it up and deal.  I'm immersed. 

I really have no problem with it, or at least on the surface I have no problem with it.  I can't say that I have "no problems" with the issue when I leave class feeling uncomfortable and out of place though.  I guess I have no problems on the surface, it must be something that sits deeper in my soul.  Outwardly, I'm not a racist person.  I like to think that my parents did a good job of raising me and taught me to be tolerant, understanding, open-minded and all those good things.  I'm more than eager to learn about someone or something different, mainly because it's unique and challenges my view of the world.  I think that uniqueness makes each one of us special (which explains on why I embrace my quirks, they make me feel validated and special).  I think that's why I'm having such a hard time accepting that I'm uncomfortable in my ME 898 class, mostly because I really don't think I have a full understanding of why I'm so uncomfortable, or even if it's worth making an issue out of it. 

Although I'll never have a full understanding of what it's like to be an International Student, or someone from a different race or culture (at least not at this point in my life), looking from where my mind is sitting right now and how I see the issue, I like to think that I have a little more understanding of at least what it's like to be immersed in a different or variety of cultures.

No Pressure....

I had my first meeting with my research group today.  They all seem pretty cool, and my advisor seems even more chill than I initially thought....yup, crazy.  We cracked a few jokes, got to know one another, made fun of some summer students....the usual.  I'm pretty sure there was a rant in there too.  Either way, he's given us as much free rein as he can, which is nice. 
I do have a little understanding why we agreed that I need at least 80 in my classes.  It sure helps with scholarships, but there's a little more than that.  Although my grades have little bearing on the success of my project, they help build work ethic.  The data that I'm collecting in my project will be used to verify the actual validity of the 4 other projects in my research group.  In other words, if my project doesn't work out, or I screw up, 4 other people will have to start close to scratch, or at least take a different focus.  Yeah, no pressure.

He was one of two people that did ask me if I was starting to get overwhelmed and able to keep up.
I have 2 schools of thought (maybe 3, we'll see what kind of an argument I can make) on this matter.
The first I learned from my old boss at CNH.  He always told me that you can't finish everything in a day and there's no use getting worked up about what you can't finish.  Just do what you can, work as hard as you're able and it will all get done eventually.  Some things may not get done on time, but if it's done correctly and thoroughly that's all you can ask.  Just don't kill anyone in the process.
The second way to look at this I learned from a student friend.  He had one semester where he was taking 7 classes and in an Exec position with the SESS.  I asked him how he managed.  He said that he never let himself get behind, because if he got behind the house of cards would all fall down and they wouldn't be paper cards, they'd be concrete.  Basically, you just get so busy that you have no choice but to keep up because once you get behind, the shitstorm will get you.
Then there's the third philosophy (I guess I was able to make 3 points out of this....cool) where you purposely keep incredibly busy so you don't spend money or get into trouble. This sounds familiar.  Really familiar.  I'm not saying that I'm starting to get overwhelmed, just that unless I manage to keep busy with work and school, I'm sure I'll find some sort of other endeavor to get busy with and I'll be completely distracted.  ADD much?  Oooo, a green car!

Either way, I'm not getting overwhelmed yet.  Things are completely manageable, even within in the midst of assignments, projects, proposals and papers.

Cheers.

Did my writing suck this much when I was in 2nd year?

I finished marking my first set of actual assignments last night....or this morning at around 3.  I'm calling it "actual assignments" because the fist set of memos wasn't marked, just reviewed so that I have a baseline to measure the students' improvement over the term. 
I think this baseline is going to extend into this assignment I just finished marking because there were some doozies. 
Some kids completely missed the point and gave me 2 pages of fluff, others tried to bullshit their way through and others used the "spray and pray" method where they floated around the point but never really made a solid argument. 
I have a feeling that I may turn into "that prof" who's cool in the classroom but marks like a son-of-a-bitch.  I have no problem being a tough marker.  I mean, I'm not going to give marks where they're not deserved and my expectations are quite high. 
After last night's experience, I don't think I'm going to enjoy marking the midterm.  Dang. 

On the plus side, it was beautiful out today.  Chaos and I went for a good long walk, the first walk since we've been home from Christmas holidays.  She's pretty exhausted right now.  It's a good thing. 

I gave into my addiction on Friday.  I went to the bookstore and came home with a book.  It's called "Star Wars and Philosophy".  I know, lame title.  I read the first few pages and it actually looks pretty good.  I also picked up some Moleskine journals for 1/2 price.  I was pretty stoked about that. 

...so does that make me dark and twisty?

The more I learn about the material properties of bone the more I want to learn about bones.  I love bones.  There are few things that are more perfect and amazing than bones and joints.  A really good beer ranks right up there, but bones still win. 

I thought they were pretty cool to start with, but after an evening of diving into project-related literature, I think I may have found my Mistress....or Mister, if that's what they call the dude that you're cheating on your husband with....if I had a husband.....

Neat fact for the day: a running person will put so much stress on their tibia (big bone in the lower leg) that it ranges between the yield strength (force required to start plastic deformation) and the ultimate strength (force to snap...because bone is more brittle than ductile), which is a really narrow range to start with.  Taking what they teach us about metals or brittle ceramics, in theory our bones should be breaking every time we land on a running stride.  Wicked hey!?  Also, figuring all this shit out is even more complicated because bone has the ability to regenerate itself.  Wonderful bone-building cells (osteoblasts) go in and fix little tiny stress fractures that we don't even notice and most of the time can't even detect.  AMAZING!!  How many metals can you think of that have the ability to regenerate themselves?  I didn't think so.  I'll come back when you can get me a real answer and not something that came up on Star Trek. 

We're taught to design stuff so that the stress is well below the yielding stress...the amount of force required to start yielding (or breaking if you want to look at it in pseudo-correct terms)...so well below that it can withstand 1.5 or 2 times the force before it snaps.  Obviously someone didn't read the safety manual when they went to design bones....or did they???  I dunno, I find this little tidbit puzzling, amazing and incredibly wicked, right up there with the so-close-to-perfect-and-frictionless-cartilage fact.  Sure makes me appreciate the wonder of the living body that much more. 

Right now, I'm loving my project.  Bones are the coolest thing! EVER!