Teaching is a little bit harder than I thought it would be. It doesn't help that the lab section that I'm teaching is ahead of the lecture by about two days, and so I have to teach concepts and demonstrate practical application of those concepts at the same time.
I was a little disorganized - the lab books and colored pencils were not where I thought they would be, and for some reason my whole class showed up before I did (I swear the class starts at 1:40 and they were there at 1:20, like, really? Don't you have anything else to do). Plus, the lab was awkward anyway, looking at maps in one group, mixing it up and discussing in another group, and trying to color in some maps and examine things in yet another group. ... too many groups, too new of concepts and general lack of understanding.
Somehow, though, everyone showed that they understood by the end of the class.... mostly.
Agh
Monday, August 30, 2010
T-minus 2 hours
I'm going to be a teacher!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
... or not busy
Apparently I will have no free time on Tuesdays and Thursdays but TONS of time on Wednesdays (and probably Mondays and Fridays and the weekend).
Today the aquatic center opened. I stopped by, but there were too many people already in the pool.
I also had my first seminar class... uh, I don't know why I have to go, other than to provide a captive audience for the grad students that have to give presentations. That'll be me next year, but I swear, seems such a waste of time right now. Like I'd be doing anything more constructive.
Answered the door for three solicitors today. Once nice girl selling magazines I didn't want, and who wouldn't let me politely say no (until I just closed the door in her face) and two people from NAPA Auto Parts selling cards for free auto repairs. Courtney and I went half and half on one (you have to pay a deposit, and you get the deposit back once you use all of the card or decide to turn it in), so I'll go in to get my brakes and stuff looked at, but I don't want the oil changes or actual service from there. I remember my promise, Dad. Nobody but the Ford place, no matter how tempting...
Finished Grass for His Pillow
, am now rereading Stranger in a Strange Land
. Still like it. Am wanting to get Brilliance of the Moon
next, but I'll wait for a while on it. Maybe request it from the library. Interlibrary loan = win.
My lawn is growing very well.
Also, my bookcase at this very moment. Button fern still hanging on, rest of it...well, I'm still unpacking and this is hopefully not the end of it all.
 | |||
| Not seen: pool to the left crammed with people |
I also had my first seminar class... uh, I don't know why I have to go, other than to provide a captive audience for the grad students that have to give presentations. That'll be me next year, but I swear, seems such a waste of time right now. Like I'd be doing anything more constructive.
Answered the door for three solicitors today. Once nice girl selling magazines I didn't want, and who wouldn't let me politely say no (until I just closed the door in her face) and two people from NAPA Auto Parts selling cards for free auto repairs. Courtney and I went half and half on one (you have to pay a deposit, and you get the deposit back once you use all of the card or decide to turn it in), so I'll go in to get my brakes and stuff looked at, but I don't want the oil changes or actual service from there. I remember my promise, Dad. Nobody but the Ford place, no matter how tempting...
Finished Grass for His Pillow
, am now rereading Stranger in a Strange Land. Still like it. Am wanting to get Brilliance of the Moon next, but I'll wait for a while on it. Maybe request it from the library. Interlibrary loan = win.My lawn is growing very well.
 |
| Look at that green. Also needs a mow, but I'm not complaining. |
 |
| Apples to Apples for extra credit. All the textbooks are on the bottom shelf. |
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Uh, Busy
Since I last updated, I've started class (Whole Earth Geochem and Advanced Hydro, both of which appear to be challenging and to involve shitons of math (totally a word and totally not swearing)), have had some more TA instruction (received a sheet of paper in my mailbox), volunteered to lead trips for 20+ people to godknowswhere (also get them t-shirts while I'm at it) and also been elected unofficial voice of the GRSP to the all-powerful Admin despite the fact I can never say the acronym correctly. Also, on Friday, I join a committee that is overfunded and underutilized to get speakers on campus.
Yeah, free time, about that thing we had... I think it's over now.
Tomorrow: call lady about getting shirts, call other lady to make sure I'm not breaking rules, get internet fixed by strange man, go to class, meet with prof/mentor/adviser (if he's in), go to pool, participate in GIANT OPENING PARTY, cook dinner, read homework, maybe go to movie if people want to, talk to Tim over internet.
mmm
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The People at the River
Sometimes my faith in humanity is shaken. I tend to believe that all people are pretty decent, normal human beings (as in, sharing my moral code, which is pretty much Do unto others and you would others do unto you. Cliche, but workable). But sometimes...
I went to the river today, after filling out my I9 and taking some pictures of campus to share.
There I am, sitting on the bank of the river, watching people float by on rafts and innertubes, kids playing by the shore, adventurous birds swimming downriver.
There is a woman supervising two child-like adults swimming. She occasionally asks me nervously if she has a spider on the back of her shirt. She never does. She sits mostly quietly, reading some book with large print and squinting through her reading glasses, tolerating the good-natured teasing of the two in the water. One, an older man, is wearing neon green shorts and a shirt proclaiming that Red Robin be voted President. The other, around 20 years old or so, is pretending to be a dog, throwing sticks for himself to go fetch out of the current.
There are two children playing loudly in the shallows, shrieking and throwing handfuls of water at one another. Both have garish yellow lifevests on and beige swim trunks that are too large. Several times, the audience one the shore is treated to an eyeful and a raspy-voiced woman yells at the kids to pull up their drawers. I assume she is their mother.
Finally, there is a couple that appears to be training their young black lab, Java. Their method seems to be related to constant anger at the dog, at other people, at each other, and at the river. Java, in my opinion, is performing beautifully. I overhear that she is 18 months old, and is a trained service animal. I assume seeing eye dog, but neither of the couple handling her is blind, as evidenced by them playing catch with each other with the dog's tennis ball. The woman misses a catch and Java dives into the river after the ball, earning shouted threats and repeated COME HERE. COME HERE, DAMMIT, as she struggles against the current, prize in her mouth. Java reaches the woman on the shore and stands playfully, dripping, proud. The woman yanks the ball from the dog's mouth and angrily tells Java to SIT, as the man shouts COME HERE. Java, indecisive, does neither, but stands alertly, eyes trained on the ball. The woman growls and smacks Java on the snout: Java whimpers and looks the woman in the face. SIT. Java sits. DOWN. Java lies down. The woman gets angrier and stamps her foot inches from the dog's front paw. ALL THE WAY. Java puts her head on the ground, still looking up at the woman's face. Damn dog, the woman grumbles. She drops the ball in front of Java's face. Java comes up into a half crouch and snatches for the ball, earning a kick from the woman. The kick misses and the woman grabs the dog's ear and forces her to lie down again. LIE DOWN, I SAID. The man, far away, shouts GIT at the dog and hurls a large stone into the river. Java strains to go and get the rock, but the woman has her ear. Irate, the woman lets the dog go and walks angrily to the man, yelling about authority and undermining and damn dog and all sorts of things.
The raspy-voiced woman collects her children and leaves.
Java is in the middle of the river, looking for the rock. She's paddling furiously, but the current is carrying her downstream. The man throws her ball in the river. GIT. GIT IT. Java looks, finds the ball, and begins swimming back to shore. FASTER, the woman screams. Java is fighting the current faster, leaping ahead occasionally like a seal, but still losing ground. This infuriates the man.
Another dog owner has arrived with his border collie mix and innocently throws a ball for his dog.
Java's man jokingly calls for Java to "git" the new ball... Java immediately drops her ball and swims back out for the other. Obligingly, the border collie rescues Java's ball, which the owner finds amusing, handing it back to the angry woman, who is nice to him, but turns huffily to the man. Java retreives the second ball and is making progress back to shore. FASTER, comes the command, and she obediantly churns faster, holding her own against the current and making a slow drift to the shore. She finds her feet and surges through the water in big arcing splashes to come to the man's feet. He scowls at her and shouts at her to DROP IT. She doesn't want to. DROP THE FUCKING BALL. Java does. SIT. LIE DOWN. Java lies down, but the man is angry that his dog "stole" the other dog's ball. ALL THE WAY. Java is still partially in the river and doesn't want to, as her head would be underwater. The man hits her in the snout.
I am mildly outraged. Java was following commands.
The woman shouts at her boyfriend not to hit the dog because it's her father's. The man lobs the retreived ball through the air to the border collie owner, who catches it. His dog is playing with his children now, and he has been watching Java and her people with disapproval. He points out that Java was being perfectly obedient to her commands. The angry man is angry at this, and kicks at Java again. She creeps forward to the shallows and puts her head on the ground. The border collie owner calls to his children. It's time to go.
The woman has made it upriver to the man and the dog. She grabs Java's collar and drags her out of the river with it. Java wheezes and immediately sags to the ground once the woman drops her, looking upwards at the woman's face. The woman is upset and yells unintelligibly at the dog, who eventually puts her head on the ground and looks away. This angers the woman more: she snatches Java's choke collar and drags her up to standing with it. Java whines a little and scrambles to her feet, still not making eye contact. The woman grabs Java's muzzle and forces the dog to look her in the face.
The man gestures urgently towards an opening in the forest. An older man appears, wearing a faded hawaiian-print t-shirt and ragged shorts. The angry woman drops Java's head and is suddenly all smiles. It's her father, come to play with his dog at the river. He greets the couple, who are miraculously no longer angry, and says thank you to them for watching Java for a couple of hours.
I wonder if he knows what they do to her when he's not around.
Java is now the most precious animal. Everyone in the group is excited when she retrieves a ball thrown across the river (literally: the other shore) by the older man, and she is praised. She adores him. Once, the woman's control slips when Java is frolicking in the shallows. GIT she commands, pointing at her feet. STOP MESSING AROUND. The older man frowns. That's enough, he growls at the woman.
He must know.
The angry woman storms upriver with her angry man, and the older male sighs and thows a ball half-heartedly for Java. She gives him a dour look, leaps, gets the ball from the shallows, and returns, offering it to his hand. He steps farther back and chucks the ball a fair distance downstream. Java dives in and goes for it. She's getting a little tired and it's taking her a while to swim back to shore. The man sighs again, shakes his head a little and walks down to meet her where she should come ashore, which is where I'm sitting.
I ask him if Java is his. He says yes, and that he apologizes for his daughter. I ask him if he lets them take care of Java often. He looks out at the river where Java is swimming stolidly back and tells me that Java is a Post Traumatic Stress dog, usually given to veterans. She's 18 months. I nod some, and he tells me that dogs belong with veterans because humans are inherently animalistic and evil. Veterans are more evil than most, and thus should have dogs. He quotes me numbers about jails and taxes while Java clambers up from the river. He takes the ball from her and gives it a gentle toss into the woods, where she disappears in the undergrowth.
I stand up and collect my things. Java emerges from the woods with her ball and looks at me once, in the eyes, before leaping into the river.
The angry couple, upriver, are walking back, angrier, and drinking from a soda the man added to from a flask.
The older man tells me that all criminals, no matter what, should receive the death penalty.
I leave.
I went to the river today, after filling out my I9 and taking some pictures of campus to share.
There I am, sitting on the bank of the river, watching people float by on rafts and innertubes, kids playing by the shore, adventurous birds swimming downriver.
There is a woman supervising two child-like adults swimming. She occasionally asks me nervously if she has a spider on the back of her shirt. She never does. She sits mostly quietly, reading some book with large print and squinting through her reading glasses, tolerating the good-natured teasing of the two in the water. One, an older man, is wearing neon green shorts and a shirt proclaiming that Red Robin be voted President. The other, around 20 years old or so, is pretending to be a dog, throwing sticks for himself to go fetch out of the current.
There are two children playing loudly in the shallows, shrieking and throwing handfuls of water at one another. Both have garish yellow lifevests on and beige swim trunks that are too large. Several times, the audience one the shore is treated to an eyeful and a raspy-voiced woman yells at the kids to pull up their drawers. I assume she is their mother.
Finally, there is a couple that appears to be training their young black lab, Java. Their method seems to be related to constant anger at the dog, at other people, at each other, and at the river. Java, in my opinion, is performing beautifully. I overhear that she is 18 months old, and is a trained service animal. I assume seeing eye dog, but neither of the couple handling her is blind, as evidenced by them playing catch with each other with the dog's tennis ball. The woman misses a catch and Java dives into the river after the ball, earning shouted threats and repeated COME HERE. COME HERE, DAMMIT, as she struggles against the current, prize in her mouth. Java reaches the woman on the shore and stands playfully, dripping, proud. The woman yanks the ball from the dog's mouth and angrily tells Java to SIT, as the man shouts COME HERE. Java, indecisive, does neither, but stands alertly, eyes trained on the ball. The woman growls and smacks Java on the snout: Java whimpers and looks the woman in the face. SIT. Java sits. DOWN. Java lies down. The woman gets angrier and stamps her foot inches from the dog's front paw. ALL THE WAY. Java puts her head on the ground, still looking up at the woman's face. Damn dog, the woman grumbles. She drops the ball in front of Java's face. Java comes up into a half crouch and snatches for the ball, earning a kick from the woman. The kick misses and the woman grabs the dog's ear and forces her to lie down again. LIE DOWN, I SAID. The man, far away, shouts GIT at the dog and hurls a large stone into the river. Java strains to go and get the rock, but the woman has her ear. Irate, the woman lets the dog go and walks angrily to the man, yelling about authority and undermining and damn dog and all sorts of things.
The raspy-voiced woman collects her children and leaves.
Java is in the middle of the river, looking for the rock. She's paddling furiously, but the current is carrying her downstream. The man throws her ball in the river. GIT. GIT IT. Java looks, finds the ball, and begins swimming back to shore. FASTER, the woman screams. Java is fighting the current faster, leaping ahead occasionally like a seal, but still losing ground. This infuriates the man.
Another dog owner has arrived with his border collie mix and innocently throws a ball for his dog.
Java's man jokingly calls for Java to "git" the new ball... Java immediately drops her ball and swims back out for the other. Obligingly, the border collie rescues Java's ball, which the owner finds amusing, handing it back to the angry woman, who is nice to him, but turns huffily to the man. Java retreives the second ball and is making progress back to shore. FASTER, comes the command, and she obediantly churns faster, holding her own against the current and making a slow drift to the shore. She finds her feet and surges through the water in big arcing splashes to come to the man's feet. He scowls at her and shouts at her to DROP IT. She doesn't want to. DROP THE FUCKING BALL. Java does. SIT. LIE DOWN. Java lies down, but the man is angry that his dog "stole" the other dog's ball. ALL THE WAY. Java is still partially in the river and doesn't want to, as her head would be underwater. The man hits her in the snout.
I am mildly outraged. Java was following commands.
The woman shouts at her boyfriend not to hit the dog because it's her father's. The man lobs the retreived ball through the air to the border collie owner, who catches it. His dog is playing with his children now, and he has been watching Java and her people with disapproval. He points out that Java was being perfectly obedient to her commands. The angry man is angry at this, and kicks at Java again. She creeps forward to the shallows and puts her head on the ground. The border collie owner calls to his children. It's time to go.
The woman has made it upriver to the man and the dog. She grabs Java's collar and drags her out of the river with it. Java wheezes and immediately sags to the ground once the woman drops her, looking upwards at the woman's face. The woman is upset and yells unintelligibly at the dog, who eventually puts her head on the ground and looks away. This angers the woman more: she snatches Java's choke collar and drags her up to standing with it. Java whines a little and scrambles to her feet, still not making eye contact. The woman grabs Java's muzzle and forces the dog to look her in the face.
The man gestures urgently towards an opening in the forest. An older man appears, wearing a faded hawaiian-print t-shirt and ragged shorts. The angry woman drops Java's head and is suddenly all smiles. It's her father, come to play with his dog at the river. He greets the couple, who are miraculously no longer angry, and says thank you to them for watching Java for a couple of hours.
I wonder if he knows what they do to her when he's not around.
Java is now the most precious animal. Everyone in the group is excited when she retrieves a ball thrown across the river (literally: the other shore) by the older man, and she is praised. She adores him. Once, the woman's control slips when Java is frolicking in the shallows. GIT she commands, pointing at her feet. STOP MESSING AROUND. The older man frowns. That's enough, he growls at the woman.
He must know.
The angry woman storms upriver with her angry man, and the older male sighs and thows a ball half-heartedly for Java. She gives him a dour look, leaps, gets the ball from the shallows, and returns, offering it to his hand. He steps farther back and chucks the ball a fair distance downstream. Java dives in and goes for it. She's getting a little tired and it's taking her a while to swim back to shore. The man sighs again, shakes his head a little and walks down to meet her where she should come ashore, which is where I'm sitting.
I ask him if Java is his. He says yes, and that he apologizes for his daughter. I ask him if he lets them take care of Java often. He looks out at the river where Java is swimming stolidly back and tells me that Java is a Post Traumatic Stress dog, usually given to veterans. She's 18 months. I nod some, and he tells me that dogs belong with veterans because humans are inherently animalistic and evil. Veterans are more evil than most, and thus should have dogs. He quotes me numbers about jails and taxes while Java clambers up from the river. He takes the ball from her and gives it a gentle toss into the woods, where she disappears in the undergrowth.
I stand up and collect my things. Java emerges from the woods with her ball and looks at me once, in the eyes, before leaping into the river.
The angry couple, upriver, are walking back, angrier, and drinking from a soda the man added to from a flask.
The older man tells me that all criminals, no matter what, should receive the death penalty.
I leave.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wednesday.
 |
| Tramontina pots and pans, brand new |
Today: not much done. Am taking a break currently between dinner and watering the lawn and washing-seasoning my new pots and pans. Earlier, I slept in, read a book and, uh... moved some stuff around in my room. Unpacked some DVDs. Went to the store, spent exactly $87.65 on assorted groceries (which I find hilarious and distressing at the same time) and am now chilling and hoping my back stops hurting as mysteriously as it began hurting. Must be a posture problem.
 |
| My yard, already much greener and happier. |
 |
| Bookshelf, showing some reading books! |
Note: I have discovered that I hate Apricot Ale. I've had it before on draft, but I must have had something wrong with me. It's terrible. I prefer the taste of the cooking sherry I bought.
Currently reading: Grass for His Pillow
Also not as good as I remember, but I've grown up a lot since I last read it, unlike the beer experience. Ugh. Still such a terrible taste. Really, super not on my favorite list.
Book is alright, though. Nicely historical.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Update Two
I'm bored, so you all get another update today. Look! So exciting.
Also, I met my behind-me neighbors, Peter (from Nigeria?) and A____ (from Pakistan?), and a next-door neighbor, Adil (who is an English teacher from Morocco). Interesting set of people. Adil kindly warned me that I would need a social security number to work in the United States. :)
 |
| My dinner of bell peppers and steak. |
 |
| My completed bookshelf with some books on it. |
Also, I met my behind-me neighbors, Peter (from Nigeria?) and A____ (from Pakistan?), and a next-door neighbor, Adil (who is an English teacher from Morocco). Interesting set of people. Adil kindly warned me that I would need a social security number to work in the United States. :)
Boise State!
 | |
| Broncocard, complete with grinning me | ! |
Spent yesterday attending a TA Orientation workshop, where I met a bunch of my fellow Geology graduate students and TAs. We hung out for the day and went out for beers following the Orientation (and getting such necessities as a BroncoCard). After beers we all walked around for a bit, traded numbers and split to go home. I cooked myself a nice slurry of bell peppers and thinly sliced steak.
 |
| Slurry of foods |
I'm impressed with the campus - everything is really quite nice and green and well kept. The sidewalks are mended and free of leaves and grass clippings, etc, the trees are healthy and well pruned, and the statues placed around campus are pretty (but I have no pictures yet) and understandable (uh, they're all horses).
I took a 2 mile long bike ride along the Boise Greenbelt - gorgeous and sweaty. I was nicely asked to leave Albertson's headquarters building after I decided to explore a little off the riverside path - the building is super pretty, but I suppose I 'missed' the NO TRESPASSING sign. Whatever. They connected a beautifully landscaped path to a public landscaped path that has parks along it - what else should they expect? At least they were nice.
 |
| My desk. The green vase up top is a DIY. |
The green vase on top of my desk is self made from a string of christmas lights, garland and a green vase from Fred Meyer. It casts a soft blue glow, but I might have to unmake it because the lights heat up quite a lot, and I'm worried about it setting itself on fire. If I monitor it, I'm sure it'll all work out, but I don't want to have to do that (because I'll forget and then the duplex will burn down).
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Trepidation in my heart
Tomorrow (well, later today) is the last day of packing for my move to Boise. I'm going to grad school there for my Master's in Geoscience... it's a long way away from my parents and friends here in Washington.
Boise also presents a fresh start - nobody there knows me, and I can re-invent myself, after a fashion. I have an opportunity to present facets of my personality developed over the last couple of years in undergrad, but not shown or hidden behind previously stronger aspects of my personality that were familiar to those around me. Nothing drastic; simply a few upgrades like less swearing, better clothes and hopefully a little maturity.
I'm not too worried about the fact that I won't have friends initially - I make friends somewhat easily and I am sort of a loner type anyway. I'm mostly unhappy that I'm leaving Tim behind - essentially living with your best friend for two years tends to make you loathe to leave. I'll admit I cried when we said goodbye. We both did. Even now, sitting in Kent, I feel like we're so much farther away than normal. I know it's psychological, but it doesn't stop me from suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable. It's a feeling I know will fade when I get out in the world and am faced with my own pressing concerns - after all, I didn't meet Tim until I was 20, which means I have 20 years of experience living without him. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
Trepidation - I'm anxious about meeting my roommate, moving my things (of which I'm sure I have too many), surviving the ensuing vacation to Yellowstone, leaving Tim, surviving TA orientation and the first week or so of classes, forgetting the important things and focusing on the trivial... but I recognize all of these things and thus I am forewarned.
Boise also presents a fresh start - nobody there knows me, and I can re-invent myself, after a fashion. I have an opportunity to present facets of my personality developed over the last couple of years in undergrad, but not shown or hidden behind previously stronger aspects of my personality that were familiar to those around me. Nothing drastic; simply a few upgrades like less swearing, better clothes and hopefully a little maturity.
I'm not too worried about the fact that I won't have friends initially - I make friends somewhat easily and I am sort of a loner type anyway. I'm mostly unhappy that I'm leaving Tim behind - essentially living with your best friend for two years tends to make you loathe to leave. I'll admit I cried when we said goodbye. We both did. Even now, sitting in Kent, I feel like we're so much farther away than normal. I know it's psychological, but it doesn't stop me from suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable. It's a feeling I know will fade when I get out in the world and am faced with my own pressing concerns - after all, I didn't meet Tim until I was 20, which means I have 20 years of experience living without him. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Dark Tower
So I saw _The Dark Tower_ comic books for sale when Tim and I visited the comic shop at Pike's Place Market around two weeks ago. As I currently have around $3.45 in all of my bank accounts put together, comics aren't really in my budget, especially because I have an upcoming move to Boise to finance!
I admit it: I took the lowdown no-good skanky way out of things: I found a torrent of the Dark Tower series. It's pretty nice, actually; good quality scans (I assume) of the comic books, which were apparently beautifully printed on beautiful paper, because there are little to no artifacts preserved.
I have devoured the first four issues in the last hour. It's a little painful to read them on a 13" laptop screen, but, I mean, I'm not paying for them. I wish I could, though; the comics are beautifully drawn, colored, lettered and scripted (not in that order?), and I hope that there are many more of them!
When I get some monays, Marvel, I'll be back at that shop to buy these exact comics at their current market value. Perhaps in one of those sleek omnibus editions if you have them out by then. I promise.
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