I'm restless. I spent all day in the chemistry lab (With a fantastic group of kids - the lab took 3x as long as it should have, and they really didn't complain. Complain to me, at least!), I realize I'm still grieving losses I thought I was over (though some external things are exacerbating it all right now - more on that at some point), and I'm very nearly though with the busiest week yet. I could really use a nap.
Since it's been a while since I posted anything , I don't quite know where to start. I still have a bunch of half-finished blog-starts. I'm distractable, but with nothing to distract. My phone battery is dead, my iPod battery is dead, I don't have any books I want to read, my google reader material has been read, and I have 30 minutes before I need to be somewhere. And I certainly don't want to do any work. So. Restlessness begets blogging, I suppose.
Jess and I defined the complementary difference in our personalities this week. I've long operated under the notion that I regret the things I don't do far more than I regret anything that I do. "Deliberate" is a positive character trait, to me. I mean, I rarely get into scrapes, try really hard not to put my foot in my mouth, make very thoughtful and safe decisions, and often think and think and think before I act or speak - sometimes never acting because I'm stuck thinking. Not that it's necessarily better than the alternative. Both have their clear advantages and disadvantages. Anyhow, we were discussing a good potential list - Things We Vow Never to Do Again. And I had a really hard time coming up with bullet points. I have an endless list of items on a list of Things I Wish I Had Done.
When I consider such a list, one thing that invariably comes up is a missed opportunity my senior year of college. Not so much a missed opportunity, but something I wish I'd played out a little longer, just to see where it could have gone. I was about to graduate, and I had been looking for employment. I'd had a couple interviews, including a completely insulting offer by a meteorological company that I will not name. One lead was particularly interesting, and particularly well-suited to my interests: a job forecasting weather for publication in two moderate-size Great-Lakes-Region city newspapers, plus writing feature weather articles. Have I mentioned my undergraduate research thesis on lake-effect snowfall climatology and my affinity for both forecasting and writing? Well. I had a couple e-mail exchanges with the person in charge of hiring for the position, including writing a sample weather article. Things were looking favorably, and I even found a nifty apartment in a converted row house in a genteel older part of one of the cities. But then, staying for graduate school started to present as the better option. I was getting married in a year, and I really did want a graduate degree. Seemed more prudent to stay. So I e-mailed the guy with whom I'd been corresponding, to let him know of my decision. And it's not like I regret for one second the path my life has taken since that decision - it's been infinitely better than I ever could have imagined, in extremely surprising ways - but I do wish I'd waited just a couple more weeks or so, to see whether I'd have been officially offered anything, and what the offer would have been. Interestingly, when I had finished my graduate work, I tried to get in contact with the papers, just to see if the position had ever been filled, and it had vaporized. No response from the guy, and it looks like the newspapers had contracted with an outside firm for their weather pages. It has been my experience that doors I'm not supposed to take shut clearly and firmly, pressing me onto a specific path. Here, however, was a door I feel I closed forever, of my own volition. And I slightly regret not opening the door a little wider and having taken a better look. It's a cost of the measure of free will we're given, I guess. The second-guessing, the wondering. Not that it plagues me, it's just one of those what-ifs that spark curiosity. And I can't know - maybe that door would have closed on its own, in time.
Another topic of discussion lately is the notion of "mine". As an only child, I have a keenly-developed sense of "mine". It's not like I had to share my toys with many people as I was growing up. Siblinged people have a much more finely-tuned sense of "my turn". I've learned to give more of myself and my possessions, but I hold some things quite precious, and that's not limited to what is tangible. Words, situations, time periods, too. Anyhow, here is my list of things that are MINE. Things I don't like people to touch, use, etc, for whatever reason.
Mine!
1. My pens.
I don't really like to lend my cheap G2s, much less my fountain pens. Besides, pens mold to their users' writing styles. It's like trying to wear secondhand shoes or something.
2. My calculator.
I've had it since high school. It's boss. And students walk off with calculators. Hence my rule that classroom calculator-borrowing requires collateral - a shoe. But my own personal calculator? You're far within the circle of trust if I let you use my TI-68.
3. My Galileo Thermometer.
It's not for picking up and shaking!
4. My letters of recommendation.
5. My car seat settings.
Since it's been a while since I posted anything , I don't quite know where to start. I still have a bunch of half-finished blog-starts. I'm distractable, but with nothing to distract. My phone battery is dead, my iPod battery is dead, I don't have any books I want to read, my google reader material has been read, and I have 30 minutes before I need to be somewhere. And I certainly don't want to do any work. So. Restlessness begets blogging, I suppose.
Jess and I defined the complementary difference in our personalities this week. I've long operated under the notion that I regret the things I don't do far more than I regret anything that I do. "Deliberate" is a positive character trait, to me. I mean, I rarely get into scrapes, try really hard not to put my foot in my mouth, make very thoughtful and safe decisions, and often think and think and think before I act or speak - sometimes never acting because I'm stuck thinking. Not that it's necessarily better than the alternative. Both have their clear advantages and disadvantages. Anyhow, we were discussing a good potential list - Things We Vow Never to Do Again. And I had a really hard time coming up with bullet points. I have an endless list of items on a list of Things I Wish I Had Done.
When I consider such a list, one thing that invariably comes up is a missed opportunity my senior year of college. Not so much a missed opportunity, but something I wish I'd played out a little longer, just to see where it could have gone. I was about to graduate, and I had been looking for employment. I'd had a couple interviews, including a completely insulting offer by a meteorological company that I will not name. One lead was particularly interesting, and particularly well-suited to my interests: a job forecasting weather for publication in two moderate-size Great-Lakes-Region city newspapers, plus writing feature weather articles. Have I mentioned my undergraduate research thesis on lake-effect snowfall climatology and my affinity for both forecasting and writing? Well. I had a couple e-mail exchanges with the person in charge of hiring for the position, including writing a sample weather article. Things were looking favorably, and I even found a nifty apartment in a converted row house in a genteel older part of one of the cities. But then, staying for graduate school started to present as the better option. I was getting married in a year, and I really did want a graduate degree. Seemed more prudent to stay. So I e-mailed the guy with whom I'd been corresponding, to let him know of my decision. And it's not like I regret for one second the path my life has taken since that decision - it's been infinitely better than I ever could have imagined, in extremely surprising ways - but I do wish I'd waited just a couple more weeks or so, to see whether I'd have been officially offered anything, and what the offer would have been. Interestingly, when I had finished my graduate work, I tried to get in contact with the papers, just to see if the position had ever been filled, and it had vaporized. No response from the guy, and it looks like the newspapers had contracted with an outside firm for their weather pages. It has been my experience that doors I'm not supposed to take shut clearly and firmly, pressing me onto a specific path. Here, however, was a door I feel I closed forever, of my own volition. And I slightly regret not opening the door a little wider and having taken a better look. It's a cost of the measure of free will we're given, I guess. The second-guessing, the wondering. Not that it plagues me, it's just one of those what-ifs that spark curiosity. And I can't know - maybe that door would have closed on its own, in time.
Another topic of discussion lately is the notion of "mine". As an only child, I have a keenly-developed sense of "mine". It's not like I had to share my toys with many people as I was growing up. Siblinged people have a much more finely-tuned sense of "my turn". I've learned to give more of myself and my possessions, but I hold some things quite precious, and that's not limited to what is tangible. Words, situations, time periods, too. Anyhow, here is my list of things that are MINE. Things I don't like people to touch, use, etc, for whatever reason.
Mine!
1. My pens.
I don't really like to lend my cheap G2s, much less my fountain pens. Besides, pens mold to their users' writing styles. It's like trying to wear secondhand shoes or something.
2. My calculator.
I've had it since high school. It's boss. And students walk off with calculators. Hence my rule that classroom calculator-borrowing requires collateral - a shoe. But my own personal calculator? You're far within the circle of trust if I let you use my TI-68.
3. My Galileo Thermometer.
It's not for picking up and shaking!
4. My letters of recommendation.
5. My car seat settings.
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