Ninth Week-Term 1

Monday:

Today I attended my first official Rotary luncheon (District 1060). Terry Bond, my original contact whilst still overseas, was my acting host for the day. Might I say, a lovely group of people, indeed. We dined on soup, bread, sauce-covered delicacies, and jovial conversations. I had the unique privilege of being the only female at the table. The men, all seemingly long-time friends, threw jibes at one another and gave each a 'good ribbing'. I was well entertained.

The speaker was Paul Carvell, Chair of North Warwickshire Chamber of Commerce. He spoke of infrastructure, job prospects, the uniqueness of N. Warwickshire commerce, and the social aspect of their growth (or lack thereof, depending on your perspective). Very intriguing, I must say.

Mr. Carvell said something particularly interesting toward the end which resonated for days... still is, as a matter of fact. He speculated that if The Tube was a city planning proposal for London today, it would probably fail. A feature of London that is so ingrained in the minds of people, a truly wondrous transportation system, that it is near impossible to imagine the metropolis without. Yet, he speculated that, given the mentality of the people today, counter arguments of a fairly rational nature would kill the project in its infancy. "We already have good roads, plenty of cars, taxis, even a bus system. Why do we need to sink more money into a massive project that will tear up neighbourhoods and put people out?" Food for thought...

There were also plenty of attorneys at the table. This set my mind wondering and I became temporarily lost for pondering the traditional attorney tag, "You don't have to answer that." Why is it so important for an attorney to say such a thing? Perhaps it is because we standard, run of the mill humans have a compulsion to answer direct questioning. If so, why do we have such a compulsion? Is this, yet again, some throwback from our childhood? As children, we're [practically] punished if we don't answer a direct question from an adult. I can certainly pull up a number of instances from my own experience. We are taught it is the polite thing to do, after all. And let's not forget, politeness is the cornerstone of a healthy society... blah, blah, blah.

Tuesday:

I was treated to a movie today with two other lovely postgrads from my course. We saw Captain Phillips. Exposé on the movie. On my own, I had no desire to see this movie. I vividly remember the news coverage of this event. I remember the animalistic excitement of Americans replaying the Navy Seal actions against the Somalian pirates. I did not want to suffer another story of murder-turned-American pride. However, my curiosity was peaked after hearing the excited reviews from others. So I attended.

Tom Hanks was everything Tom Hanks is. We wished nothing, but the best for his character, because we did not see Captain Phillips, we saw Tom Hanks.... and we Americans adore Tom Hanks. Yes, I too, like to watch Tom Hanks on screen. So the hero factor was a certain.

But what about the bad guys? We hate Somalian pirates, right? I mean, we revelled in their deaths, after all, when the news came through the wires. 

Oh contraire, mon frère. The four unknowns cast as the pirates were magnificent on the big screen. The directing was superb on their parts. The close-ups and disquieted, piercing glares were all the more shocking on screen, and we loved them. We fell in love with our nemesis and found ourselves lamenting their deaths. We knew it was coming, but we hoped all the same. Their deaths created a shock that washed over the theatre. As can happen with a well told story, we saw the human in the monster, just before the final stroke.

Wednesday:

What is this? It is beautiful, but what is it?
Musicians' compulsion to play together. To bond over a shared language, but it's more than familiarity. It's an excitement. It's finding someone who also speaks your language, but has improved upon it. The Other wants to express those improvements, put it all out on the table. Then you come with your improvements. Spread them out for listening pleasure or pain. A mystery until experienced. The product of a musical cocktail, equal parts compulsion and desire, stirred with pride, and a twist of fear.

"Your language is different from mine."
                                          "It's called harmony."

I woke up today from a fully orchestrated dream. I composed another song while dreaming. Haven't done that in..... I don't know how many years.

Then I promptly fell asleep in another morning lecture. Such is life.

Thursday:

Footnotes from Postgraduate Land:

• "There's something positive to be said about low investment (education), small return (job)."
• "The guy in front of us has very impressive ear hair."
• "It's always about assumptions."
• "What we now have is a formula for murder."
• "Look at your suffering. Begin there."
• "discovery -> knowledge -> power -> control"
• "Psychology is mostly irrelevant. It's an academic parlour game."
• "If mechanism is rubbish, what about cyborg science?"
• "You ever commit a move so familiar you must take pause to revel in the sweet state of familiarity? You should."
• "I find long-slumbering players privately waking & quietly, insidiously sneaking out. I hope Crazy stays slumbering."

Friday & Saturday:

Decided to give everyone a treat and cook a (semi)traditional Thanksgiving dinner. It was well worth it.

Eighth Week-Term 1

Monday:

I keep hearing a clock *tick *tick *tick away. A clock that apparently does not exist. I've looked all over this room, but to no avail. Yet I can feel it. Somewhere, I'm certain, there is a collection of machine-crafted gears, interlocking in a perfect, symbiotic relationship, forcing the smallest of delicate springs to *tick *tick *tick in recursive recoiling. This mysterious spring, this bane of my existence, must be. It must! I can feel it. I can feel a current ripple the air and excite the hair cells of my cochlea as surely as I feel my own increasingly rapid heart beat. But when I search for the source, I am left discontent. I look around at the others in the lounge, but to what end? Even if they were privy to this unceasing pulse, what reaction could I hope for to slake my curiosity?

"Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-"

Tuesday:

I and my ilk have passed a threshold. It is no longer within our collective capacity to measure time by hours, minutes, seconds. We cease to exist in a linear progression marked off so succinctly by Greenwich. We have crossed the threshold of known time itself and entered into the Ticktockman's fear-based realm of "Negotiable Delay". We poor, hunched postgrads huddle together, motivated by other-worldly senses and supernatural desires, to negotiate the precise moment when Assessment #3 is officially and unequivocally too late.

Wednesday:

London received snowfall today. Nothing stuck, but it snowed all the same. I was not aware of this. I was aware of the hail falling on me. Hail that, unlike London snow, stuck and stuck and stuck. The one time I found myself wondering along unknown footpaths - in the dark no less - with no relief in sight, it also hailed for the first time this season. In my own way, though, I was relieved. The concept of hail this Texan possesses involves bruising, broken windows, and some element of head trauma. This English "hail" was more along the lines of the slush that comes out of the hand-cranked Snoopy snow cone machines of the 1980s.

Was I upset at this unexpected experience? Not in the least :)
Por qué, you ask? For the simple reason that I was on my way to an equally unexpected dinner party in one of the student housing blocks. That, and also that I have never been packed in ice before. I was packed in ice once I reached the student housing entrance. Now I know what a lobster in the fish market feels like.

Dinner was spectacular. As happens when fabulous people congregate, a simple, generous gesture turned into a full-throttle international fare: quesadillas, guacamole, salsa, refried beans, mexican candy, english sodas, grilled salmon, pizza, thai salad, crisps, peppered steak, cilantro (coriander), honeydew w/ prosciutto, ending in compote topped cheese cake and chia tea straight from India. Espresso was also on the menu, but we all eventually ran out of steam (and tummy space). Mexico, US, Sweden, Thailand, China, Malaysia, and Taiwan were represented at the table.

Thursday:

Today brought the promise of a moment, a single, near instantaneous moment that held the potential to produce anything from a life-altering failure to an unparalleled success. George Loewenstein (Carnegie Mellon University) was the guest speaker at the DR@W Forum. For those readers who don't know, Georgie and I have a past. A twisted, dark, yet sadly brief past.

A couple years ago I applied to his program to earn my PhD while working along side one of the most prolific (if not brilliant) minds of our time in the field of decision making science. Wait, it gets even nerdier. I discovered Loewenstein's work after immersing myself for months in decision science research. My immersion was not for a class. No one expected anything from me. I just simply and quite severely became enthralled with a section of psychology that crossed over into economic & business theory. I loved the effort of a acknowledging the human factor in economic behaviours. I tasted the fruit and it was sweet.

A few days before Loewenstein's talk to our group, I joked that I was going to jump up at the beginning of the Q&A and ask, "Why wasn't I good enough for you 2 years ago!?" I said this as an obvious joke. However, when this afternoon rolled around, nearly everyone I mentioned my joke to showed up to Loewenstein's talk. They had front-row seats to the show. Oh dear....

Loewenstein gave a longer-than-expected talk to a larger-than-expected group. When all was said and done, the students urged and prompted me toward Loewenstein so I could have a heart-to-heart, as it were, with him. At the last second I decided, "What the fuck, let's do this."

I shared my excitement with his work, my previous attempts to join his program, and my present status in Warwick's department. He was naturally taken aback (very interesting), but then committed the same sin as all the rest. He tried to help me understand my rejection from his university's department. Loewenstein suggested that 2nd round applicants have 4.0 GPAs, at least one 800 score on their GRE, stellar letters of recommendation, and it doesn't hurt to have something published or, at the least, in the making. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had all the boxes ticked. So here, for your reading pleasure, are Loewenstein's pearls of wisdom I was able to glean from our conversation:

1) As of today, the University of Warwick has the best all encompassing behavioural program in the world. Which means, I GOT INTO THE BEST BEHAVIOURAL PROGRAM IN THE WORLD (right now). OK!

2) Professors now, including Loewenstein himself, would not have qualified as graduates for the programs they are now employed in. My interpretation: I'm a better qualified graduate student now than Loewenstein was at my stage 20-odd years ago. OK!

3) Loewenstein can be relied upon to tell a candidate what the probabilities are for acceptance. If you don't cut the mustard, he suggests "casting a broader net."

Before parting, I decided to abstain from asking for a picture with him. Call me crazy, but you don't [practically] insult someone then ask for a photo op.

Friday:

I wonder if these streets will haunt my dreams the way places of my childhood do? So many strange alleyways.

Seventh Week-Term 1

Weekend:

Spent a beautiful weekend wondering around, being shuffled around, and touring my new home-base. I attended another movie night with a friend, as well. The movie is local Irish indie film, Once. You can find it on Netflix (at least for now). The story is bitter sweet and nothing I expected. The music is, wow. Here is my favourite song from the movie (youtube). Honestly, watching movies snuggled into a double layer of socks & sweats (aka: tracksuit) has got to be one of the BEST ways to spend a cold, grey afternoon.

Monday:

I walked out of my first lecture today. Nothing as obnoxious as slamming books and storming out, coat flying through the air. I simply didn't agree with the content of the Psychology lecture. At our mid-lecture break I chose to leave and do other things with my time. I came to find out later that I wasn't the only one who took issue with the content.

After the lecture, several postgrads met up for our second yoga session of the term. What a lovely time! Everyone is so receptive to the practice. To drive home my promise that the practice is 'office friendly', I wore a floor-length skirt throughout the entire session. My back felt so alive and relaxed afterward.

The evening brought on bell ringing and more bell ringing, followed by drinks and billiards with an eclectic group of people. Such a melodic ending to a sweet day.

Tuesday:

Met up with a friend on campus for tea for the first time since arriving. We sat on a worn leather couch, in front of a sun-warmed window, and sipped creamy tea. The tea house is called Curiositea. I hope to frequent this establishment more.

Wednesday:

An unexplainable power outage ended our Statistics lecture early. I can't say I was terribly bothered by this.

Thursday:

Received news today that the Liverpool Bell Ringing Extravaganza hit some road-bumps. The cost to attend sky-rocketed due to unforeseen last minute changes. As torn as I was about which decision to make, I chose to remain in Coventry for the weekend and vowed to join the bell ringers for their next extravaganza. I don't usually like to pass on these rare opportunities. Waiting for that proverbial "next time" or "later" is not the type of behaviour that feeds a fulfilling forward momentum. The creed of my brief time on this planet.

Little did she know...

"Little did he know that this simple, seemingly innocuous act would result in his imminent death... I've written papers on 'Little did he know.' I've taught classes on 'Little did he know.' I once gave an entire seminar based upon 'Little did he know.''Little did he know', That means there's something he doesn't know, which means there's something you don't know, did you know that?"

Friday:

Little did she know...

With the fall-through of my Bell Ringing Extravaganza weekend in Liverpool, it was decided that I have dinner with my local Rotary Club hosts, Terry & Carole, tonight. (The Rotary Club of Coventry, District 1060) I had a delicious home-cooked dinner of pasta & veggie/tomato sauce with a side of white wine and some sort of sponge cake with golden syrup, drowned in custard. Delicious. I was so hungry when I arrived that I must admit to eating everything they offered. Thank goodness it was just a two-course meal! Terry & Carole are extremely nice people and I'm so glad I finally got to met them. They offered some great advice for getting around and dining in the UK, as well as scheduling a day out for gift shopping and sight-seeing. They made me feel completely at ease and I only wish now that I had been able to stay longer.

[The rare] Saturday:

Little did she know...

Being unexpectedly home-based allowed me the opportunity to attend a friend's birthday party in Leamington Spa. It was a lovely affair, teaming with a world-wide taste of fun. Wine, liqueurs, limes, gin, people, and birthday cake circled all night. I couldn't stop thinking, however, that the addition of one more guitar, keyboard, or voice would have made the whole affair even better.

Delicious birthday cake on posh new dishes.

I see you.....

Good company. Good night :)

I Said What?

It was supposed to rain.

All day.

But it was gone by lunch hour.

So I took a walk.

War Memorial Park

At the current rate, that's $1602.

The only way to walk - unknown garden paths.

Found a hidden gate.

When I returned, I was treated to a lovely homemade dinner by Vicki. She's from the Philippines and I don't know if her dishes were more reflective of the Philippines or England. Either way, it was delicious! Funny thing, the parts she assumed were to be eaten, I didn't eat much of, and the parts she assumed to be ignored, I ate completely.

Stew: pork belly cubes (i.e. 90% fat), onions?, fresh ginger slices, white cabbage chunks.
Rice: white - not instant.
Side: Pork chops in an unidentified yellow sauce - not mustard.
Drink: wine - light dry white to start, sweeter white to finish.
After dinner: small amount of port, hibiscus tea from Texas.

I ate the ginger slices first. For those of you who don't regularly explore ginger root as a seasoning for savory dishes, it is a lovely experience. But more to the point, the ginger in this dish was yellow (not pink like what I'm used to at home) and not the slightest bit spicy. If I bit into a 1inch slice of ginger at home, I would by crying, coughing, and drinking as much water as possible. This yellow ginger had all the taste, no heat. I had to laugh when Vicki saw me eat one. I didn't expect her to wrinkle her nose and act shocked, but everyone else at the table (Colin and their other long-term house guest Davy) didn't act like it was strange. So we talked about ginger for a while.

I did not eat the pork fat..... at first. I was slicing the end meat off (~.1 oz) and eating it with the other stew bits. But then Vicki seamed concerned that I wasn't eating enough, so I ate most of the fat in my  bowl, gobbled down the rice and pork chop, and politely waved off seconds.

I suppose since the table was 3/4 full of world travelers, all 50+, the conversations were all over the place. No one seemed very anxious to leave the table. My favorite type of atmosphere. We watched a major soccer match after dinner (kind of like the NBA's sweet 16), then retired to the kitchen for more conversation and hibiscus tea.

I was having such a lovely time that I refused to take any pictures. Just too lovely being in the moment.

But before sleep could save me, I felt the oppressive sadness of missing my children & husband. I ended up fixating on one of my more common gestures, caressing their cheeks. Lying there, I could just nearly feel the ultra-soft, plump skin of Zoe's & Blake's faces, and the stubble of Jeff's on the palm of my right hand and finger tips.