scottahill

I'm on the chapter about Freud (I thought he'd come up eventually), and I've just gotta say: "penis envy" has to be one of the most ridiculous theories to ever be taken seriously by science. Granted, I have a hard time imagining life without one, but surely most women never notice the lack (barring perhaps on camping trips?) As a metaphor for male freedom in a Victorian age, it might make sense, but the idea that little girls are literally envious when they see that bit of flesh, so much so that it changes (one might say destroys) their life? Absurd.

I don't know if Freud was obsessed about sex, but he was definitely a little too overawed by his package. Or perhaps he had massive castration anxiety? Or maybe he was castrated, and didn't let the secret out?

I dunno. Just had to say that.

If you haven't seen Tina Fey's turn as Sarah Palin on SNL last night, you should. I'll try to embed it here; if that doesn't work, search YouTube for "fey palin snl".

Forecasts say that Hurricane Ike will past east of Dallas, so we won't get the worst of the storm. Still, we're in for 35mph winds tomorrow (50mph gusts), rain all day, and the potential for power outages. It's the last I'm worried about, particularly extended power outages. We've got a birthday party for Miriam planned for Sunday afternoon. Ike will be out of the way by then, and hopefully the aftermath won't ruin it.

Teaching class hs always been draining, but I've been particularly nervous this semester. I think my self-confidence is down (as I've mentioned) due to various inputs, along with lingering discouragement about my career. Add in the fact that I haven't taught in three months (not a big deal normally, but this is the first summer I've taken off in a couple of years). Also add in the fact that I've swapped around the usual order for this class, am starting with optics rather than electricity, and furthermore have started with interference and diffraction which are two subjects I don't know nearly enough about (normally they come at the very end and I handwave my way through them). Once I finish with optics and move onto electricity I may feel better.

On the plus side, I am rather proud of my website. It's barebones, but I've got it automated so I can adjust a line or two in a separate file and it will generate the HTML on the fly. I've also added a new RSS feed so that students can be notified when the site is updated: I especially like that idea. :)

In another note: one year ago today we packed up this little creature in her carseat and brought her home. Yes, Miriam is 1 year old today. We're having a party next weekend so we didn't do much today, but we did sing to her and gave her a cupcake. It occurred to us that we're the ones who should be celebrating: we've survived an entire year as parents, and Miriam has not only survived but flourished. Yay for us!

( Random stuff: )

I have little doubt that I suffer from the low-grade chronic variety of depression called dysthymia: it doesn't prevent me from feeling happy or enjoying things, but it is a little dark cloud that shows up in quiet moments, and it doesn't go away (major depression on the other hand tends to dissipate).

As I mentioned in the comments of my last post, the problem with depression is that it is so damn BORING and repetitive. It's all about rumination, chewing the same cud of complaints over and over again, and it tends to feel like there's no progress because one sees the negative thread which binds everything together. When I feel boring, I avoid talking about my feelings to people for fear of boring them, and because the feelings are such a big part of my day, I avoid talking to people in general, and then I feel more isolated and depressed. Downward cycle.

My family, while kind and loving, do tend towards that Old-School "If you'd stop whining and work, you'd feel better" drill-sargeant mentality. WHINING is the word that sums it all up. Am I whining? Where does one draw the line? A lot of my problem might be described as laziness, and certainly there are productive people who want to plop down in front of the TV or stay in bed, but is a depressed person lazy when they can't get out of bed? If not, where do you draw the line? How hard does it have to be to get up and work? We can't even MEASURE that-- there's no way to compare the mental difficulties of two different people with any accuracy.

Maybe I'm asking the wrong question because like a good Catholic I am too focused on the idea of sin. I want to know where the borderline is between sloth and disability. Or maybe it's not a question of sin so much, as how people will judge you that counts. Does it elicit sympathy from people, does it get on their nerves? But that relies on the vagaries of other people: Miriam gets on my nerves sometimes, but that is due to my own lack of patience, not to intransigence on her part.

One thing I do know is that guilt is bad for me: it never motivates me to do good because it comes too late, and it beats me down into self-pity. One needs to take responsibility for one's actions, and resolve not to repeat things that have bad results, but how can one do that without guilt? A different form of discipline, perhaps? Maybe there's a secret lying somewhere in modern parenting techniques, where one disciplines the child without beating them or lashing into them. Can that be adapted to serve as an internal mechanism? Dunno.

ramble off

EDIT:
Another tangent: depression makes one pessimistic, and that makes one a little paranoid about one's friends. I am always looking for signs that I am an annoyance, and a single lukewarm response can start a whole train of self-doubt: "Maybe I've been wrong, and this person isn't really my friend, we only sang together in a group after all, it's not like we spent a lot of individual time together, maybe I'm just part of the whole college package, etc etc, and now here I show up and it's awkward for them and I'm a pest and should stop bugging them and being so needy."

My posting on LiveJournal has been sporadic, partly because I want to write little thematic essays, and I get too wrapped up in getting them right, and then I think "ugh, who wants to slog through this?" and I delete them. As

wavyarms has said, I place too much importance on the written word. Bleh. So I'm going to try to start a habit of daily postings. The only danger is that I will end up repeating myself as I tend to go through the same cycles of self-pity and depression over and over again, so don't say I didn't warn you! At least it will be something to read when you're bored.

* My semester started today with an 11am class; I'm only teaching one class this semester. I was very anxious about it because (a) it's been three months since I taught last (I haven't had that long of a break for a couple of years), and (b) I just read my student evaluations from last semester, and they were kinda bad. One comment was that I tended to rush through important material; unfortunately, this clashes with the opinion of one of the full professors here who says I teach too slowly. These aren't necessarily contradictory-- I'm probably spending a lot of time talking about peripheral issues-- but it's still tough to try to fix both at the same time. The class went well enough: it was friendly, my demos worked more or less, I covered most of what I wanted to cover. I seem incapable of being satisfied, however: oh no, did I go on too long, maybe I shouldn't have covered that topic, did I favor certain students when asking for responses, etc. I'm too pessimistic. There's some career stuff coloring all of this too: it's all too easy to imagine myself doing this part-time teaching for the rest of my career, never really belonging anywhere, not receiving the respect I always imagined I'd get eventually, etc. Damn it, I was valedictorian of my class, I have a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago Physics department...I'm supposed to be doing impressive things! I feel like such a failure sometimes.

* After teaching my class I was exhausted, and wanted to just collapse in a chair and websurf and eat junk food for a few hours. This is my usual post-teaching response, mind you. Unfortunately I couldn't do that because I had to come home to watch Miriam so that Jen went to work. I was a not-very-interesting Daddy today, as a result. Although we did spend some time tonight standing in the middle of the twilit cul-de-sac watching the airplanes fly overhead...doesn't that sound picturesque? She's never really paid attention to airplanes before, even when they flew noisily overhead, but tonight she watched each one go overhead (we must be on the flightpath to DFW...I didn't even notice till this weekend, and wonder if something changed). Maybe it was because they had their lights on. I think she may have even been looking at a couple of stars. Cool beans.

* I was thinking about the feeling of satisfaction today, about how I'd like more instant satisfaction in my life. I feel like teaching and parenting are both more about long-term satisfaction, about looking back on a job well done, but there are some things I used to do which are immediately satisfying. Performing solo (well) is one: unlike with teaching I know when I've kicked butt vocally. Composing is another satisfying activity when it's going well, because I can hear the results and say "Yes, that is cool" and not care if anyone else agrees with me. I need to think about this some more.

I really should be asleep. At 8am tomorrow (more or less) I have to take Miriam off Jen's hands so she can go to work, and if I am sleepy (as I have been the past couple of days) I will have a hard time dealing with her when she's cranky (Miriam, that is). But for some reason I am very tense. I think it's knowing that I should be asleep.

Right now I have Miriam by myself from 8:30am through 6-7pm Monday-Friday, except for nine hours when the babysitter comes. She's mostly a very sweet child, quick to smile, independent, can entertain herself for long periods of time. But the responsibility of watching her alone really wears me down. She has no concept of the need for sleep, and might be able to stay awake all day if I left her to her own devices (although she'd be crying by the end of it). Putting her to sleep means taking her outside in the hot Texas weather and walking her around until her head slumps...not that this always works. I hate being responsible for her diet, because I have enough trouble with my own. She seems to eat so little (other than milk) that I worry I'm not doing something right, not giving her enough food, or not giving her the right foods that she needs/craves/whatever. And even when she's playing by herself or sleeping, I feel too distracted to do anything involving more than a handful of brain cells. Lots of TV watching, websurfing, article reading, game playing. Then, when I do get some time off, I feel the time ticking away: only three hours' free, etc. Or if it's nighttime like now: I really want to do something, but I need to sleep or I'll be miserable tomorrow.

Mind you, it is nighttime and I tend to be at my grayest when I'm tired, but I feel heavy with responsibility and guilt. I need to be "enlightened" but don't know how.

Next week I start teaching again, which means that Jen takes on a larger share of the childcare. I hope that this better mix will be a relief to me, although I have my doubts-- teaching brings its own share of responsibility and guilt (for missed deadlines or hurried lectures).

My usual dysthymic self.

Anyway, I think I'm tired enough to fall asleep now. G'night.

I owe LJ a report of our trip. Short version: lots of fun, nice break, miss having granma to watch Miriam. :)

During the summer, I get 3 three-hour periods a week when the babysitter comes and I get to have time off. In the past, I've spent those periods in restaurants of various sorts, but since I'm so close to UDallas now (and will be teaching there part-time in the fall: it's now official--yay!) I thought I should try to work in my office instead, avoid those calories.

But now I'm here, and there's just something about offices that puts me on edge and makes me not want to work. Maybe it's the sterility, with its pale blue walls. Maybe it's the sound of the blower. Maybe the room's too small, so I feel mildly claustrophobic. Maybe the desk is too high or too low. Maybe it's the SMELL...odors do have a direct connection with the brain, and offices do have a certain antiseptic smell to them. Maybe it's too quiet.

It could just be that I'm bad at getting down to work, of course, but I swear there's something else going on here.

I'm thinking I'll try to get some things to hang from the ceiling over the walls: a mobile, or curtains, or something. See if that helps.

It's getting late and I need to go to bed, but quickly:

1. A reminder that Miriam's inaugural visit to Massachusetts is THIS WEEK, during which we will visit Williamstown (this Tuesday-Thursday),

heefville (Thursday-Friday), and Boston (Friday-Sunday). Miriam would like to pull the hair of as many of you as possible!

2. We are going to have to stay in a motel Tuesday night in Williamstown, and I'd like to find a place which is a step up from the Northside, but just one step (so maybe $100-$120; I'm guessing Northside would be $70-$80/night for weekday.) I see names like "Willows Motel", "Maple Terrace Motel", "Jericho Valley Inn"...does anyone have experience (and therefore praise and/or warnings) with any of these? Are there other places I'm overlooking? No more than 15 minutes from campus, preferably, as we might be going to the theater that night and won't want to drive too far in the dark.

3. What we're doing now: Jen, Miriam, and I have been enjoying our time in Easton with my parents.( Read more... )

Three things I dislike in fiction (which occurred to me while watching the first season of Heroes):

1) Evil shapeshifters who mimic and replace good guys. I'm not saying they're a bad plot device, but they affect me at such a visceral level that I am physically uncomfortable seeing them. Not quite a phobia, but it must be triggering some sort of internal anxiety.

2) Stories without enough hope. Call me old-fashioned, but if the heroes' odds are too long, or their chances too bleak, then I'm not interested. I need to believe that good will triumph in the end, and if it doesn't I'm going to be pissed off. I don't read/watch fiction for despair, I can find plenty of that in the newspaper thank you. Screw realism.

3) Stories where all of humanity (or the entire Universe) is at risk of extinction, and/or most of humanity is wiped out. I can handle run-of-the-mill catastrophes, even the risk of losing an entire city* is okay, but the entire planet? Too dark for me (I think I take it personally). The reason why I have steered clear of Battlestar Galactica, and tend to shy away from post-apocalyptic stories in general. (I once read a book called "A Mirror for Observers", which started out like a typical SF novel, but then 2/3rds of the way through...BAM! a plague wipes out half of humanity. It really pissed me off.)

*I suppose it would be different if it were a place I cared about. E.g. Heroes involves a threat towards NYC, but since I hate Manhattan the storyline doesn't really upset me (not that I'm actually rooting for NYC to be blown up, in real life or in fiction). If the threat were towards eastern PA or western MA, however, I'd be more upset: I tend to fall in love with places, so that a story about a threat to my hometown would be like a story about a threat to one of my friends.

And yes, I get WAY too involved in the fiction I read/watch.

I've just finished reading Elizabeth Moon's "The Speed of Dark", and I highly recommend it. I picked this up because I was looking for something to grab at the library, thought to pick up Moon's "Deed of Paksenarrion" (which I've read once, and keep looking to buy at the used book store) but saw this instead. Has anyone here read it?

The Speed of Dark is set in the near future, and is told (mostly) from the viewpoint of a high-functioning autistic man named Lou. There are little futuristic touches here and there, but the major ones are that (a) at some point, doctors have learned how to train even drastically autistic children so that they can function in society, (b) sometime after that point, doctors learn how to cure autism in infants, meaning that Lou and his friends (in their 30s) are the last autistic generation, and (c) in the course of the book we discover that there is a new experimental technique which might be able to reverse autism in adults as well. The book deals a lot with the ethics of "curing" someone of something which has defined their entire personality. It also deals a lot with autist-autist and autistic-normal relations in what feels like a realistic way, though I would love to get the reactions of some of the Aspergic people I knew in Boston. (Mind you, this book came out in 2002 while I was still in Boston...no wait, I was still in Chicago in 2002.) Mind you, there may be a difference between Aspergic people and Lou, who would be a full-blown autistic person without the treatment interventions.

I think I've mentioned before that I went through a period where I self-diagnosed as having Asperger's Syndrome, going so far as to join the Asperger's Association of New England and attending weekly group meetings. I read the descriptions and the symptoms of Asperger's and found so much there that fit me. After several years, however, I came to the decision that while I may have some difficulties with socializing etc, they were hardly great enough to require a diagnosis (at worst, "social anxiety" would be more appropriate). Reading this book, I started making the same connections, noticing little things that Lou would say or do and feel a great amount of empathy towards him. I hate having people behind me too. I don't like people asking me "Howya doing?" when they don't really want to know. I like finding patterns in floor tiles and ceilings and whatnot. I'm in no way autistic, but one could argue that autism is merely the exaggeration of a particular personality type, one end of the autistic spectrum, and if so then I'm probably somewhere on the scale. It's not a disability for me, and I wouldn't dare claim to understand the difficulties that true autists and Aspergics have in life.

There's been a backlash on Slashdot and other geeky websites against ("backlash against"? "towards"? i dunno what preposition to use) people who self-diagnose as Aspergic or claim to be mildly autistic, and I think much of that backlash is from the mistaken assumption that these people are trying to claim that they are disabled and deserve special treatment and/or waivers for bad behavior. And some of them might very well be doing that. But there is value in identifying yourself with the shallow end of the autistic spectrum, even if you aren't looking for handouts. It can make one feel better about the quirks one already has. It can give one a sense of community. And it can even help one cope better, I think: for example, when Lou and his fellow autists in the book are upset by life, they have a variety of coping mechanisms: bouncing on a trampoline, listening to specific music, looking for patterns, burying oneself in blankets-- maybe the same coping mechanisms, which they have developed because they NEED them, would be helpful to anyone on the spectrum.

OK, time for bed because Miriam is going to wake me up in the morning when she wants to get up, and Jen will want to go to work instead of staying home and letting me sleep in. :P

(Oh P.S. we have successfully moved in to our new house, which is very nice, but I haven't written about it because I haven't felt moved by it and it seems like a long story. I'll get to it soon.)

(I'm afraid posting this message will push my announcements down the queue, so if you haven't seen that post go there now. :)

I'm rereading the Lord of the Rings for the 2^N th time...we're in Lothlorien right now. I was introduced to LoTR from an early age, as my dad would read it to us before bedtime--I was at most 7 years old when he started. It was such a part of our family culture, that it was a shock to reach college and discover that the books were as well-known as they are, kind of like discovering, at age 18, that your Uncle John (Ronald Reuel?) is a world-famous author. We used to play games where we'd have to name a Tolkien character for every letter of the alphabet, and one time when my brother was feeling ill during a camping trip, my dad amused him by pointing to two flies and saying, "Look, there's Fili and Kili!"

Every time I re-read the books I tend to focus on something different. One time I tried to force myself to see the hobbits as adults rather than children, or that Merry is actually male (the name and maybe the character makes me think "female"...and speaking of Merry, that's one character that the movie really changed: in the book, Merry isn't a troublemaker, but is actually more of a Hermione type, particularly in the beginning of the book where he leads the party through the Old Forest.) One time I came up with the theory that, since Gimli was the son of Gloin and Gimli didn't show up in the Hobbit, he was actually born after the Hobbit, and so was one of the younger members of the Fellowship, which colored my perception of some of his behavior in the Two Towers and explained why he became the subsitute Hobbit once the hobbits were gone. (It turns out that the theory was wrong: Gimli was alive during the Hobbit, but just didn't go to the Lonely Mountain with Bilbo. Ah well.)

This time I find myself really focusing on the settings and the weather. That's probably because I'm in Texas during what I find to be the most boring season of the year, summer. I like the sun staying up so long, but otherwise I've always liked summer the least; throw in Texas temperatures and I'm dreaming of fall and a northern clime. I tend to have the bad habit, when reading, of only reading dialogue and skipping the explanatory bits in between, so I'm forcing myself to slow down and enjoy the setting more.

One more thing: Tolkien writes in The Hobbit, in reference to Rivendell, that the best days make the worst stories-- no one wants to read about the bits of the story where the characters get to relax. It's ironic then that Tolkien writes these bits very well, to my mind. I always enjoy reading about Rivendell and Lothlorien and the time after the ring is destroyed. Is this a common opinion?

It occurred to me a few weeks ago that to make a good friend one must make oneself vulnerable to them. If you don't take any risks with someone, then you're not likely to get past a friendly acquaintanceship with them. That seemed right to me, and I know that I've been overly cautious and defensive ever since I got to Chicago ten years ago, which marks the time I stopped making good friends. But then I realized that I am often eager to share my hard-luck stories with people, at the drop of a hat sometimes. At my most recent physics conference, for example, I told several people about not finding a job, having trouble finding a research niche, etc. This is a demonstration of weakness, and isn't that being vulnerable? And yet I know that if I go around whining about how pathetic I am, then that's a good way to annoy people, not to make friends.

I ran this all by my therapist, and he pointed out something I hadn't considered: vulnerability isn't just about demonstrating your weaknesses. Vulnerability can also mean demonstrating your passions, your interests, your emotions. Being silly with people is being vulnerable...when do I get the chance to be silly with people anymore, outside of my family? Now it is true: expressing deep passion for a subject in conversation can overwhelm some people, chase them away, make them avoid you, but it's the best way to find people who share that passion, or that silliness, or that strange interest...and that's how friendships are born.

As I thought about this, I realized just how this has been missing from my life, since college. In college I got silliness (and lots of heated arguments about musical minutiae) from the Bethans, and my thesis advisor would actually get excited about things we'd find. It occurs to me how rare it is to find a physicist who ever seems excited: so many physics profs are so placid-- friendly mostly, sometimes sarcastic, but oh-so-matter-of-fact. I am no way like that: I burn hot and cold, never warm, but I have to hold that back constantly so as not to look out of place. I've gotten the feeling that to become too emotional in conversation will overwhelm the person I'm talking to, make me look like a nut, and embarrass or cause awkwardness (a great sin). I spend so much time tending the dike that holds those emotions in, that I have little energy to spend listening to other people, so I've become self-centered.

I've been thinking for a long time, "Oh, how I wish I had good friends about, so that I could let these walls down and be myself without worrying constantly that I will mortally offend." I now think I have that backwards: I have to let the walls down FIRST, and take the risk that I will offend (pretty hard to offend someone mortally, after all), before I can have the sort of friendships I'm looking for.

One last problem: all this sounds rather egotistical on my part. I spend a lot of time worrying about whether I'm dominating a conversation (another great sin), and the thought of reducing my level of self-censorship seems like I'll just talk about myself even more. I don't know how to handle this. Sometimes the person I'm talking to is also a great self-talker, and then I don't have to hold back, but if they're a quieter sort of person, it's particularly tricky.

Well, enough of that for now.

I first played racquetball in college, where I took it for a PE credit. Turned out that I was pretty good at it...for the first 15 minutes maybe. After that I was exhausted, which made me cranky, which made me a terrible opponent. The teacher said I should do some endurance training, but...duh...racquetball WAS my endurance training. :) After the class I decided I wouldn't be a very good racquetball partner (I have to aim for just the right skill level too: good enough that they can hit the ball most of the time, but not so good that they're going to be firing 90mph balls at me consistently). But because racquetball has the nice feature that the ball comes back to you every time, one can easily play solo, and I've done that off and on since, whenever I had access to a racquetball court. It's the only activity I know where I will willingly drive myself into a sweat so fast: if I try running, I give up quickly; bicycling, I might get off and walk or pick a different route; but that little blue ball has my number.

I haven't played for a couple years, since I was a post-doc at Northeastern at fact (last time I had free access to a court), but since I've gained about 20 pounds since Miriam was born (Jen, it should be noted, is back to her pre-pregnancy weight) I decided it was time to find a court. I thought I'd go play at SMU, but it turns out there's an athletic club just down the road with courts (it should be noted that not every gym has racquetball courts, so they can be hard to find). It won't be a convenient location when we move in July (I have mentioned that, right?) but for the next month it is ideal. They wanted $70 for a month's membership or $10/day. I'm thinking I'll probably only go once a week, so I'm going with the $10/day. I went for the first time today.

I've been building it up in my mind for a couple weeks now, so I was worried I'd hate it once I got there, but it was indeed as fun as I remember, and I was still pretty good...for the first 10 minutes. :) I played on for about 50 minutes, with pauses, though: probably the best workout I've had for months if not years. One thing that didn't work: I was looking forward to using my iPod while playing, because I was never able to listen to music before because I had CD players and tape players which don't work well when you're jumping around. However, I found the music to be a distraction rather than motivation. Interesting, that.

I don't know if I mentioned that we are moving over to Irving (other side of the city) in July, so we'll be closer to work (it's only a short-term situation; we're moving to Toledo in the winter). It wouldn't be worth the drive to come over here to play racquetball, but it turns out I won't have to: the city of Irving has recreation centers, and a couple of them have racquetball courts, which you can access with a yearly membership fee of $25. Very sweet. :)

http://www.eyezmaze.com/eyezblog_en/blog/2005/09/grow_cube.html

The rules are simple: click the ten symbols in the right order, so that they all get "Lvl: max" at the end. (It will say congratulations at the very end.)

The website http://www.eyezmaze.com has a number of flash games like this: rather strange and captivating, and absolutely no instructions!

The comments are interesting from a sociological point of view, too.

As I promised to a few of you, Jen, Miriam, and I are going to come up to Massachusetts for a week or so next week, Boston and Williamstown, to make up for Miriam's absence from the Bethans reunion. We are looking at either late July or early August for the trip, and I wanted to ask those of you in MA if there are any dates in there that you won't be in town or around for a visit. We'd like to ~~show off Miriam~~ see as many of you as we can. Please respond here or email me soon so we can get the plane tickets before the prices double.

Also, if anyone wants lots of extra baby time, we wouldn't turn down a place to stay...crib not required, although a good-sized bed would be useful.

Business out of the way, I should give y'all an update on Miriam and also on us old folks:

( Miriam )

( Us )

Wanted to recommend a webcomic I just stumbled across:

http://www.slowwave.com/

It is actually billed as a "collective dream diary": people send in descriptions of their dreams, and the artist draws them in comic strip form. It is very very funny.

I was just reminded forcefully of the reason I want to move North as soon as possible, with the appearance of the summer's first cockroach. I can't say that EVERYTHING is bigger in Texas, but the roaches sure are: about the size of your thumb (quite seriously, though to be honest I've never let one get close enough to my thumb to check), which is way too big for a bug. It looks like you could serve it up with a side of melted butter at Red Lobster.

Both of us hate dealing with roaches (I squeal), but Jen doesn't mind disposing of them once they're dead. I, on the other hand, am about equally freaked out about them live or dead (maybe I'm afraid of zombie cockroaches?), so I can at least relegate the task of disposing of the corpse to Jen. (She's also in charge of any mice/rats in the house, as she spends all day working with them.)

So my talk went pretty well. It was a small audience (4 people) as I expected, but it was well-received. I even had someone come up to me this afternoon and ask me for the gist, since he'd missed the talk earlier. Pretty cool. I'm hoping to show the results to Bar-Yam when he comes, some time before his scheduled talk on Wednesday (although there's something I have to prepare myself for: it is entirely natural, when presenting research to someone who knows the background, for that person to look for weaknesses and whatnot, just as part of the scientific process. I'm not sure I'm immune to the criticism.)

Although I didn't have to work on my talk this afternoon, I did find myself working on a queueing simulation, instead of listening to some talks. Conferences always inspire me to start new research projects, and not even necessarily in any field being discussed. I think it's because conferences are the only time I allow myself to be all about research. Outside, I only do research in bits and pieces, and don't give myself the time to think of new things to do. SO when I get here, it gets released and I want to do this work, when it would be more appropriate to network and talk with people and listen to talks and save the work for later. If I want to be a physicist full-time, I need to give more time and respect to the research side of my career than I do now.

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scottahill

September 2010

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Reading through the Feminine Mystique, continued

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