Could this be me?

I always wondered if the safety-net of the postgrad life I remembered at Wits was part of the reason I came back to do my PhD. Now I see the symptoms in this recent Piled Higher & Deeper strip.



Some context: The good doctor has told Cecilia that she's allergic to her thesis and also to reality outside of her research manifest after seeing fellow students graduate. Use the 'previous' button on this link to see the 4 previous strips if you need more context. I ♥ PHD Comics :)

So if this thread is to be believed, when will I show symptoms of allergy to my work? Does avoidance of deadlines count?

Boycotting the commercialism of V-day

Yes yes. Maybe I would be more into this Hallmark holiday if I had a SO. For the most part I think that couples should make a tiny little fuss over their partner every day and not just on one designated by the calendar. The level of commercial depravity that V-day has become, leaves me feeling rather sad. If I was in a couple, how would I know that he would make the effort because he feels obliged by society and all the retail efforts or for more sincere motives. Well the truth is I don't have to double guess.

Most V-day's are for me a bit like Charlie Brown's:


(Source)

V-day rant over.

[Edit] Better late than never, today's Over the Hedge comic did make me go "Oh cute".

And in other news...

In this morning's news I bring you a few observations from the life of Terri.

Recently, invited into a mentor's office to help with spreadsheets, I was calm until I heard the phrase "Are you good on (spreadsheet-application-name)?". This was when I panicked; thinking that I had to help with complex computations, vlookup statements I'd only heard about or even use a pivot table properly (as opposed to the playing around I normally do). I like to think that I'm proficient at spreadsheets - I'm in no way a super user but I use the common functions often. I learned from a friend who uses spreadsheets to write music for percussion instruments that spreadsheets can be used for almost any purpose and I use them a lot. As it transpired my mentor needed to add text annotations to a spreadsheet - very simple stuff. This is what I learnt: super smart people may not be spreadsheet people. One day I hope to be both.

Through frustration and fatigue I realised that Pyott's may not really want you to snack on their Provita crackers. This is especially true of the last 10 crackers in the packet. This is based on the fact that they're almost impossible to get out of the packet without force and breakage of crackers. Pyott's if you're listening: what are the chances of the little pull-tab strip on both ends of the packet?

Christmas cards, tweets and squeaks

How will you be sending Christmas wishes this year?



From: Over the Hedge, 1 December 2009

Exam are fun...

... when you're the other end of the question. Not the writing end but the assessing end. While invigilating exams can be boring: watching 60 students write for 2 or 3 hours while you twiddle your thumbs and creatively imagine that they're writing sense and that judging by the furious rate of pen-to-teeth-tapping, the eye-rolling and the frantic hand-cramping scribbling that they all rose to the challenge.

The marking can be seen as labourious, spending precious weekend time getting through the ink-filled pages. I had such hope with this year's Functional Ecology exam. And up until the last 2 questions - grant it the longest and highest stakes - they were doing almost too well. Enough to be simultaneously suspicious and proud.

The dashing of those creative images can be very frustrating. Keeping conscious record of all the "What the heck!?" moments does serve a comic relief purpose. This years best of the 'Real answers to exam questions' is now on view. The names of the innocent have been excluded to protect their dignity.

P.S. The site is not exclusively mine; a bunch of teaching assistants and lecturers have been making light relief of student answers all year. Thanks Luke and Leia for this frustration-outlet!

No wonder

From Over the Hedge : 2nd Sept 2009


The jump rope I bought a few months ago is lying in a bunch under my bed. I'm starting to believe it's the nature of jump ropes to make knots, with or without you in it.

I found myself daydreaming...

Maybe it's the extra time I have on my hands now that my crazy teaching load has lifted. Maybe it's the thought of a few days out of the city. Maybe it's just spring time and thus time to contemplate the meaning of life love phds and the universe.

Same day-dream. Different day. And always about driving the same spot of highway out of Joburg. Wishful thinking?

When is father's day, not father's day.

Today, 9th June 2009, is a special kind of father's day for us.

Let me tell you something about our dad. He loved travelling around South Africa in our caravan. He loved travelling to wild places specifically. He loved, before our home suburb developed, cranking the volume on the 1812 overture on the record player and walking down to the spruit and just listening (much to the chagrin of our older siblings). He loved Woodland Kingfishers and Brown Snake Eagles. Once he retired he loved flannel shirts. And he had the biggest collection of boring corporate ties that I've ever seen. He loved my mom's quilting hobby and he loved taking these works of art as the requisite blanket on picnics or to lie on underneath the fig trees on the banks of the Sabie river.

Mom kept his ties and flannel shirts when we cleaned out his wardrobe after he died. She always knew she wanted to do something special with these items. She finished this work of art over the last few months.


It's a picnic blanket, so we don't have to use the bed quilts on damp, squidgy and weedy grass on all future picnics. It's made from his flannel shirts (the green flannel is extra) and bound in his ties. The quilt pattern is called "Snails trail" and this too has significance. Dad was house-bound on oxygen for the last few years of his life. From the oxygen concentrating machine he had a long "trail" of translucent pipe to his cannula... just like a trail left behind by a snail. That's how we'd track him down in the house if he wasn't in the bedroom. Mom called the quilt: "Ties that bind" - holding the quilt together.




You'll notice the dirt on the label. That's cos we broke the quilt in at our church's recent potjiekos competition.

Pretty artistic way of remembering Dad. Eleven years today that he's been out of our physical presence, but always with us. Even now when we go on picnics. Even more so when we hear the call of the Woodland Kingfisher: a loud trilling song, kri-trrrrrrr descending and fading.

Birds of a feather.

Do yourself a favour and read "A guide to the birds of East Africa"! Rarely has a book got me glued to the pages and stealing moments to read just one more chapter. It's a novel by the way. This frantic reading was spurred on by the fact that the book had to back in our bookclub collection by tomorrow morning. I only got the book from B on Sunday - I've never read a book in less than a week, but I was determined not to give it back half-read and wait my turn to read the rest of it.

Nicholas Drayson's language is full of innovative adjectives that add a very special sense of humour to the story. I even had to haul out the dictionary to look one of these up. What presents itself as a field guide is actually a bit of a love-story wrapped up in guy talk, walk, politics, wagering, escapades and twitching aplenty (bird watching). One reviewer (on the kalahari.net site) calls these 'fairly frivolous events'. They also said it was set in Nigeria *koff* umhmn that's not in EAST AFRICA! Maybe reading the title would help before you write a book review. This light-hearted narrative is set in Nairobi, Kenya.

In the haste to finish the story before the bookclub deadline, I took the book to the symphony last night, reading during the pre-concert talk, while the orchestra was tuning up, and the last few minutes of the interval, and even in one-chapter snatches at my desk today. One particularly humourous thread in the story nearly had me rolling in the isle at the Linder - a hysterically funny story about .... hadedahs.

Here's précis of the story to entice you further to read the book. Mr. Malik is an shy ordinary man, with a comb-over. He's a semi-retired and spends Tuesday mornings on a bird walk led by Rose Mbikwa with whom he is secretly in love. Harry Khan, a long-lost school bully of Malik's, turns up in town and meets Rose hoping to convince her to be wife #5. A love triangle develops and the boys set out to win Rose's company at the Kenyan event of the year - the Hunt Ball. The winner will be the one who sees the most number of bird species in one week. Frivolity ensues - African twitcher style. Do enjoy the read - it was far more manly and funny that I had imagined. I've very glad it'll be on my bookshelf again soon.

Percussion rocks!

The show is not over... well not for another 2 weeks, but last night's (Wednesday 27th May) display of technical mastery should be blogged about while I remember.

My Mom and I were graciously gifted season tickets to the 2009 Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra Second Symphony Season. I've always had an affinity for classical music and went through a stage of listening to nothing else. Then I went through a "it isn't cool for someone your age" phase and now I'm back to loving it and I remain unaffected by what people may think or say to that fact. Part of loving the experience of the weekly concerts is the visualisation of a style of communicating that is traditionally auditory. There is so much to see, hear, feel - real food for the senses.

Last night's theme was works from Russian composers.
BORODIN: Prince Igor: Overture
PROKOFIEV: Piano Concerto, no.3, op.26, C major with the soloist being Ayano Shimada who was trained in Japan and France with many laurels of competition wins and solo appearances around the world.
RIMSKY-KORSAKOV: Scheherazade, op.35
Conductor: Emil Tabakov

While the music was not really my taste, the performance was one of technical mastery from both soloist and the orchestra as a whole. The soloist appeared in a passion purple gown contrasting violently against the black and white formality of the orchestra members. And then with little adieu clicked and whirred in harmony with the brass and strings and percussion and woodwinds to create a cohesive flowing story. Her dexterous and impassioned skill was awe inspiring with hands blurring confidently over the keys. In her encore, of course we wanted an encore, her movements were lithe and flowing and purposeful and sensual, gently stroking the ivories into life in a distinct contrast of theme and style to the concerto.

The orchestra carried this momentum forward after interval into the Scheherazade - an emotive fantasy in 4 parts with literary inspiration from Tales of the Arabian Nights. In the first movement, the sea-sawing of the cellos to imitate "The Sea and Sinbad's ship" was even more evident with unfocussed (soft) eyes where the musicians deftly bowing the strings in contradictory to-&-fro motions, matching the pushing and pulling of the waves on the high seas. The theme of the Sultana sensual and exotic and fragrant and colourful [1] expertly portrayed by the first violinist and orchestra leader. The first cello, oboe, bassoon, clarinet and flute making regular expressive contributions to the symphonic work, with the harp contributing a sense of mystery and fantasy. And then in the forth movement the Festival of Baghdad, the sea and the shipwreck where all the emotions of the story unfurl in regimented tympanic glory!

I left there feeling the music. Not just seeing or hearing it this week - a wonderful sensory experience. I think I'll do it again sometime.

For the record Mom admits to being in a "Russian phase" and said that this week's concert was her best. And she wants to come back in her next life as a tympanist.

[1] Rimsky-Korsakov is reported to have been a synesthate where tonal keys had colour. Here is a comparative table between his perception of colour and key and that of another Russian composer Alexander Scriabin (Harrison, 2001:123). And here is an article about synesthesia.

It was a flippant throw away Friday tweet. And then it wasn't. I started thinking about how I am really blessed to think that everything is can be right with the world with just a cup of chai and a ginger biscuit. The feeling only lasted til the end of the ginger biscuit.

There are so many 'things' not right in the world: poverty, right in my home town; war and unrest, seemingly far from home but it's here and even more scary for me if it's underground; and the changing face of our planet ... well all these things make my heart sore. Making a difference where I can change that to soar.

In my perception of the world, as I saw it on Friday last week for a brief moment, it was all right in that world. Until I realised my world is part of the collective whole.

Kinda serious for a Terri-fic Tuesday. Reminds me to count my blessings everyday.

No more conversions!

Who knew first principles of conversion could desert you! I used to rag the 2nd year engineering students I helped tutor at UJ about forgetting about converting between units and orders of magnitude. Now it's my turn to blush. I had to convert a concentration of base cations (mg/l) into a mass-based concentration (cmol/kg). This was not a trivial exercise. About 100 Google searches on concentrations and conversions and numerous Aardvark queries later, I finally got the solution put together. The results look realistic compared with another years set of results and they are an interesting contrast to the base cation concentrations of soils determined by another method. This is a good thing!

On with presenting this data in a meaningful way. Oh first the stats...

You like me! You really really like me!

I don't suck! I'd like to thank the Academy for the award and thank you to all my adoring fans. You are the most awesome 3 people I know.

For the late bloomers this is kind of a blog-tag game. I was nominated for an awesome award. I find 7 reasons why I think I'm awesome and then I tag 7 more awesome people. So let's get down to the serious business.

The Chambers online dictionary defines awesome as: adj 1 causing awe; dreaded. 2 colloq completely and utterly wonderful. Let's continue with the second definition for now. In my humble opinion, "awesome" is an adjective that lives outside of me: scenery, works of art etc. I heard something lately about an increasingly "me" centred culture. So I'm doing this as a self-esteem building exercise as opposed to a 'centre of the universe' program. This seems a good place to start this list:

1. I believe I'm humble. This may stem from my dislike from being in the spot-light and how these types of commentaries make me feel like I'm writing my own obituary. The great news is that someone else will write my eulogy and they will get to say why they thought I was special. Today this task is mine. No Max (name changed to protect identity) this is not about self-esteem - it is part of my value system to be humble.

2. I know a heck of a lot of stuff, usually inane factoids. What I'm chuffed about is that I'm starting to make the links, sometimes obscure but links nonetheless, between some of these things I've learnt. I think this comes from my recent news junkie leaning (especially science news) and from tv doccies and from other life experiences. I love acquiring new knowledge. Sometimes I like applying it too.

(paused to ponder)

3. I like helping other people learn and get passionate about learning. Glancing over to the light switch there's a magnet that says: "To teach is to touch a life forever".

4. I expect good, no great, things from everyone. This includes students I teach, friends I make and all my family members. Sometimes because not everyone can achieve my exalted expectations, I'm left a little disappointed. My stuff not theirs. I still expect them to do their best and make their lives better.

5. I'm generally calm and collected. And I'm always on the look out for the positive. Positive intent or motivation, positive outcome, positive terminal (a little shock therapy never hurt anyone!).

6. I have a quick, if odd (see point 5), wit. Well, I make my sister laugh. She reckons I should have a comic strip.

7. I want to save the world. No small task. And entirely selfish. I'm not ready for a world predicted to have no Cape Town, no fynbos, wars over fresh water, searing heat and Armageddon-like storms. I believe each one of us can make a difference - even if we start the paradigm shift.

I'm proud of being dredging these seven traits that make me awesome for me. Even though I'm still feeling a bit camera shy about sharing them with the blogosphere. I've tagged 7 folks via email and will post links to their awesome acceptance speeches when I receive evidence.