Meh

I sent my thesis out to my supervisor a little over an hour ago. And I'm not too sure how I feel now. I've been sort of looking around for things to do. Of the 1001 plans made during write up for the sweet days of freedom to come, I can't remember any. It's almost as if my body is still in stress mode, subconciously telling me: "must sit at desk, must type, must reference, must finish". But there's nothing more to do but wait for feedback.

It's ironic how one can find millions of reasons for procrastination when under pressure, yet when pressure evaporates suddenly you're stuck for things to occupy yourself with.

Maybe I should go learn a language or something. Enroll in a new degree. Or something.

I'm sure this vaccuum will soon be replaced by sheer elation. When that moment hits, some of you should make sure to be ready to be dragged out for a giant bender. I could do with a pint. Or six.

Combadge

It's a well-know fact that I've been wanting someone to buy me a Star Trek uniform and Combadge for ages. Buying it for myself would simply be too blatant an admittance of my geek-ness. And we can't have that, now can we?

But just this morning, a neat little package arrived via UK-postal pigeon, courtesy of Ms.PutmyBlog with... A STAR TREK COMBADGE!!

It makes the sounds 'n everyfink!! *wide childishly-excited grin*

How chuffed am I?!?


I'm due to hand in my PhD-thesis tomorrow afternoon, but I think I'm just gonna have to go parade my new li'l gadget around. Imagine how many new friends I'll make?!? ;p


Thanks Ann! It is VERY much appreciated!!

Plumber

Oh I couldn't make this up if I tried *wry smile*.

To fend off the impending headache and frustration at having the carpenter round all day (read Carpenter PartI & II), I decided to draw myself a nice hot bath. I'd literally *just* entirely immersed myself in it, when, yes you guessed it, the doorbell rang again.

Realising that resistance is futile, I hauled myself out off the bathtub and stuck my head through the window. "Hullo? Erm, Sir? I'm actually taking a bath right now!"

But it was a different voice alltogether that called back up: "Ma'am? It's the plumber. I'm here to fix the taps of your bath?"

Oh I shit you not.

Tis why I've decided to remain unwashed today, to not go near the loo, to leave all my doors wideopen and to generally give up on the illusion that anything will go right or that I'll get any work done on my thesis before plumbers and carpenters alike have satisfied their darkest needs for inconveniencing.

Carpenter - Part II

The carpenter arrived early this morning. A whole hour early to be exact. To avoid the impending headache, despite his earliness, I made sure to get out of bed upon his first 30 second-long ring of the doorbell.

Attempting to greet him somewhat less rudely than I did yesterday, I forced a smile on my face. Smile was short-lived, however. Toothie grin and electrical drill at hand, the guy greets me with:

"Ma'am, does the electricity socket in your garden work?"
"Yes, Sir. It does."
"OK. I'll try it to see if it works then, shall I?"

Realising the scale of illogic at hand here, I try to beat him to the next doorbell war and suggest: "Look, Sir, I'm sure it works. But should it not, I will leave this door ajar and you can just use the electrical socket down here, OK?"

To which HE replies: "Oh no hun, don't worry about it, I'll simply shut the door and will just ring the bell if I need you."

I'm seriously starting to wonder whether there is such an afflication as Doorbell Obsession.

Carpenter - Part I

Some people have a really strange sense of logic.

I'd been working into the wee hours last night so was in dire need of a good lie-in. Unfortunately I was rudely awoken by the doorbell at 9am. Feeling rather grumpy, I just turned over and covered my head under the pillow in an attempt to ignore it. Yet, the doorbell rings a second time. Not for the customary polite 2 seconds. No no. A whole fucking minute!!!

Even less inclined to open the door, I grab my earplugs (yes, I always have those handy) and dive back under the duvet. For a blissful ten minutes all's silent and there's me happily snuggled up thinking: "Yay!!! I won!!!"

Unforunately, some people don't let up. So a half an hour of unrelenting ringing later, I finally conceat defeat and in a total strop, go down to open the door.

It was the local carpenter asking if it'd be ok if he'd come around tomorrow to fix a few things around the house. Still in a total grump, I shrug my shoulders and say: "Sure, whatever." To which HE says: "Perfect! I just wanted to pass by to let you know I'll ring u this afternoon to arrange to meet tomorrow."

AAaaaaargh!!!

Crippled Freedom of Speech

I've been meaning to write a blogpost about the events happening around the globe these past few weeks. Not only relating to the cartoon-riots, but also to the recent incarceration under Austrian law, of historian David Irving for denial of the Holocaust. I have serious issues with any form of curtailment of freedom of speech and with the inherent paradoxality of the concept at hand.

Due to lack of time, however, I will simply have to leave you with this: a most poignant depiction of the current events. Although several equally poignant cartoons have been published of late with respect to the cartoon riots, I feel their reference to the muslim community as a whole is a generalisation. Generalisations are the downfall of society, in my own personal opinion. Although I feel everyone should have the right to publish their own views, I personally think they injustly tar all muslims with the same brush and only adds to an already steadily growing divide between communities. That is why I opted for a cartoon which threads a common link between us all, regardless of our background, in what has been happening these last few weeks:

Muffling

It's been snowing for the past three hours solid now. A good two inches of it so far. I love how snowfall muffles sounds. It's never as quiet anywhere as when it's snowing. U can feel the silence almost press on your eardrums.

I supose it's part of why I like skiing...the howling of the wind in your ears when you're swooshing down a slope and then the sudden, pressing, total silence when you halt midway a deserted snowy flank. Like a cocoon almost. Never seizes to impress me.

Hope the snow keeps up.

So True

ADVISORY WARNING!! Parents to PhD-ing children may chose not to read the following blog.

A research group at Darthmouth University has established that the brain does not reach full maturity until the age of about 26. They were able to demonstrate that between the ages of 18 and the mid-twenties, the brain still undergoes some substantial changes in the regions responsible for the integration of emotion and cognition. The experiences you live through in those formative years, such as failed first relationships, time away at university, being broke, earning your first paycheque etc... play crucial roles in shaping your brain into its mature form.

So technically, dear mum&dad, the past few years of Sarah-wobblers were fully justified. They were not indicative of failed parenting skills on your behalf. Nor were they signs you've given birth to an emotionally challenged child. I was officially just being a regular wobbly twenty-something on her steep emotional learning curve.

*awkward cough* Question though... *nervously scrapes chin*

IF one's experiences in the early twenties actually shape and prep the brain for "maturity" by the age of 26... what is to become of the PhD-ing individual? Those of us who don't actually make it into the big wide world before maturity is reached? Shall we just start accepting the fact that I have missed the maturity deadline and will forever be stuck on Hollyoaks Sundays, hooded sweaters, twenty daily leisurely breaks on campus and overall very wobbly student-esque behavior??


- click on image for enlarged version -

PS: I do actually have more worthy blogstuff, but VERY little time to faff about, what with being a student and all so erm... bare with me. Proper blogging to be continued. Someday soon. Maybe when I finally graduate. Or not, if Darthmouth is right.

Proud of my day

Acceptance is the First Step

I make the world's worst coffee.

Dumbing Down

I've been a reasonably happy Barclays Bank customer these past 4.5 years, but today's press statement about their planned "re-vamp" really does my head in.

"Barclays bans jargon in makeover"
"In an attempt to make the banking system more "consumer-friendly", Barclays has decided to make do with simple words in-lieu of the standard banking jargon which often seems to confuse people."

So, here's me thinking: Fab!

Anyone who's attempted to find themselves a mortgage deal, a good investment plan or even some plain info on a simple ISA account will agree with me on the fact that the banking world has become a highly confusing minefield of hidden catches, ridiculously complicated agreements and a variety of options too big to get a decent grasp on. So any level of simplification would be much welcomed. But then I made the grave mistake of actually reading on. It turns out these clever consumer-friendly changes consist of the following:

(1) Renaming ATM machines: "Hole in the Wall":
A three-letter-acronym is clearly too hard for us simple folk to remember, according to Barclays. Now, I actually like the concept "Hole in the Wall", but spare us the patronising official explanations, and just admit it's clever "hip" marketing strategies rather than our best interest which preceded this line of thinking.


(2) Changing the signs above the service desks:
From now on "Bureau de Change" will be relabelled: "Travel Money". And "Customer Service" will be renamed: "Can I Help?". Once again... just how dumb does Barclays think we are?

(3) No more pens on a chain:
This was about the 1 idea I've always considered clever: chain pens to desks so no one takes them home. Barclays considers this tying up business a sign of distrust in the customer, so from now on: no more chained pens. Brilliant idea guys, really. The only problem now's that there will NEVER be any pens around to sign those receipts. So hurray to doubling the amount of faffing & lengthening the queues. Definitely on to a winner there!

I find this painful. Ridiculously so. Not only are we being labelled morons, they actually seem to think that we can be fooled into believing that renaming the service desks & trusting us with their precious pens makes the banking system more transparent.

How about assigning the money that will be spend on this "re-vamp" idea, on an new concept ISA account with a savings interest that covers more than merely the inflation??

Anglo-Germanic Conspiracy

We're being had.

For the past two weeks, winds from the German industrial Ruhr area have been carrying polluted air into Belgium. Due to the cold weather and the associated temperature inversions, the polluted air is sticking around for a lot longer than it's suposed to. On top of that, the Brits are sending us an opposing weatherfront which doesn't allow the air above belgium to be diffused.

So we're screwed. Basically.

The Flemish Environment Agency has been sending out warnings about the worrying state of the airquality for several days now, and it advises people not to exercise in these conditions. I laughed it off at first, because you know what these types of warnings are generally like. But since yesterday I think I'm actually starting to notice the effects. My heart is definitely working a lot harder than it normally does, despite the fact that I remain practically stationary all day and the only things I ever seem to lift these days are the two index fingers with which I'm attempting to type. I've developed a nasty cough, and I've had several nosebleeds for three days in a row now. Granted, I am a hypochondriac, but the bloody snotrags are quite unimaginary.

I suggest we collectively start flapping our arms and jackets to try and whisk this polluted air off somewhere else. Towards the French, for instance. The Brits and Germans should pick on someone their own size in this battle for fresh air, methinks.

Should all else fail, I will board a plane in a week or two and head for the Isles to bottle some fresh air. I'm taking orders at a eurocent/litre.