This, that and other things

I guess I'll bore you with two things today - some local news and some social etiquette.

Veronica started "guiding" again. She's a girl guide leader for the older ones but that's about all I know. In other news, I made pasta and bread for the first time in my life, and we're painting our apartment (items not related).

And now for the life lesson...
I'm sure that there many books that explain, in painstaking detail, the rights and wrongs of our social fabric. Books that explain simple things such as "Don't wear underwear on top of your shorts.", or "Socks are not meant for cleaning sinks.". But I doubt, seriously doubt, that a book exists about the conversational intricacies of socializing with a grad student. Grad students are, a poor, minority genus of the human species. On the time line, they fall just before Neanderthals. They are today's slaves; a little above the teenager in the social hierarchy. Their situation is no reason for improper social etiquette while you interact, or feed, them (usually one in the same). My guess is that people "just don't know" - they need to be educated. So...

Rule #1: Do not ask a grad student what they are researching.
Why? Well... The main reason is that they don't know. The grad student may not even know after they've published a paper at an academic conference. Typically, the only aspect that is certain in grad student's life is that they're procrastinating (this post). They are avoiding research for reasons of sanity.

But let us suppose that the grad student just happens to know what they're trying to do. In this rare situation, they must reduce their topic to a one minute academic belch that, if they have any common sense, you're going to understand. This results in one of two consequences:
A) The topic is glorified to such an extent that you feel the grad student posses the question and answer to the universe; you immediately begin to bury batteries and dump toxic chemicals directly into the sewers, because who gives a shit a this point.
B) The topic is reduced to such an extent that you feel like you've slept one thousand years in one minute; and you're thinking to yourself, "Shoot this grad student and put everyone out of their misery". You're probably right, but those thoughts are mean, so don't think them. (Those are the types of thoughts you can think about your in-laws, but not about grad students.)

So what do you do when you've painted yourself into an awkward conversational corner? Proper etiquette is to never ask what the grad student is researching, but to ask how much money they need and whether they take checks or credit card. You can also, although this is not regarded as highly, feed them.

Well...

This blog was originally by invitation only; unavailable to the general riffraff. But blogs that contribute to world peace just can't be kept a secret. You can now access our blog (our? I suppose at one point it was our blog) from doctoraldiva.blogspot.com. So, if you want to read something well written then take a look at doctoraldiva. Once you've read more than three words you don't understand, or once you've realized that you prefer my unique spelling and grammar, then just wander back here.

Hey people prefer crap that's why they buy stuff at Wal-Mart.

Change of email

Well folks, it looks like Memorial University of Newfoundland don't want me anymore. They're disabling my account. This means that my MUN email won't work after September 15th. For those of you still interested in free money, you can contact me at neilbam@gmail.com.

In other news, Hawaii is a four hour flight from Victoria. There's also an annual computer systems conference (http://www.hicss.hawaii.edu/). Interesting...

A Really Quick Post

I have a new job. And the reason this is a quick post is because I am at work right now.

I am working for Metis Community Services. I am doing geneology work, some cultural research and stuff, organizing stuff with kids, and some general reception work.

Keeps me busy, but keeps me so happy!!!

Other than that, nothing is new, I'll write soon about my in-the-trees escapades!

And now back to work! :)

Back to the grind

I realize that I haven't updated this blog in quite some time. If I had paying readers I might just make an effort. But I don't. You get what you pay for.

First the boring news and then stuff about me. Veronica started a new job at MCS (www.metis.ca). She luvs it, b'y. Since she left her old job at ARC on a Thursday, Friday was her first vacation in about a year. That's right, I said Friday. The powers of applied mathematics reveal a three day weekend, which we decided to spend at Quadra.

Saturday we went salmon fishing. (We interrupt this story to remind everyone that Nick did NOT catch salmon during his fishing expeditions while vacationing on Quadra.) Salmon fishing on Quadra involves a downrigger. This device is similar to a fishing rod but much more compact. The downrigger's fishing line is actually super-strength wire from which you attach a heavy weight. Buttons on the downrigger allow its wire-line to descend to a specific depth. Once the fishing line is attached to the downrigger, the downrigger brings the fishing line, lure and hook to the salmon.

We set our first line with a Pink Hootchie - a small bright-pink rubber squid. (Fish do not like Pink Hootchies.) We started setting our second line using a small "camo" rubber squid (the preferred lure of most salmon). Veronica picked up the downrigger's weight, almost falling out of the boat in the process, and handed it to Doug (my uncle). He promptly clipped it onto the downrigger's line and we watched it sway, like a wrecking ball, dangerously close to the boat. Doug pressed down to gain several feet of wire-line onto which he would attach the fishing line. The downrigger read 1 foot, 2 feet, 5 feet, 10 feet. Stop. Up. Off. Off. Whir, the downrigger's weight continued to descend. Up. Off. Auto-Up. Off. Panic! Plunk, the downrigger's weight hit the bottom. Shit!

As the boat moved forward with the tidal currents, the downrigger continued to release wire-line. 40 feet. 50 feet. 60 feet. 70 feet. Fuck! Doug dropped to his knees, ripped off a boat panel and unplugged the downrigger; one dead down rigger. Now what? It was time to use the manual up - my hands. Twenty minutes later the weight could be seen through the depths. Once the downrigger's weight was on board, we realized that one of the downrigger's knobs needed to be tightened. Doug's response after my intense manual labour and our discovery that a downrigger knob required adjustment, "I should have checked that."

By the end of the day, one had "gotten away", one six pound salmon was caught and one really ugly rock-cod was released back to the ocean to be with other really ugly rock-cod. And to recap, I caught two more fish than my brother (not that we're competitive, we're just brothers).

In other news, I've officially registered at UVic and I'm starting my PhD this September. This implies that Veronica can call me Master (thanks Stu, for this one).