Life as an Extreme Sport

lo, on the horizon – there travels a geek

Not as though the world really needs further proof of the fact that I’m a terrifically geeky person, but this afternoon I made a Nietzsche/Foucault/robot joke, which hinged on imitating a Dalek. (I can’t really explain it, because like most jokes, that would make it unfunny, but I basically called Foucault Nietzsche 2.0, and it went from there.)

So not only am I geek, but I absorb new pop culture (for those not in the know, I’ve only started watching Doctor Who and Torchwood in the last week or so) at an impossible rate in order to regurgitate it back out into areas of interest. I’m truly, truly pathetic.

…but the people in the room laughed, so hey.

small glimmers

A few hours later, and at least I got one (rather visible) thing working right. God, reminds me of my CRC days, except without Bennett to keep me company. And this is ever-so-much more fun with someone else around. Especially when there are random episodes of CSI or BSG playing in the background.

And now, oh, dilemma. Continue banging my head against this wall, or switch to the wall of epistemology. Either way, I end up with a headache.

(Lest anyone think that all I feel like doing is taking a break every few hours to swear and complain, rest assured, the swearing and complaining has been pretty much nonstop – I just opt to share every few hours. And a very large portion of the day was very good – the cohesive feeling of the graduate student group at school continues to exist, and yours truly just got herself crowned queen of a committee for an upcoming conference, as the combination of my work and past conference experience made me the ideal choice. It’s just that it’s back to the balance thing, and the start of the semester is a rough time to hold job talks and candidate interviews, since with my academic schedule this semester, it ends up wiping out an entire day.)

pulling teeth, eyes, yanking hair, etc

I swear to god, I’m not an idiot. But in-house, custom and zero documentation requires a level of telepathy I haven’t reached yet.

Plus I’m exhausted, as the neighbors folk decided to have a lovely row ’round 4am, and kept at it til either the cops or super or someone intervened – squinting eyes said that was ’round 5am. That, plus a long day of faculty interview/meeting/class/lunch/job talk/pertinent errands has left me a drained sack of mostly water that is apparently unable to think in anything resembling logic. Case and point: meant to buy myself a white board. Forgot til I was home.

All of which is to say, in other words: see last post. Rinse. Repeat.

a scene in frustration

My new mantra:
“That should have worked. Why didn’t that work? Why can’t I make this work?

…why does it hate me?”

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.
I need a white board, or a butcher paper covered wall. An 8×10 pad isn’t large enough to sketch all the code bits and toggles out so that I can actually visualize what’s going on, and see where to fix it. Not to mention it would be harder for Toledo to crumple a white board, or Lunar to decide to eat it. Damn dumb cat.

That should have worked. Why didn’t that work? Why can’t I make this work?

…why does it hate me?

hateses the first week of the semester, we do

Think of a child of a demanding parent. That child often grows into a perfectionist type who seeks out mates who are hard to please — and then tries to please them. Cast that way, does it sound familiar?

You would think it was counterintuitive — why would we seek out the thing that made us miserable in youth, instead of running the other way? — but it makes sense. People unwittingly seek out what is familiar to them emotionally; if your home was run by a bully, then being bullied by a mate will feel normal, like “home.”

Then, once people re-create their unhappy circumstances, they get down to the real business of dysfunction: staying mired there while they make a fruitless effort to get it “right” this time, to master whatever it is that left them feeling so helpless or out-of-control as a kid.

To break the cycle you have to see it; trace its roots; face, with brutal honesty, what you do to perpetuate it; and learn new habits. It can take one epiphany or years of therapy, but it can be done.
Carolyn Hax

The first week of a new academic term is always stressful and trying. The strange thing is, it’s not for any bad reasons – it’s just that you go from having a tonne of downtime to having no downtime in the span of 24 hours, and it’s a lot like shifting from neutral to 3rd gear, skipping stages in between.

When I was at UW, this wasn’t too hard of a thing, if only because on the quarter system, everything moves quickly and even your downtime is short – not really time to adjust to relaxed schedules. But the combination of a semester system, and having essentially not had courses in, depending on how you want to look at it, 6 or more months, has meant my ability to come anywhere near balance or adjusting to the shift in speeds is way, way off.

I could whine and say I’m still sick (I am) and it makes things harder, or having the rapid series of faculty interviews back to back at the beginning of the semester – the job talks, meals, meetings, readings, etc – is a time sink (albeit an important one to be involved in), or that even adjusting to set reading habits even when you’re not interested in the material is just hard. It’d all be true. But in reality, the issue is not the hard things, but the pleasant things – the sudden overabundance of being around people I like, brains I enjoy talking to, and the strange pleasure that comes from being woken up before 9am because a friend wanted to talk before class. It’s a hatred borne from a feast of excess.

In the first week or two of the semester, everything is about readjusting, finding balance. Figuring out your schedule – when do you have class, and then build from around that when everything else happens. Even if you’re amazing at dealing with that fast shift into overdrive, it’s hard to go from a relaxed, “I have 24 hours to fill at my inclination” attitude to one of strictly regimented schedule.

Oddly, my mild epiphany last night (prior to the drinking and socializing, thank you – so an actual epiphany, not an alcohol-induced one) was that I need to mimic a lot of what I did at UW here, because it really was successful for me. That means things as simple as keeping as spartan an apartment as possible, to establishing favourite spots to go to work and study – coffee shops and quiet bars, with and without wireless. And to live by a tightly controlled schedule that really is scheduled down to the minute, of when to sleep, when to eat, go to class, work, even play.

The only way to do this successfully is to do this with precision, and I have lost a lot of that sharp precision in these last few months. Whether that is okay or not is not at issue – that’s another topic for another time, and admitting that it’s been gone isn’t an admission of having done anything bad. It’s just acknowledging that things need to change, and they need to change now.

This post brought to you by distance, perception, Wellbutrin, introspection, the words “dark and twisty”, the letter B and the number 50. And the Carolyn Hax quote is related, but I’m not going to spell it out – at least not right now.