A woman of a certain age

Among other happenings this year, I turned 30. I made sure to completely overload my schedule so that I wouldn't have the time or emotional energy to freak out about it. My PhD defense was the day after, I had a play the night of, and my final draft of my written dissertation was due that next Monday. However, in the not so busy moments that have followed turning 30, I've begun to realize I am doing things that women of a certain begin to do. For instance, to satiate the loneliness, and potentially the baby lust, I got a dog, or more appropriately, my parents got me a dog.

I frequently get these looks of reproach

 She's totally hilarious and with a ton of personality, but I don't think she quite has the effect my mother was hoping for when she sent my dad on an 800 mile errand to pick up the dog. She is not a guy magnent. Rather, she attracts small children and old ladies, which is not entirely bad, but doesn't do much for my dating life. 

She is constantly laughing at my silly human ways

It's also been interesting to see where my friends stand on the whole dog versus cat issue. One friend who I thought would be exclusively dog, is pretty luke warm to her. Another who I thought would be all cat, totally loves her. She is a bit feline-like.

Otherwise, it's nice to have a buddy for Zissou and she generally is very well behaved and has only destroyed non-essential items (so far) in her evenings of destruction.

What has been perhaps the most interesting experience of dog-ownership is the dog-park dynamic. Now, maybe you all knew this, but dog park people are a very strange, but very tight clique. Autumn immediately ingratiated herself because she's gorgeous. But I'm a bit awkward and apprehensive about the whole thing. I hate it when the 90lb lab humps her, and I'm not a fan of the pit mix that runs her down and bights her face. She's just a baby! And I almost went apeshit when someone said guinea pigs were stupid pets. Zissou is awesome and anyone who says otherwise is a gerbil lover.

So, hopefully I can stave off the weird middle-agedness for a few more decades. But in the meanwhile, the collie and the guinea pig are keeping my PhD company.

He may look like a dust bunny, but he's adorable!

Why depression can actually make you more outgoing

In keeping with the theme of carpe diem, I've been saying yes to things I never would have before. For instance, I visited an iris farm with my advisor's wife.  Although not something I would have said yes to in the past, I had a great time. The sky was beautiful. The irises were in fine form and I got a great dinner and time with my dog out of it. And so I made a deal with myself that I would start to say yes more than no. Because of this new philosophy, I just got invited to a Russian hot-pot party on Saturday. I have no idea what this will entail, but I'm up for it because the alternative is sitting at home with the dog, drinking cheap wine, playing tug-o-war and watching some awful movie.

Irises against the rolling Palouse hills

Really, anything is better than sitting at home and having that dog stare at me wondering how she ended up with such a sad sack. Other things I've said yes to lately: 

Glacier Vacation

Hawaii Collecting trip

Dog sitting

Designing a humorous post-doc blog

Giving blood

Climbing a mountain

Preparing songs for an open mic night

Mountain biking

Warrior Race

Flowers and clouds on a lovely summer evening

And that's all I can remember right now.
Spasibo.

Carpe diem dammit

Today my heart breaks for my dear friend, Laura. I met Laura in 2004 when we were both education rangers in the Everglades. Laura has a contagious laugh and an uncanny capability to make me smile when I totally feel like shit. Every night, I could hear laughter emitting from Laura's room as she spoke to her boyfriend, Will, another ranger. The awful thing about Park Service romance is that you so rarely are in the same place at the same time all the time. Will was still in Yellowstone while Laura was fightin' gators, but it was completely obvious that they were totally in love. Fast forward and Will and Laura tie the knot in a small, but gorgeous ceremony in Hawaii (with their adorable beagle, Hobart as a witness). I only saw pictures, but love exuded from them. And like truly good people, they took their vows completely to heart. Will was diagnosed with cancer, to which our response was, WTF? Cancer? Who gets cancer at 30? Ok, let's do this. And they did. Chemo, surgery, flights to Huston, missed vacations and work. I've never seen two people so committed to one another. And yet, the cancer prevailed. Despite the faith and commitment and love to one another, Will passed-on yesterday. The death of someone so young is heartbreaking. The pain caused to his wife and best friend is heartbreaking. The only saving grace is that Will did exactly what he wanted to do. He lived the life he wanted to live, married the girl he loved, and fought hard to do it all. This should be a lesson for all of us. Life really is too short to leave things unsaid or undone. To suffer through work or life is doing a disservice to yourself and to anyone who didn't have the opportunity to live theirs. So, in honor of Will, I will seize this day and those that come after it. 

Community responsibility of science

I've been struggling with the idea that in order to justify a career in the sciences, I need to do something that helps the broader community. This generally means doing something applied like work in invasive species, but can also apply to empirical work that promotes conservation of areas in order to study rare species or phenomena. That being said though, why do we have to do something for the world? Why can't we write our check to the Union of Concerned Scientists and call it good?
I think the time has come to admit that not all science has to be directly applicable and that not all discoveries have to mean something life changing for the human race. New species, new understandings of processes in biology, chemistry, and physics stretch the boundaries of human understanding of the world and universe in which we live. Unfortunately many projects, even though they are scientifically interesting, because they don't have implications for human health, environmental health, or species conservation, don't get funded. I only point this out because if there is bias anywhere in the sciences, it is in what gets funded and therefore what gets published and disseminated and reproduced.
Just food for thought.

Since when did elite become a four letter word?

Not to borrow a note from Sam Harris' page, but I'm beginning to have serious doubts about the simple reasoning capabilities of the average American. Perennially, I fail to see why we would want to elect someone otherwise unqualified for the job based upon the fact that I think I could sit down and have a beer with him or her. In the case of the president, this is the person who holds the launch codes for the largest nuclear arsenal on the planet and I want to be able to have a beer with him? No. I want the leader of the largest super power in the world to be educated, at least as much as me, experienced and worldly. After all, nationalism is not the only issue that a president deals with on a daily basis. I also want a president who can think on his or her feet - who doesn't need a cue card to remember relevant facts and situations. And, I also don't want a president or vice-president who believes that this is the "end of days" and that she's fighting the fight of the "last generation". Perhaps that's too inferential, but having attended Assembly of God services three times in Alaska (once in Wasilla), I can tell you for certain, these people aren't operating on the same level as you and I. Foregoing the evolution debate (she's a strict creationist which makes me shudder, can you not reason with these people?!), the parishioners of the Assembly of God churches believe in a micromanaging God. A god that tells them what to eat, when to sleep and ultimately how to deal with every minutia and issue in their lives. The Pope may be leader of a country and also have the ear of God, but while I respect her right to exercise whatever religion she would like, we're fighting a war on fundamentalism and I don't think we should fight it with more fundamentalism. Much like her leader, Palin cannot tell you the ideological differences between Suni and Shiite Muslims, nor how mainstream Islam is different from radical Islamists in their interpretation. Her small-town leadership has not prepared her for a whole-world paradigm and I'm simply not comfortable giving her the spare key to the whitehouse, even if she isn't an "educated white male" or "east-coast liberal".

Spring time in the Palouse

As the days begin to lengthen and the sun sheds more light on more of the day, you begin to notice things changing around you. I've been making the walk from home to school since the early days of January. In the midst of winter, I would walk to school in the dark, and make the trek home at dark as well, passing a bridge, a park, and many quiet abodes on my way back to mine. Recently, though, this commute has become somewhat of an experiential sojourn. I leave the office, usually around 5, at least that's what I aim for, and I exit into an often sunny evening. Students are bustling about with their ipods in ears, wearing the latest spring fashions (even though it's still only about 50 degrees F outside). It's funny, but they sort of form a homogeneous mass, making them easily discernible from other members of the campus (e.g. grad students, faculty and staff). I descend a massive hill (note: this hill must be ascended every morning as well) noting the newly blooming daffodils and other spring ephemerals. I also notice that the brown hill is slowly becoming green as dormancy gives way to the great growth that must start and end before the fall. I walk past the park and enjoy the rowdiness of pee-wee t-ball and soccer being played on the newly green fields. What a freedom it must be to run and chase and fall with such abandonment. Then I turn the corner and begin to mount the second of my hills.
Recently, I have been watching an old man who is out tending to his flower beds every evening as I pass by. His back is curved from years of spinal degeneration, and his home and other buildings bear the signs of neglect. Yet, here he is, pulling weeds, raking dead humus away to reveal a carefully planned and beautifully executed series of flower beds. Purple lilies, a variety of tulips and daffodils, and snow drops emerge from their once frigid dorms in this dark earth. I don't know if he notices my observations (I'm staring at him, taking in his every move), but I find some serenity in his actions. He his methodical and calculating in his efforts to cultivate beauty.
In some way, this is what spring time is: A methodical process of bringing the world out of our wintry hibernation and into a season of tempestuous unpredictability.
I look forward to warmer days and less time at the desk. Ciao.

Hooray for snow!

I realize that after the last entry that perhaps I may have sounded a bit dire (it prompted e-mails and phone calls from my parents to make sure I was alright - thanks Mom and Dad), but things are looking up. Still no money for sure, but I at least have an idea of what research I can do this summer and that's the first major hurdle to get over. But, I won't bore you with the mundane details of grad student life - just know that I have been getting away from time to time to hit the slopes and shred it on the mountain. With the exception of last weekend, the snow here has been phenomenal and I'm having a great time honing my snowboarding skills. I still try to shirk the 'snowboarder' image as much as possible (aka listless jerk who flies down the mountain out of control without regards for others), but I'm starting to look a little too good to not be considered bonafide (I hope people can sense the sarcasm there). Here's a picture of my roommate Brian and I on the chairlift on a day when the temp didn't get about 10F. It's really the embodiment of happiness - hooray for snow!

Crawling towards an indeterminant end

Ugh....brain is mush, body is tired and out of shape, and wardrobe needs some serious emergency care. Why you ask has this transformation occured? Well, it's a little something we like to call graduate school.
Take your best day. The day when you really know what you're doing. When your friends and coworkers enjoy you and tell you you're cool, and smart and funny. Do you remember days like that? I do too, and they don't happen in graduate school. You've left those great days behind for late night paper writing sessions and uncomfortable moments when you have to let your advisor know that you didn't get around to doing 1 of the 150 things he mentioned in passing. How were you to know that was the important item? In addition to being treated like a serf, you live in virtual poverty. I've never considered beans so important. And rice has a whole new meaning. The luxuries in life, chocolate and ice cream for instance, are replaced by a night of mind-numbing tv watching. The glowing screen is sooooo pretty....ah.....
Why would one put themself through this veritable cabre of unpleasantness? Because society tells us we need a Ph.D. to be really successful. Nevermind being good at the job you're doing now, or liking the lifestyle you currently lead. There are always bigger and better things that await the blossoming doctoral candidate. It's complete bullshit, but it's there.
I'm going to end this with saying and attitude change is in order. Not mine of course, but the system. And as always - Damn the man.
Cheers.