Okay, Josh, here you go.
When I sign out of chat and see the 20 people I most frequently contact, 13 of them are women. And going into my list of Gmail contacts, just under 50% are female.
Based on this information, I stand by my assumption that the previous list of online contacts is not random.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Phenomenon?
Names of people in my Gmail chat list who are currently online:
Alan
Ben
Cim
Cory
Matthew
Andres
Stephen
Blair
Jared
Jenny
McKay
Nathanial
Stu
This is a standard sample, too. Do men just spend more time online than women, or do I have a unique set of friends?
Alan
Ben
Cim
Cory
Matthew
Andres
Stephen
Blair
Jared
Jenny
McKay
Nathanial
Stu
This is a standard sample, too. Do men just spend more time online than women, or do I have a unique set of friends?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
More petty matters
As my faithful readers may or may not remember, I have a dear old cat who goes by the name of Hazle and is essentially eighteen years old. As his limbs have gotten less springy and more rheumatic and his balance has slowly diminished and his senses have dimmed, I've wondered just how much longer he's going to last.
Well, the cat with a charmed life (or nine charmed lives) seems to have finally hit the end of his leash. Bless his little heart, he stepped in front of a car moving into a garage yesterday evening and got his femur snapped. Because he's so very old and already in dubious health, we will be taking him in to be euthanized on Friday.
I guess I've known for a long time that this moment would have to come sooner or later. When I was in elementary school, I would try to mentally prepare myself sometimes for the death of the cat. Which is a little silly. I love animals in general, but I'm not a crazy animal person. It's more that I just get so incredibly attached to things and to people and to animals- and once I'm attached, I become fiercely loyal.
Thus it is with my cat. He's patiently survived three babies and only scratched them when severely provoked. And honestly, if someone were poking me in the eyes, I would probably lash out at them, too. He was my therapist when I was a moody teenager and my moral support when recovering from surgery and during those long, hard afternoons with chronic fatigue syndrome. For someone like that, how can you not be attached and loyal?
Tonight is my vigil. Tomorrow evening I need to back in Salt Lake, so tonight is my extended farewell to a good, good friend. Rest easy, little friend.
Well, the cat with a charmed life (or nine charmed lives) seems to have finally hit the end of his leash. Bless his little heart, he stepped in front of a car moving into a garage yesterday evening and got his femur snapped. Because he's so very old and already in dubious health, we will be taking him in to be euthanized on Friday.
I guess I've known for a long time that this moment would have to come sooner or later. When I was in elementary school, I would try to mentally prepare myself sometimes for the death of the cat. Which is a little silly. I love animals in general, but I'm not a crazy animal person. It's more that I just get so incredibly attached to things and to people and to animals- and once I'm attached, I become fiercely loyal.
Thus it is with my cat. He's patiently survived three babies and only scratched them when severely provoked. And honestly, if someone were poking me in the eyes, I would probably lash out at them, too. He was my therapist when I was a moody teenager and my moral support when recovering from surgery and during those long, hard afternoons with chronic fatigue syndrome. For someone like that, how can you not be attached and loyal?
Tonight is my vigil. Tomorrow evening I need to back in Salt Lake, so tonight is my extended farewell to a good, good friend. Rest easy, little friend.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Trippin' to the coast
Kids, I'm lonely tonight. Just enough to make me feel contemplative and reflective and such. It's not a huge deal and it will pass quickly, I'm sure, as soon as I rejoin normal civilization. As much as I like my traveling companions, they are not exactly the people I would turn to if I were looking for deep, filling conversation or friendly solace.
I went to dinner last night with twelve men. Sounds great, huh? Of course, they were all either married, engaged or otherwise attached, or not my type. But they are all people I enjoy spending time with, especially in a group. If one of them starts getting on my nerves, I just let the natural flow of conversation take a turn so I'm no longer speaking to the offending gentleman. And while we have plenty to talk about and laugh about, and intellectually stimulating conversation may be plentiful, like I said, the deep filling conversation that I'm so hungry for right now is like a gaping hole in my middle.
I'm in San Diego with a group from BYU at a genetics conference (don't ask me why they decided to send me to the conference after I'd already graduated. I have no idea). There are fourteen of us- twelve men, and me and Amalia, our Bolivian grad student. Those twelve men divide down into four professors, Dr. M's dad, five grad students, and two undergrads. They're all really fun to talk to, tease, roll my eyes at, etc. I've known and worked with many of them for a few years. And I'm completely comfortable with them. Because I'm one of the guys.
It's a trick you have to learn how to do to a certain extent in a male-dominant field. But I really wish there was another woman here tonight whose native language was English that I could share some friendship with. There's something about Sunday nights anyway that make me hungry for friendship. I think the solitude is making it worse. Well, tomorrow will find me attending workshops on all kinds of fascinating things, as well as going to my poster session (read: glorified science fair) to stand by my cool poster in case anyone wants to know about the evolutionary history of Chenopodium species, and cracking jokes with my male counterparts and generally enjoying myself.
I went to dinner last night with twelve men. Sounds great, huh? Of course, they were all either married, engaged or otherwise attached, or not my type. But they are all people I enjoy spending time with, especially in a group. If one of them starts getting on my nerves, I just let the natural flow of conversation take a turn so I'm no longer speaking to the offending gentleman. And while we have plenty to talk about and laugh about, and intellectually stimulating conversation may be plentiful, like I said, the deep filling conversation that I'm so hungry for right now is like a gaping hole in my middle.
I'm in San Diego with a group from BYU at a genetics conference (don't ask me why they decided to send me to the conference after I'd already graduated. I have no idea). There are fourteen of us- twelve men, and me and Amalia, our Bolivian grad student. Those twelve men divide down into four professors, Dr. M's dad, five grad students, and two undergrads. They're all really fun to talk to, tease, roll my eyes at, etc. I've known and worked with many of them for a few years. And I'm completely comfortable with them. Because I'm one of the guys.
It's a trick you have to learn how to do to a certain extent in a male-dominant field. But I really wish there was another woman here tonight whose native language was English that I could share some friendship with. There's something about Sunday nights anyway that make me hungry for friendship. I think the solitude is making it worse. Well, tomorrow will find me attending workshops on all kinds of fascinating things, as well as going to my poster session (read: glorified science fair) to stand by my cool poster in case anyone wants to know about the evolutionary history of Chenopodium species, and cracking jokes with my male counterparts and generally enjoying myself.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Kenya vignette: November 13- laundry and showing off the mzungus
Today was pretty unusual. To start, all my clothes were dirty besides my two skirts and the white t-shirt I brought, unwitting of the amount of mud there is in Gathiga. I haven’t worn it yet because I was sure it wouldn’t last at the orphanage for very long. Today was white shirt and skirt day because I washed all my other clothes this morning. Ruth and Grace helped me. I was actually glad they let me help at all, sometimes they think we’re more of a hindrance than a help. But I’m really, really impressed by how clean it’s possible to get a pair of pants or a pair of really, really dirty, red-mud-laden socks, scrubbing them with lots of soap and lot of cold water.
The only problem I personally had with laundry was that all the rubbing made my knuckles raw with friction. Ouch!
After laundry, Ruth decided to take us to her village, where she and Lucy grew up. We think it was partly to show off her white friends and partly because she wanted Cynthia to marry her nephew, who lives in the village. She took Cynthia, Eunice, Moses, and I, and we took two matatus through Nairobi and out the other side to get there, as well as a 2-kilometer walk. It was over a 2 hour trip one way. It was such a random trip. We got there and sat in the living room while Ruth and her mother made lunch. Riding on matatus for so long made me pretty tired.
A young man came wandering in and we figured out that he was the guy that Ruth wants to “set up” with Cynthia. He didn’t talk very much, I don’t think the romance will go far.
After lunch, Ruth took us on a little walk to the family garden plot. I really liked the region she grew up in. One thing I dislike about Gathiga is the way the streets are all lined with hedges so I can’t see very far away and it almost feels a little claustrophobic. Ruth’s village is green, green fields and wide open skies. It was gorgeous, like a breath of fresh air. Beautiful. She also showed us a mango tree.
The guy from the house came with us, as well as a little boy, about six years old, I think. At first, at the house, he would barely look at us, although we smiled and waved. Then he randomly decided to show up when we walked to the garden. Then I realized that he was always standing next to me and he was returning my smiles. He didn’t speak any English, but we played some silly little games with running and skipping and making faces.
Ruth picked a viburnum flower and gave t to me. I loved it—it was very bright and much more colorful than viburnum in Utah. The boy noticed this and picked another flower and looked like he wasn’t sure how to give it to me.
We went back inside and the others had tea. The boy brought in a flower and put it on the couch beside me to indicate that he wanted me to have it. I thanked him and smiled and he beamed at me. I put it in my journal to press it. The boy went running off and was back a little while later with a while bouquet of nicotiana-like flowers but that smelled divinely like honeysuckle. I thanked him again and this happened about three more times before we left. Cynthia was laughing that he was going to bring me the whole garden if we didn’t leave soon. Fortunately, we did. As it was, we got back to Gathiga after dark, anyway.
The only problem I personally had with laundry was that all the rubbing made my knuckles raw with friction. Ouch!
After laundry, Ruth decided to take us to her village, where she and Lucy grew up. We think it was partly to show off her white friends and partly because she wanted Cynthia to marry her nephew, who lives in the village. She took Cynthia, Eunice, Moses, and I, and we took two matatus through Nairobi and out the other side to get there, as well as a 2-kilometer walk. It was over a 2 hour trip one way. It was such a random trip. We got there and sat in the living room while Ruth and her mother made lunch. Riding on matatus for so long made me pretty tired.
A young man came wandering in and we figured out that he was the guy that Ruth wants to “set up” with Cynthia. He didn’t talk very much, I don’t think the romance will go far.
After lunch, Ruth took us on a little walk to the family garden plot. I really liked the region she grew up in. One thing I dislike about Gathiga is the way the streets are all lined with hedges so I can’t see very far away and it almost feels a little claustrophobic. Ruth’s village is green, green fields and wide open skies. It was gorgeous, like a breath of fresh air. Beautiful. She also showed us a mango tree.
The guy from the house came with us, as well as a little boy, about six years old, I think. At first, at the house, he would barely look at us, although we smiled and waved. Then he randomly decided to show up when we walked to the garden. Then I realized that he was always standing next to me and he was returning my smiles. He didn’t speak any English, but we played some silly little games with running and skipping and making faces.
Ruth picked a viburnum flower and gave t to me. I loved it—it was very bright and much more colorful than viburnum in Utah. The boy noticed this and picked another flower and looked like he wasn’t sure how to give it to me.
We went back inside and the others had tea. The boy brought in a flower and put it on the couch beside me to indicate that he wanted me to have it. I thanked him and smiled and he beamed at me. I put it in my journal to press it. The boy went running off and was back a little while later with a while bouquet of nicotiana-like flowers but that smelled divinely like honeysuckle. I thanked him again and this happened about three more times before we left. Cynthia was laughing that he was going to bring me the whole garden if we didn’t leave soon. Fortunately, we did. As it was, we got back to Gathiga after dark, anyway.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
I just don't get it
As I've previously confessed, extreme misuse of punctuation, abuse of grammar, and blatant misspelling of words often makes me roll my eyes and laugh behind my hand. I'm a terrible person.
However, sometimes it also makes me furrow my brow. I give you exhibit A and exhibit B.
I just don't even know what to say. The first one isn't too bizarre except that the sign makes no sense (out of context at least), but the second one?
Excuse me while I go decorate my clock with a border of question marks.
However, sometimes it also makes me furrow my brow. I give you exhibit A and exhibit B.
I just don't even know what to say. The first one isn't too bizarre except that the sign makes no sense (out of context at least), but the second one?
Excuse me while I go decorate my clock with a border of question marks.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Salt Lake County Continuing Education
Class: Ghostbusters
description: Want to get spooked? Looking for evidence or information about supernatural or paranormal activity? Go on-site to various locations throughout the Salt Lake Valley to detect any signs of paranormal activity. Call early as class fills quickly. Flashlight required.
description: Want to get spooked? Looking for evidence or information about supernatural or paranormal activity? Go on-site to various locations throughout the Salt Lake Valley to detect any signs of paranormal activity. Call early as class fills quickly. Flashlight required.
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