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Apr. 15th, 2007
Now I feel a whole lot better
Apr. 15th, 2007 09:36 amSo, to recapitulate the last couple of days:
I spent Friday weighing out pulverized leaf samples to prepare to measure their phosphorus content on Saturday. I ended up going to sleep rather early, and got up to do laundry before heading to the lab at 7:30. K and I weren't sure how long the process for measuring phosphorus would take us, and I had estimated that it would take around 8 hours. As it turned out, I was in the lab for a total of 11 hours. We did get a nice break in the middle, which we used as an opportunity to clean up the lab a bit. Altogether, though, it was a good reminder of why I have such a hard time getting my research done in the middle of the semester--it just requires chunks of time that are too large and undpredictable. I'm not sure yet how much information I'll be able to get out of our results from yesterday, either.
( blah blah blah research details for those who are curious )
Following the long day in the lab, I headed over to meet up with a few friends at the ASU Art Museum's annual short film festival, which for me is one of the artistic highlights of the year. It's free, it's convenient, it's unpredictable, and when it's not raining, it's a fantastic venue on a plaza outside of the museum (although the concrete starts to feel a bit hard after a few hours). Oh, and if I hate a film, it's okay, because it ends quickly. A couple of my friends who are serious foodies composed a nice picnic spread before the event, and I gratefully partook of it and then settled in for the films, all 24 of them.
I was kind of disappointed by the first half--there were a lot of films employing various types of animation (think lots of stop motion with some computer animation thrown in for good measure), but a lot of the films just seemed to float free of any context or meaning. An exception was a well-done piece by Bill Plympton called Guide Dog, who also produced the short film Guard Dog, which verged on melodramatic but was still quirky and cute. A piece called Bottleneck, presumably about a man "stumbling through his dreams" who "must identify his true desire if he is ever to escape" (blah blah blah, description from program), was typical of the hodgepodge nature of the first act. It was one of those pieces that reminded me of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
annikusrex's story about the perfect audience member, a young boy who glanced through the program when part of a show failed to capture his interest. Yeah. I probably fidgeted a bit more through those 11 minutes, but then again, I was sitting on concrete, not in a comfy chair.
The last piece of the first act, a film called [Desi're] The Goldstein Reels was the most compelling--it was a narrated piece, presumably an old celluloid film from Jack Goldstein's estate that featured shots of roses and a woman disappearing into the ocean. I think the narration enforced the ambiguity of the film, which was helpful since it was short. If it had been longer, it might have been more interesting without any guided interpretation (although the purpose of the guided interpretation was to confuse matters).
The second act was much more interesting than the first; the second film, Hadacol Christmas, by Brent Green, was about Green's grandfather as Santa Claus, a man who invented Christmas "with a belly full of cough syrup and a head full of dying crows." Green actually came to the film festival and played a live accompaniment and narration with the film. I was a bit skeptical about the idea at first, worrying that it would be too contrived, but Green's querulous voice matched the quality of his animations and the nature of the storytelling quite well. His animation style was vaguely reminiscent of David Russo's films (Populi, for instance), although Green's stop motion animation was mostly paper-based (but patches of paper pasted on other paper). Green actually had three films in the festival, and the final piece (Carlin) was one of the best: it was a story about the farmhouse where Green grew up, and about the period when his Aunt Carlin moved in so she could die. I have to say, any stop-motion film that involves taxidermy chickens deserves at least a little bit of respect.
After the festival ended, we headed back to the home front, where some of T's friends threw a surprise party for him. The party ended up not getting as big as I had feared, so I was able to go to sleep at around 1:40. Unfortunately, I woke up at 5:30, so I expect to crash at some point during the day today.
I spent Friday weighing out pulverized leaf samples to prepare to measure their phosphorus content on Saturday. I ended up going to sleep rather early, and got up to do laundry before heading to the lab at 7:30. K and I weren't sure how long the process for measuring phosphorus would take us, and I had estimated that it would take around 8 hours. As it turned out, I was in the lab for a total of 11 hours. We did get a nice break in the middle, which we used as an opportunity to clean up the lab a bit. Altogether, though, it was a good reminder of why I have such a hard time getting my research done in the middle of the semester--it just requires chunks of time that are too large and undpredictable. I'm not sure yet how much information I'll be able to get out of our results from yesterday, either.
( blah blah blah research details for those who are curious )
Following the long day in the lab, I headed over to meet up with a few friends at the ASU Art Museum's annual short film festival, which for me is one of the artistic highlights of the year. It's free, it's convenient, it's unpredictable, and when it's not raining, it's a fantastic venue on a plaza outside of the museum (although the concrete starts to feel a bit hard after a few hours). Oh, and if I hate a film, it's okay, because it ends quickly. A couple of my friends who are serious foodies composed a nice picnic spread before the event, and I gratefully partook of it and then settled in for the films, all 24 of them.
I was kind of disappointed by the first half--there were a lot of films employing various types of animation (think lots of stop motion with some computer animation thrown in for good measure), but a lot of the films just seemed to float free of any context or meaning. An exception was a well-done piece by Bill Plympton called Guide Dog, who also produced the short film Guard Dog, which verged on melodramatic but was still quirky and cute. A piece called Bottleneck, presumably about a man "stumbling through his dreams" who "must identify his true desire if he is ever to escape" (blah blah blah, description from program), was typical of the hodgepodge nature of the first act. It was one of those pieces that reminded me of
annikusrex's story about the perfect audience member, a young boy who glanced through the program when part of a show failed to capture his interest. Yeah. I probably fidgeted a bit more through those 11 minutes, but then again, I was sitting on concrete, not in a comfy chair.The last piece of the first act, a film called [Desi're] The Goldstein Reels was the most compelling--it was a narrated piece, presumably an old celluloid film from Jack Goldstein's estate that featured shots of roses and a woman disappearing into the ocean. I think the narration enforced the ambiguity of the film, which was helpful since it was short. If it had been longer, it might have been more interesting without any guided interpretation (although the purpose of the guided interpretation was to confuse matters).
The second act was much more interesting than the first; the second film, Hadacol Christmas, by Brent Green, was about Green's grandfather as Santa Claus, a man who invented Christmas "with a belly full of cough syrup and a head full of dying crows." Green actually came to the film festival and played a live accompaniment and narration with the film. I was a bit skeptical about the idea at first, worrying that it would be too contrived, but Green's querulous voice matched the quality of his animations and the nature of the storytelling quite well. His animation style was vaguely reminiscent of David Russo's films (Populi, for instance), although Green's stop motion animation was mostly paper-based (but patches of paper pasted on other paper). Green actually had three films in the festival, and the final piece (Carlin) was one of the best: it was a story about the farmhouse where Green grew up, and about the period when his Aunt Carlin moved in so she could die. I have to say, any stop-motion film that involves taxidermy chickens deserves at least a little bit of respect.
After the festival ended, we headed back to the home front, where some of T's friends threw a surprise party for him. The party ended up not getting as big as I had feared, so I was able to go to sleep at around 1:40. Unfortunately, I woke up at 5:30, so I expect to crash at some point during the day today.
Boys, and other brief musings
Apr. 15th, 2007 12:51 pmI don't really have anything new to say on the subject. Sometimes this makes me kind of nervous. Mostly, it's a sign of ambivalence. Oh well.
One of the things I miss the most about the Co-Op is its bulk spices. Today I had to buy salt in a disposable container, a small thing, but annoying nonetheless. In addition to the environmental concerns associated with excess packaging, I'm finding that I have developed an aesthetic concern as well. I like things in real containers, not baggies or plastic cartons or boxes that must constantly be disposed of, and soon, lest they occupy my precious space. I don't like things that arrive enshrouded in packing peanuts or scraps of paper or pillows of plastic. I don't like trying to find an extra corner to tuck away sugar slumped in bags, or trying to decide what to do with old spice bottles after they run out.
I am reaching the conclusion that my clothes don't fit right anymore. My eating habits changed when I went to Australia, and now once-comfortable belt buckles are slouchingly loose and in danger of falling off altogether. My favorite pink skirt is no longer decent in public without the aid of a safety pin. Clothes that don't fit right are uncomfortable--especially ill-fitting pants. This means that it's time for some sewing and for some clothing shopping. And you should know by now how much I enjoy that. Perhaps I'll hazard a trip to the Mall of Doom to the Gap. Ugh.
One of the things I miss the most about the Co-Op is its bulk spices. Today I had to buy salt in a disposable container, a small thing, but annoying nonetheless. In addition to the environmental concerns associated with excess packaging, I'm finding that I have developed an aesthetic concern as well. I like things in real containers, not baggies or plastic cartons or boxes that must constantly be disposed of, and soon, lest they occupy my precious space. I don't like things that arrive enshrouded in packing peanuts or scraps of paper or pillows of plastic. I don't like trying to find an extra corner to tuck away sugar slumped in bags, or trying to decide what to do with old spice bottles after they run out.
I am reaching the conclusion that my clothes don't fit right anymore. My eating habits changed when I went to Australia, and now once-comfortable belt buckles are slouchingly loose and in danger of falling off altogether. My favorite pink skirt is no longer decent in public without the aid of a safety pin. Clothes that don't fit right are uncomfortable--especially ill-fitting pants. This means that it's time for some sewing and for some clothing shopping. And you should know by now how much I enjoy that. Perhaps I'll hazard a trip to the Mall of Doom to the Gap. Ugh.