(no subject)
My mother places too much importance on the local weatherman. Really, all he does is read weather print outs while looking pretty and not screwing up when he tries to pretends there is a map behind him. Really, there is nothing special about the information he provides, as it is the same information provided by all the other meteorologists in the area.
And there is a difference between a meteorologist and a weatherman, I’m not denying that. A weatherman has been promoted from the sports desk and has his eye on the anchor’s chair, meanwhile the meteorologist spent the day looking at pressure charts muttering to himself “I got a degree in guessing, I wonder how long I have till they figure me out,” but the debate is besides the point. The point is my mother places the weatherman’s opinion over and above everyone else’s.
“Hey mah*, what time should we head down to the Goldman’s for the get together dinner?”
“I heard it was going to snow, so let’s wait for the weather.”
“I’ll check online, it’ll only take a minute.”
”You sit down, we’ll wait for the weather.”
“Do you just trust television, is that it? You know they have an entire channel for this now a days.”
”Don’t get snippy with me at the dinner table**, the weather’ll be on in a second, just wait.”
The worst part is, she almost never listens to him, or rather twists his words into what she assumed was true from the start.
“…and for you travelers out there, don’t you worry. These pockets of freezing rain will be focused on the coast, so the freeways will be free and drivable”
“you heard him mah, let’s go.”
”Ian, I watched the same report you did, and we aren’t going any where in these conditions.”
“But mah,”
”Oh, you stop now. Why do you have to make things so difficult?”
And so forth.
I prefer not to know the forecast, because it usually tells me exactly what I already knew: things will suck tomorrow, and they will suck for much of the near future.
Most ads for the local weather run like this: “It’ll be cold tomorrow, but just how long will this cold snap last? Find out, at eleven.” I don’t want to find out, I prefer to go to bed each night optimistic, and wake up each morning disappointed.
This morning I woke up to a somewhat heavy snow storm. I didn’t turn on the weather because I know it would depress me. It doesn’t matter if the university shuts down, or cancels undergraduate classes, I would still be expected to come to work and go to my seminars. Grad students are expected to have different concerns in their life, and it’s true. Even if the school was shut down, I would still be walking 20 minutes in the snow. I mean, I have papers to write, data to analyze, participants to run, articles to read, futures to prepare for.
But it’s true, your direction changes in grad school. Where as my first 15 years in school taught me to do just as much work to get by, suddenly I am faced new and different challenges.
For example, would I seem more or less professional if I am published with a middle initial? Would a “P.” in the author list bring much to the table? Would it bring the respect and adoration that I deserve? But worst, if I do put that middle initial there, would they be expecting something that I cannot provide? Would they arrive at the presentation expecting poise and sophistication and only get me? I look at my CV, all of my potential publications has the middle initial, half of my posters and presentations do not. These are the sorts of decisions that you can’t back out of, once you make the commitment to a middle initial there is no turning back. Such is the world of academia.
My adviser just handed me a paper to revise, he put in my middle initial for me. I wonder how he made that decision. But, this is besides the point. The point is, it’s cold out there and it ain't getting any warmer.
*I never call her mah, but pretend like I do.
** my mothers rule of “no arguing at the dinner table” basically translates as “no one but me talk at the dinner table”
And there is a difference between a meteorologist and a weatherman, I’m not denying that. A weatherman has been promoted from the sports desk and has his eye on the anchor’s chair, meanwhile the meteorologist spent the day looking at pressure charts muttering to himself “I got a degree in guessing, I wonder how long I have till they figure me out,” but the debate is besides the point. The point is my mother places the weatherman’s opinion over and above everyone else’s.
“Hey mah*, what time should we head down to the Goldman’s for the get together dinner?”
“I heard it was going to snow, so let’s wait for the weather.”
“I’ll check online, it’ll only take a minute.”
”You sit down, we’ll wait for the weather.”
“Do you just trust television, is that it? You know they have an entire channel for this now a days.”
”Don’t get snippy with me at the dinner table**, the weather’ll be on in a second, just wait.”
The worst part is, she almost never listens to him, or rather twists his words into what she assumed was true from the start.
“…and for you travelers out there, don’t you worry. These pockets of freezing rain will be focused on the coast, so the freeways will be free and drivable”
“you heard him mah, let’s go.”
”Ian, I watched the same report you did, and we aren’t going any where in these conditions.”
“But mah,”
”Oh, you stop now. Why do you have to make things so difficult?”
And so forth.
I prefer not to know the forecast, because it usually tells me exactly what I already knew: things will suck tomorrow, and they will suck for much of the near future.
Most ads for the local weather run like this: “It’ll be cold tomorrow, but just how long will this cold snap last? Find out, at eleven.” I don’t want to find out, I prefer to go to bed each night optimistic, and wake up each morning disappointed.
This morning I woke up to a somewhat heavy snow storm. I didn’t turn on the weather because I know it would depress me. It doesn’t matter if the university shuts down, or cancels undergraduate classes, I would still be expected to come to work and go to my seminars. Grad students are expected to have different concerns in their life, and it’s true. Even if the school was shut down, I would still be walking 20 minutes in the snow. I mean, I have papers to write, data to analyze, participants to run, articles to read, futures to prepare for.
But it’s true, your direction changes in grad school. Where as my first 15 years in school taught me to do just as much work to get by, suddenly I am faced new and different challenges.
For example, would I seem more or less professional if I am published with a middle initial? Would a “P.” in the author list bring much to the table? Would it bring the respect and adoration that I deserve? But worst, if I do put that middle initial there, would they be expecting something that I cannot provide? Would they arrive at the presentation expecting poise and sophistication and only get me? I look at my CV, all of my potential publications has the middle initial, half of my posters and presentations do not. These are the sorts of decisions that you can’t back out of, once you make the commitment to a middle initial there is no turning back. Such is the world of academia.
My adviser just handed me a paper to revise, he put in my middle initial for me. I wonder how he made that decision. But, this is besides the point. The point is, it’s cold out there and it ain't getting any warmer.
*I never call her mah, but pretend like I do.
** my mothers rule of “no arguing at the dinner table” basically translates as “no one but me talk at the dinner table”