IAEA, RDD and other useless acronyms
It's just another one of those Saturday nights when your apartment sits quietly empty around you and you frantically piece together the 20-page rough draft of a research paper due Monday. And you haven't actually done any legitimate research. Yet.
It's a terrible situation. I really ought to blame myself. Surely over the past weeks I could have bothered to open a book or website and jot down a few interesting facts, form a coherent outline, look ahead... at all. At the same time, I am calmly updating my livejournal, eating lemon sorbet (a work of culinary genius, by the way) and watching the flame of my orange-scented candle slowly turn the glass container a smoky black. (I also just figured out how to put links in like that-- pretty cool. It's a worthless link, by the way, I'm not trying to unscrupulously promote Edy's. In general, I like Breyer's best for ice cream, anyway.)
The paper isn't exactly writing itself, but after a day-long struggle, I've managed to come up with 13-pages worth of dry information on Radiological Dispersal Devices or RDDs. I'm sick of thinking about it, sick of sitting at my computer and above all, sick of acronyms. I've never liked them. They're confusing and clumsily bureaucratic, plus they look silly and sound worse. My mom works in an acronym and speaks the language of ALL CAPS remarkably well. It's fun to hear people have conversations with acronyms, though. It feels like you've travelled abroad, and really, you're in a greyish sea of cubicles and fashion nightmares. Speaking of which, I watched a lot of "What Not to Wear" in Jill's suite today. My dream job is to endlessly seek self-improvement and promote shameless commercialism by starring in infomercials. In preface to that, however, I would love love love to be on a make-over show. I've been mad about them ever since those distant days of E! Fashion Emergency with Emme.
Well. Seven more pages of IAEA, NRC, RDD, and my personal favorite, CRCDP...
over and out.
It's a terrible situation. I really ought to blame myself. Surely over the past weeks I could have bothered to open a book or website and jot down a few interesting facts, form a coherent outline, look ahead... at all. At the same time, I am calmly updating my livejournal, eating lemon sorbet (a work of culinary genius, by the way) and watching the flame of my orange-scented candle slowly turn the glass container a smoky black. (I also just figured out how to put links in like that-- pretty cool. It's a worthless link, by the way, I'm not trying to unscrupulously promote Edy's. In general, I like Breyer's best for ice cream, anyway.)
The paper isn't exactly writing itself, but after a day-long struggle, I've managed to come up with 13-pages worth of dry information on Radiological Dispersal Devices or RDDs. I'm sick of thinking about it, sick of sitting at my computer and above all, sick of acronyms. I've never liked them. They're confusing and clumsily bureaucratic, plus they look silly and sound worse. My mom works in an acronym and speaks the language of ALL CAPS remarkably well. It's fun to hear people have conversations with acronyms, though. It feels like you've travelled abroad, and really, you're in a greyish sea of cubicles and fashion nightmares. Speaking of which, I watched a lot of "What Not to Wear" in Jill's suite today. My dream job is to endlessly seek self-improvement and promote shameless commercialism by starring in infomercials. In preface to that, however, I would love love love to be on a make-over show. I've been mad about them ever since those distant days of E! Fashion Emergency with Emme.
Well. Seven more pages of IAEA, NRC, RDD, and my personal favorite, CRCDP...
over and out.