Music and Memories

Music, sweet music. As I sit here reviewing last years academic applications, I am feeling particularly reflective about my music and my memories. Before I left for Perth, I ripped about 2/3 of my CD collection to my laptop, being that it is much easier to travel that way. Jazz, hip hop, funk, electronica, classical, rock, and more are all lumped together in digital form by iTunes. I have quite a lot of music that I have not listened to in literally years on here, and seeing and hearing it is like taking a trip down Memory Lane.

For nearly every album I own, I've realized that I have a memory that comes to mind when I hear it. It could be that the music reminds of a person - "The Humpty Dance" makes me think of my pal SEP illustrating he can do it or my pal MBF telling me he how he totally rocked the karaoke with it at the office Christmas party last year. It could be that it reminds me of myself - The younger, melodramatic teenage me used to listen to Nirvana's Unplugged, My Bloody Valentine's Loveless, or REM's Automatic for the People, among many, many others in my bedroom by evening candlelight. It could be that I am reminded of an instant (in the car with EM singing "Billy Jean" at the top of our lungs), a moment (Brian Chartrand in the truck with SPK) or an era (the jazz, blues, and metal music I listened to with JDB for nearly a decade).

I got to looking at my list of music and realized that very little of it holds current memories for me. Most of my musical memories are from the past. Has it not long enough for music and memories to become musical memories? I am not sure. Most of my time with music in the last years has been me working alone on my dissertation - WEFUNK & Pandora in the lab, NPR in the office. Perhaps my lack of musical memories is the fact that I currently don't have access to these memory triggers. Perhaps I don't want to remember the last few years yet. Perhaps I need some new music to make memories with... I do know one thing, though. All this music and memories is making me feel a bit homesick. :-)

Spring in the Swan Valley

Spring in the Valley is an annual weekend festival in the Swan Valley, a wine grape vineyard area just north east of Perth. There are more than 20 "wineries" who participate in the festivities, opening the doors of the vineyard and restaurants to the public for nominally-priced tastings, food, and music. I put wineries in quotes because most places are simply vineyards that supply larger wine producers and do not actually bottle under a unique label for widespread sale. Most places did have their own wines for tasting, bottled specifically for the festival. At least that is my understanding... I could be wrong.

On 14 Oct, a bunch of us from the Uni met in Perth and we hopped a Midland line train to Guildford, where we met some more folks and purchased bus passes for 10 AUD at the tourism office, allowing us bus transportation all over the valley for the day. You can find a map and information on each of the wineries in the brochure. It was so great traveling around on the bus watching row after row of grape vines go by from the window. There is something serene about the perfect rowed order of stalks and wines, repeating over the landscape. The vines were in bloom, and without the weight of the fruit the leaves looked as if to float on outstretched arms.

First stop: Hougton Wines. The place was a mad house and it was quite fun. There were families picnicking on the grounds with blankets and coolers, people dressed in togas, as gladiators, cowgirls, police officers (with fuzzy tiger handcuffs), tennis players (they might have been), and more. And, amidst all of this was ladies couture fashion. I wish I had taken more photos! Women in heels aerating the lawn, short flowing dresses, yellow everywhere. It appears that yellow is the new black... and not only the nice shades, either. Does anyone look good in mustard? How about dandelion? "Yellow meets celery"? I digress... There were large, bouncy, air-filled "houses" for kids to play in and people roaming around with open bottles of wine, stopping only to talk with the ladies or their "mates" or to take a swig without soiling their fine clothes/costumes/togas. A giant party with the karaoke band at the stage taking requests. Fun, fun, fun! The wine however, bleh. They were $5AUD for 3 tastes. The wines I tasted there were too sweet for my liking, such as "clean whites" or chardonnays, even the reds (merlot and shiraz and cab. sav.) were too sweet. Not to mention I was starting to wonder about all the people drunk on sugary wine and how they were about to feel when the effects of the wine wore off and the effects of dehydration wore on. Not wanting to stay all day, we moved on.

Next stop: Duckstein Brewery. We had with us a visitor from Uni in Germany, and thought it would be great to treat her to a taste of home. After a half hour bus ride, we arrived to find the grounds were at capacity and we had to wait in line as they were at capacity. We waited for our turn to replace revelers as they left, but after 10 minutes, those in line were all informed no more persons were to be allowed in regardless if people left. That was disappointing and some of the cohort though we should jump the wall into the courtyard, but decided against it when the burly bouncers came forward out of the trees to dissuade the others who had already acted on the idea. We then took to foot towards town seeking another location.

Third stop: Black Swan. We passed through the restaurant into the backyard to find a live band, and nicely groomed lawn with plenty of room to sit or stand, and a moderate sized crowd. This place had a much more relaxed atmosphere, with people relaxing with friends and family, dancing, or sharing a meal. We didn't stay long, only about a half an hour. Only long enough for most of the cohort to complete the seven wine tastings and head back to the very crowded bus to avoid being stranded after the bus stopped running.

Last stop: A pub/restaurant in Guilford. I don't remember the name... Australians are a fan of what they call the "Sunday Session" where Sunday afternoon's and evenings are reserved for chilling at a favorite pub/restaurant/cafe with friends chatting, relaxing, and sharing some drinks. Its quite wonderful and reminds me of my daily sessions in Amherst with my girls at Raos. At this point, the thought of anything other than food made me ill and luckily they everyone else was hungry too. We had fantastic meals and I had a great time relaxing and chatting in the outdoor garden seating area. It was a great end to a great tour of the very beautiful Swan Valley. The Aussies sure know how to let their hair down, relax, and party. Us uptight New Englanders could use a few lessons.

No ID....?

After a week of controlling a beam centrifuge testing program nearly single-handedly - spending long hours worrying about getting good data (I did have assistance from great physical setup and computer program support staff), I got sick. Sore throat, coughing, I thought I had strep throat... the whole deal.

I finally looked into going to the doctor to get it looked at, but that was late Friday night. Turns out, most places, including the hospital, don't see people after hours unless it's an emergency (I didn't feel it was), so I had to look up some after hours clinics. I opted to wait until Monday and go to the Uni Medical Center. I went to my appointment and had to fill out some paperwork, which I thought would be grueling from my experiences back home. Nope. They asked my name, address, birthday, sex, contact info, insurance info, and emergency contact info. I told them my insurance deal is that I pay up front and get reimbursed when I submit a claim. Not one time did they ask for any ID. When I saw the doctor, she only asked me if I am allergic to any medications. No asking about medical history, family medical history, nothing. Strange. The appointment lasted only five minutes, anyhow, and since a sore throat is not so serious, so probably that information was not critical. At least the whole deal was way cheap compared to US prices!

Heirisson Island

Saturday around dusk RJ and I rode to Heirisson Island, a little island in the Swan River (~ 20 km ride there and back) slightly east of Perth's city center. On the island is a large fenced in area, which serves as an unofficial wildlife preserve, with large fields and ponds for water fowl. Our neighbors told us they'd seen kangaroos there around dusk, so we headed out to see if we could spot them.
We crammed our bikes through the gates and headed around the island looking for the kangaroos and pelicans. We happened to get there just after the Park Ranger arrived, and we found him feeding the 6 kangaroos that inhabit the area. We got some photos and a video of them being fed. We were a bit skittish to approach at first, thinking of all the horror stories of kangaroos kicking people into oblivion. But the park ranger was really nice and invited us to feed them with him. They were eating some regular looking grain/feed pellets and were quite docile compared to their more wild relatives (apparently). They have long, dark eyelashes, and it looks like they have the mouths of rodents, but they chew kind of side-to-side like cows. As I was feeding one of them, she didn't like that I was holding the food a bit too high for her to get at, so she reached up with her claws and grabbed onto my hand to pull it down. You can see how long the claws are in the pictures! I was nervous as I saw her grabbing up at me, but didn't want to get kicked because of any sudden moves, so I let her latch on. Surprisingly, they were not too sharp, and she held on for a few mouthfuls. I think they are rather funny animals with their large, thick tails and back legs, but tiny T-Rex arms. We asked the park ranger where they came from, and he said they were mostly rescued, but from where he didn't know.

When they got tired of eating, they hopped away into the brush, so we took off on the bikes to try to find some other interesting wildlife. We came upon some pelicans, which are much larger in real life than I imagined. We got some photos, but it was getting too dark. They were swimming around in a large group with two sentinels checking us out to make sure we weren't going to try any funny business. It was interesting to watch them fish. In sync, they tipped up, thrust their heads and necks into the water, and stuck out their wings horizontal to the water surface for balance. They all seemed to come up at the same time, too! It was neat. They wouldn't let us get very close though, and it was not long before they flew off. Imagine the wing power of a dozen large birds flying off... amazing.

The sky down under...

On the way back from a bike ride Saturday night, I took notice of the moon and stars. It's a bit strange to not see the Big or Little Dippers or Orion when I look into the night sky. I don't know any of the constellations in the southern hemisphere, perhaps I will get a star guide to get to know the sky better. A really cool thing that I noticed is that the moon has slivers on the top and bottom when it waxes and wanes, as opposed to slivers on the left and right like back home. R and I tried to take a good photo, but without a tripod, this was the best we got. Enjoy...

A Rant on Australian Cheese...

Since I have been here, there are a few things that I have really started to miss. The main thing…? Ranting. No one here really rants except maybe my American housemates - maybe. Is it an American thing? I think not. It is, however, a fine and subtle art, one of which I was beginning to master under the tutelage of UMass's very own MC Misconception. To quote: "good ranting takes practice, so you'll need to set a good/semi-disturbing example to others if you want quality ranting". The only problem with that is the people at the Uni, and Aussies in general, are a gentle folk – kind hearted, content, and benign. I fear the mere hint of a rant would cause them to think of me not only as a curmudgeon, but malignant to the point of being ostracized. But, if I don’t get back to it, I fear I will lose my flair forever. So, then, I will attempt to reconnect in this posting. Here goes. Forgive me if I am a bit rusty or lack the necessary ZING!

One word – CHEESE. Of all the things I miss about home, the ability to get some good cheese is ever in the forefront of my mind. Those of you who know me I am not big on the white, creamy-type foods – and I have always thought cheese exempt from that category, until now. I have tried on three separate occasions to purchase Feta cheese in this country – all different brands and different purchasing locations (looking for better selections) – and every time it tastes like grainy, rotten mozzarella. Each time I have had to throw it away for fear of getting some horrible cheese disease just because of the taste. While on my quest for some edible cheese, I discovered that nearly everything sold in any non-specialty store is made in Australia, or specifically, Western Australia. I have yet to find an "Imported Cheese Emporium", if one even exists. And, there is not only the Australian knock-off Feta, but Gouda, Edam, Mozzarella (which is off too, by the way), Cheddar, etc. Oh but Ricotta? Forget it, it can't be found! Early on I was lured in by the Crackerbarrel label on some Cheddar, thinking "I know it's not the best back home, but it's likely to better than all this Aussie cheese". Only to find out from a rather bland taste test back at the apartment that even that is made here! You have got to be kidding me! You may think I am exaggerating, but let me tell you there are three flavors of cheese here – "hint of taste", "flavorless" or "just plain gross". Oh, to have some mild, hot, soft, hard, smelly, moldy, tangy, sharp, smooth, rich, or delicious cheese from places who really know how to do it right…

WATER. Since I have been here, my skin has gotten dry and itchy, my hair has started to feel like straw, and I have had to stop wearing my contacts because of really dry eyes. At first I thought it was because of the dry air – but that theory was out to window when I realized it has rained nearly half the time I've been here. There is no way the air was making me feel like the alligator in those Lubriderm commercials. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I was drinking plenty of water, taking my vitamins, eating my fruits and veggies, including avocados to try to get some good fats to restore my skin to shining suppleness. It was getting to the point though, where my skin started to "hurt" if you can imagine, perhaps irritating (I wanted to scratch it all off) would be a better term.

Well, I got my answer at the hair-dresser. First off, it was a bad idea to go to this place, I know, but I was desperate to restore my hair to its former glory by cutting off the dry split ends. Number one problem, the guy was stinking up the place doing a permanent for some older woman. Number two, he was the only hair dresser. Number three, I should have run when he sat me in the chair, got out his scissors and started clipping away. No hair wetting at all, I was under the impression that wet hair was imperative for cutting. At least he asked me how much to trim off, though he didn’t see the layers that existed until I pointed them out. Anyhow, it is the second worst haircut of my life and all I got was a trim. But he did ask… "Is your hair or skin feeling dry?" Great! I though, Can everyone tell? I humbly answered yes, and he told me that is pretty common in Perth because the water is heavily chlorinated and fluorinated. Eureka! I thought. I am being poisoned! Needless to say, I started drinking bottled water on Monday, and after 5 days, my skin and eyes and hair are nearly back to normal. Though I still have to shower in it…but now I have to use moisturizer. Crikey, I came halfway around the world to be poisoned. Great....

Score: Australia -4 (cheese -2, bad haircut -1, water -1)
Score to date: AUS/UWA -1, USA/UMass 1

Perth Domesticity

I thought I'd put up some photos I took around the house. Living here is interesting. Most of the houses are made of brick, where the outside brick face is either left untouched or stuccoed over for a finishing touch. Most places are not insulated, as the winter doesn't get particularly cold, supposedly. Most homes outside of the city are single story with low roofs and small and few windows. I suppose that is to keep the places cool in the hot hot sun. I am staying in an area called Nedlands, and the average price for a house (w/ three beds and two baths) is about $750,000 to $1.5 million. Its expensive to live here.

Its also expensive to eat here. With the serious droughts overtaking the east coast of Australia (reservoirs in Sydney are at less than 30% capacity) and encroaching on Western Australia where a lot of the countries food is grown, food prices are expected to skyrocket by summer. Farmers are afraid their topsoil is going to blow away now, and it is only October. I imagine it will be much worse in January, when even the lushest of the lush I've seen here will be brown and dry. I hear eggs will double in price, as well as meat and milk. I suppose veggie and fruit prices will also rise as more produce will have to be imported.

Anyhow, I digress. I like living in this apartment. Its fully furnished with a stocked kitchen, and plenty of room for me and my two house mates. The grocery is only a few blocks away, which is also great.

GRADual Progress

While at the 13th Carnival of GRADual Progress, I stumbled upon a gem of a post on time from Psyc Girl. That got me to thinking....

We are all in the same boat when it comes to wondering where the time has gone. During grad school, I made list after list of tasks to complete each day, each week, each month, etc. for the purpose of increasing my own productivity and reestablishing balance in my shell of a life. I also tried to keep hourly track of what I did with myself everyday, until that got way too depressing. I have often wondered why time management can be so hard one day and so easy another. I attribute it to several things:

Computers. Do we really think that inspiration will come as we sit facing this bright cyclops? I found that I got way more accomplished when I turned my back to this soul sucking beast, got out a pencil and scrap paper, and spent 5 minutes mapping out my writing plan. There is nothing that says writers block like having to worry about formatting from the very start.

Computers. The necessities: email, streaming radio, blogs, news, You Tube, you know, the necessities. Don't forget computer programs crashing (I am thinking of starting a support group for traumatized Excel 2007 users...), formatting written work, and the time involved in compulsively and obsessively backing up copy after copy of our written work for fear of it being lost in the oblivion of a dead hard drive.

Lack of realism. This is perhaps the single most ignored issue faced by members of academic society (and I suspect this extends to all societies). It was close to the end of my PhD that I realized that many of my problems were related to my unrealistic expectations of what I could do with my time. I had been making to-do lists that couldn't be accomplished by a "normal" individual, much less one who was chronically exhausted, stressed, neurotic, emotionally withdrawn, etc., and so on. Then I started asking, what can really be accomplished today, what is necessary, what is optional, what can wait?

Why do we expect to crank out a chapter in a day or week, when we know the whole dissertation process can take years or decades? Do we factor in the time required to think, to process ideas and information? Do we account for mental exhaustion or task difficulty when making our lists? Why do we pile todays unfinished tasks onto tomorrow and expect we can accomplish twice as much work? Why do we allow ourselves to feel inept and overwhelmed by our inability to complete "simple" tasks, which escalates as the week progresses and the accomplishments far underway the undone? I'll tell you why... Lack of Realism. We do not make realistic lists or have realistic expectations of our time. We may be super productive in finishing some things, but because we have outstanding tasks staring up at us from our lists, our success is continually clouded by failure.

Another really important thing that PhD seekers need to understand is the mind set in which we have been trained to view success, productivity, and time used well. This topic has been discussed in great detail by my confidants in a women's PhD support group I joined as I was near finishing my dissertation. We all views progress/success as a continual checking off of to- do lists that were product based. For instance, things like: write chapter, read article, meet advisor, apply for adjunct position, etc. This is somewhat related to society's history as do-ers (farmers, manufacturers, widget makers, etc.). What we often forget is that the PhD is less about the end (dissertation) than the means to the end, or, the process. In with the tangible progress is the thinking, imagining, creating, idea generating, knowledge processing, understanding that requires our time as well. Without all this (arguably more important ) synthesis time and effort, we may as well be robots typing out copies of MacBeth or regurgitating the work of our fore-mothers and -fathers.

Where is that time on our to-do lists?

Famous.... almost...

In my short time at UWA, I have managed to permanently install myself at the beam centrifuge, ensuring my legacy will remain here for far longer than I will. My first legacy exists in the form of a remote warning system, for which I was the voice model. This system allows the users to set monitor parameters for the centrifuge, and should these parameters change, they will be notified by my sweet voice via computer, mobile phone, and by email (no voice on that) issuing specific warnings for specific problems. Its not like I had to audition for the part, though. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. My legacy also exists in the form of a 1.6 kN load cell named in my honor... again, right place... right time. :)

I like it it here more and more everyday. You want to know why? Because here, hard work is rewarded with an ego boost to sooth the tired researcher's soul. It does worry me slightly, though. Have I already used my 15 minutes of fame at such a young age?

Score: UWA 1, UMass 0
(I know personal satisfaction for all my hard work and effort should be my reward, but thats got nothing next to the trappings of fame...)

Subiaco Pavillion Market

Weekends down under are all about fresh foods. Every weekend I take the bus to the open air market housed in an old warehouse. I love coming home with my yellow bags full of vegetables and fruits for salads galore. My housemates joke that they haven't eaten so many vegetables in many years, but we enjoy standing around the kitchen washing (there is enough sand from a head of lettuce for a turtle sandbox!) and chopping and then eating our yummy creations!

About the market, markets online says this:

Subiaco is a vibrant inner city suburb known for its boutique shopping, cafes and galleries. The Subiaco Pavillion markets, housed in a restored warehouse, resonate with the local character. Seventy-five stallholders display a wide range of stock, including local fashion designers and artists. The food pavillion provides a top spot for a quick meal. Live entertainment adds to the ambience in the evenings and Sunday afternoons.

We go to the Golden Choice veggie/fruit stand, one of three at the market. It has the best prices and at any given time a third of market go-ers must be in there. It's crowded, with cashiers at two corners and lines that extend along the stall's perimeter, and where you have to ask people to pass things from the refrigerator cases or give it a go, rummaging around blindly for the cilantro. The closeness of the aisles and people is generally not my thing when shopping back home, but here I not only have patience for this, but I revel in the intimate interaction of the colorful produce, restockers, and very polite shoppers. It must be utopia. Perhaps the proximity of freshness and color puts a spell on me. That may be, but I definitely attribute the lack of grocery store "musak" to the calming of my soul.