Some Wrong Things...

Pack your knives, what???



Speechless.









Not this book, just the general idea of having to interpret interaction effects.

Have I told you lately?

Have I told you I'm going to Puerto Rico at the end of this month?

Star Struck

Ever since moving to Nashville, I've heard stories. Stories about celebrities. More accurate than that- celebrity sightings. Apparently, Nashville is the kind of place where celebrities do surprisingly normal things like have breakfast, shop, and drive around. It seems like everyone has a story about a celebrity sighting. So, in my first few weeks, I had the impression that I'd find celebrities shopping in my local Kroger and hanging out at the Mellow Mushroom on campus....not a chance.

I have had a couple of run-ins...my experience with Michelle Branch. And just a couple of weeks ago, Bobby Bare Jr. was having breakfast/lunch at the same diner. But after hearing my neighbors stories about Robert Plant gardening three streets over from where I currently live while he was recording the album with Krauss- I keep waiting for the "big" sighting. I'm just sure that Jack White washes his clothes at the same laundromat.

And then it happened. Last week, I decided to catch a matinee of MILK. Waiting in line, I noticed about 4 people in front of me was none other than Tim McGraw. At first I thought- there is no way this is him- he looks too much like him. But after a few moments, a woman behind me spoke in my ear..."You know who that is, don't you?" I shake my head to affirm that I've got a hunch. She replies, "It is. Isn't it so great to see that he likes to see movies by himself on rainy days?" Awww, Tim McGraw is just like me.

For me, McGraw is one of the biggest Nashville celebrity sightings (excluding Plant "planting") that I could experience. See, I'm not a fan of country music, particularly contemporary pop country music. There was a time though, that I was secretly purchasing country tapes from mail-order music clubs. I say secretly because the whole reason I was even purchasing from the music club is out of pure shame. There was absolutely no way I was walking into the record store and asking the person working there for the latest Martina McBride album.

Why was I listening to country music? I went native. I was surrounded by folks where I worked and lived by people who listened to nothing but country music. At work, the television was constantly on CMT. And I'll be honest, after a while, it doesn't sound that bad. Hell, I've said the same about The Dead after forced repeat listenings.

My first (and I do believe last) country crush was on Tim McGraw.

After all those tapes have long been thrown out or donated to some unsuspecting Goodwill, there is one that I keep. I couldn't throw it out despite the 5 moves I've made since then. As I scale down for each move, it survives. It is the Tim McGraw tape that I bought all those years ago. And yes, I was more than excited to see him standing in line to see a movie (for those of you that are curious, it was The Reader).

I resolve

Since the new year, I've been thinking on the idea of resolutions. I don't know why I feel compelled to think about them or to even attempt to compile a list, but every year I make an attempt. To be honest (a resolution?), I didn't start on New Years. Rather, I spent New Years Day rather horizontal- and no, not like that. I could barely move. I had a rather fun celebration the night before and pretty much ended up out of commission for about 36 hours. Alas, I thought on making a resolution that involved not drinking too much and playing with fireworks- but who am I kidding?

Then today, it dawned on me that I don't necessarily need resolutions regarding my year- but as Day One of my second semester at school rolls around, I thought I might need resolutions in regards to how I spend my next four months.

One, I resolve to actually cook and eat food during the semester. I will not simply pour my food from a can or box or bag. I will take the time to sit down and enjoy a good meal, regardless of how difficult or busy my semester gets.

Two, I resolve to do a better job of keeping in touch with friends and family, regardless of how the next four months happen. This includes Tim and the cats, as many days passed where I think I barely spoke to them or acknowledged their shared experience in my home.

Three, I resolve to spend more time in the city that is Nashville, instead of the holy temple that is Garland Hall. During the break, I made a visit to the art museum. I need to do this more. I need to venture out into the community.

Four, I resolve to take both an art and dance class. I planned this last semester and it didn't pan out. I refuse to allow myself to get too busy and forget that there are other enjoyable things in the world besides statistics.

Five, and lastly, I resolve to have fun. I know this seems like an odd resolution- and vague at that- but when the thick of the semester arrives, fun is a luxury. Going out with friends to talk about music or watching Old School and drinking beer seems like the last priority on a list of a thousand priorities.

Multicollinearity: Holiday Music for Nerds

Here is the 2008 holiday mix.

Bye Bye Bye- Plants and Animals
Some Kinda Love- The Velvet Underground
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right- Bob Dylan
Sun Down- Nik Freitas
Everyone I Know Is Listening to Crunk- Lightspeed Champion
I Wanna Be Like You- The Morning Benders
You Have to Be Joking- The Flaming Lips
Teenage Kicks- Nouvelle Vague
Yeah Sapphire- The Hold Steady
Geography- Thao
Trouble In Mind- Sister Rosetta Tharpe
My Only Offer- Mates of State
Calling and Not Calling My Ex- Okkervil River
The Worm In the Apple- Ezra Furman and the Harpoons
I've Been Loving You Too Long- Otis Redding


I've also posted a link to the iMix in case you'd like to find the songs online or you forgot to thank me sometime in the last 5 years.

Oh, regression- you are the bane of my existence.

The last two weeks and the next 5 days of my life have been and will be possibly the most difficult of my academic career. I'm not sure if I forgot what it was like to be in school or perhaps now that I'm climbing the floors of the ivory tower- but fuck, every single day adds another dimension of anxiety and tension. It is final exam week around here. Between two final exams in my statistics class, I've been chaotically writing two 15 to 30 page papers.

My ability to juggle and think efficiently has increased ten-fold. I realized you can actually type a paper while eating, at least if you like handheld food and can type pretty quickly with one hand. It is also possible to write out (hopefully semi-coherent) Christmas cards while watching Top Chef. I'm half surprised I haven't figured out a way to drink, smoke, and read- all while in the shower.

To be honest though, I thought I was on top of it. I felt like I was making progress toward a final goal of freedom which will arrive on Tuesday when I turn in my final paper. I thought this- at least until today, when it all felt like it came crashing down. Horribly melodramatic, I know, but it wasn't until my statistics final today that I felt like drinking a bottle of whiskey- and this time without trying to do any other work.

So, what happened? Fuck if I know. I know this though, sometime around 3:45 (about 45 minutes into the exam), I hit a brick wall. For the next hour and a half, I kept trying to find a way around the wall, but as the anxious minutes quickly ticked past- there seemed to be no way around it.

And I hate to say this more than anything, but I actually felt bad about it. Believe it or not. I'm a pretty flippant person, particularly about grades and school work. I go with it. I throw in the towel when I'm done- and usually don't look back. But for the first time in my entire academic career, I actually shed a tear. I know, I hate to even write it, but it happened.

It just felt so overwhelming. So disappointing. All that work and all that time seemed to be in vain. Now I realize (after a couple of beers and hours) it isn't. And after hearing endless attempts at reassurance..."I'm sure you really did great." I still feel pretty bummed about it. I suppose it might because for the first time I really care about how I did. And I sucked.

Farewell, Professor...

When I first started watching baseball, I immediately fell in love with Greg Maddux. Are you kidding me, check out the picture below- how could you not? No, really. How could you? Maddux looked completely out of sorts while pitching, with that tongue and all. But I loved him. I loved him because it is Maddux that made me realize how fascinating the game of baseball is. It wasn't until I watched Maddux take a hitter all the way up in the count that I saw the true essence of the struggle. So, when people would say to me, "Oh, baseball games, I don't watch those on television. They are so slow and boring." I always knew they either hadn't seen Maddux pitch or they were hopeless fools that were never going to get it anyways.

It always seemed like each pitch for Maddux was intentional. It was the best pitch he had in him. And it felt like he was fucking with the hitter a little bit. Rocking them back and forth on the plate, a ball, a strike, a change-up, you just couldn't count on knowing exactly what was coming out of that arm. I can remember back around the late 1990s watching Maddux pitch for the Braves and recognizing that each pitch meant something. This was the game.

"And it is with bittersweet emotions" that I bid you farewell and happy retirement, Maddux.


And here is a quote from an article on ESPN.com

"There's really not a lot you can do to improve it," Maddux said. "The game of baseball is almost perfect the way it is."

Hey, he should know.

Turkey Day?

Thanksgiving is a weird time for me for numerous reasons. This year it is awkward because it is almost the teaser before the end of the semester. Instead of being able to lay on my mother's couch after eating too much food, I'll be tearing through several books that I need to read to be able to write my many, many papers that are due in merely two weeks.

Beyond that, I'm pretty sure that Thanksgiving is a holiday that I disagree with on a number of human rights and animal rights issues. Luckily, I've been a vegetarian long enough now that people have stopped asking me in absolute disbelief about what I'll eat for the hedonistic holiday.

And even further than that, I have some pretty horrible memories attached to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the time in Boone in Cabin #4 with my family and an old friend. And Thanksgiving always reminds me of the last time I saw my dad. Most of you probably know that my dad passed away on December 1, 2000. We didn't have the best relationship and years had passed since I had seen him- when I received "the call." He had been living with MS for several years and it had finally beat him. I got the call with the old cliched narrative, "He's asking for you."

So, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, my mom and I got into a car and drove to see him. The whole trip down I kept thinking about my carefree Thanksgiving. How I was eating with my family, laughing and talking- never realizing what was waiting for me at the end of the weekend. What I always remember the most about the trip was my mom and I listening to an album by The Good Life. In particular, this song always resonates about that time.

A Golden Exit

I can see the chill in the air between us.
I can feel the winter coming, we're frozen in our stares.
And we know there's a world outside of these insults and injuries.
Maybe we're just too, afraid to be one.
The autumn sets a golden exit, the winter is waxing.
The cold sun will shed no more warmth into our living rooms.
Where we dream our dreams, where we wait for sleep.
Maybe we'll wake up with golden wings,
and fly over the city screaming, take me.

I woke up this morning to the silence of falling snow.
These graces of beauty have left me so cold.
I once had a heart, but hearts are like snowflakes,
and snowflakes, one warm touch and they melt away.
Maybe we'll get wings. Maybe anything.
Just anything to set us free. Maybe we'll wake up.
A golden exit.
Must we always wait for sleep?

We are the Champions!

Congratulations Obama and Biden!

I never knew I felt patriotic. Not until tonight.

Catastrophically Getting Older

I was reading an interview with Woody Allen that a good friend passed on to me...

DM (Douglas McGrath the interviewer): What's the worst thing about getting older?

WA: Well, your body breaks down and you're closer to death. So that's an unbeatable combination.

DM: Is there anything good about it?

WA: There's nothing good about getting older. Absolutely nothing. The amount of wisdom and experience you gain is negligible compared to what you lose. You do gain a couple of things- a little bittersweet and sour wisdom from your heartbreaks and failures. But what you lose is so catastrophic in every other way.

DM: Not a good trade.

WA: No. And, consequently, the whole thrust of science and the medical profession is to try and prevent it- to try to prolong life, to keep you from dying, to keep you from getting older, to rejuvenate you. I mean, that's everybody's wish. The fountain of youth is everybody's sought-after thing.

DM: You've written a lot about death over the years. Have your feelings about it changed at all?

WA: No. Death is a no-win proposition. Because you know what happens? You die. I'm not a religious person, so you die, and then you disintegrate in one way or another- and you're gone. That's it. There's no other at bat. It's one strike, and you're out.


But what you lose is so catastrophic in every other way. Indeed.

My civic duty...

I voted yesterday. What does this picture have to do with it? Tim and I are holding up our voting cards. I would have documented the actual process, but that seemed like overkill. I do have to say this though- I got misty-eyed looking at the ballot and seeing Obama's name there. I'm feeling overwhelmed by the sheer historic moment of all of this. And I feel nervous. I'll probably have trouble sleeping on Monday night, like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Photos of Apartment and Neighborhood

I know I've totally been slack about getting some photos up for my long lost friends in various parts of the world- so here you go.

I call this chapter "getting perspective"...

Despite the fact that my calendar is filled with numerous appointments, classes, meetings, and homework, I'm trying to learn how to gain perspective in my life. I've been sleeping less than normal lately, trying to catch up on school work and actually manage to maintain a normal life. A life that contains not only an academic training, but also a social life. I desire to ask everyone who has gone through this same experience, is it possible? Particularly the first semester.

Instead of questioning it, the first few weeks, I've surrendered to the life of school from 6 in the morning until midnight. I barely make time for anything else. Tonight, I decide to make some time for socializing, which I incredibly enjoyed. I needed it.

On my way home from the evening, I realized I'm starting to feel at home in Nashville. I saw this one particular sign which always indicates to me I'm almost home and it felt like that...home. This is good. I'm happy about this.

But after arriving home and checking my (school) email, I was informed that one of my students received a call this morning that her brother was killed in a car accident. It was forwarded to me from the professor I'm working for with the message, "awful"...and it is. It caught me off guard. I was expecting some information about school. I was expecting some instruction for the following week. And it was then, I realized my priorities have been all out of wack. I've given into the pressures of graduate school and carelessly forgotten EVERYTHING else.

And it was then I thought, I need some perspective. I need to remember my real priorities. I mean, school is school. There are expectations, but there are other things in my life that are far more important than a document citing the papers I've read, written, contributed to...and it was then I felt guilty. Guilty because I'm not sure how to re-prioritize and still enable myself to be successful in all the ways I hope. Though, I'm certainly realizing that I need to think about what is important. Finishing my paper and my presentation and my research is certainly important within a certain world. But this isn't the only world. This isn't all that there is...so I'm hoping to in the next week find a careful balance between expectations and my desires, all the while remembering the things that are most important to me.

There will be a lot of explaining to do...

I agree. There is a lot of explaining. Where the hell have I been for the last month? I have simply one answer. School. Yes, It is kicking my ass. This time around the experience is kicking my ass in numerous ways. I have some mornings where I wake up and think I could possibly skip town with my loan money, but then I question if the department would still pay me? Some mornings I'm ready to conquer the world and revolutionize the world of sociology (Is it possible, Colin?)Most mornings, I'm just tired, exhausted, running on about 6 hours of sleep, while still trying to read one last article, write one last word, conquer one last statistics problem.

I'm learning many valuable things. Most of these have to do with just learning essential ways to navigate the world. I'm learning about friendships. There is nothing like 20-odd new acquaintances and friends to teach on a mass level what it is like to have friends, keep friends, and maintain friends. I'm learning to prioritize. I've already had to give up my drunken life that I so dearly loved before. I've actually had to decide to skip the Ezra Furman show (last week) and the Conor Oberst/Jenny Lewis show (this weekend)- not to mention numerous parties. I find myself saying things like, "I'd rather clean my house and run problem set 3 instead of get rip roaring drunk and feel bad the next day." If that isn't maturity and responsibility, then I'm out. I have no idea.

This is drastically different from my last program. In that, I think there was maybe one or two weeks that I wasn't drunk, hungover, thinking about drinking, or out drinking. I'm over exaggerating the past for effect (I've also learned how to bullshit more too), but I'm having a very different experience from last time.

All of that being said, I'm having a great time. I feel a tiny bit like a lab rat, but I'm getting use to it. I spend at least 97% (approximately 2 standard deviations) of my time in either the sociology department or sitting at my work table...all the while reading or making stupid jokes about school (see above).

Beyond that...the obvious. I'm dealing with other experiences that I wasn't quite prepared for. I wasn't quite prepared for the identity ambivalence that I feel. Yes, I have a word now to discuss the distinct feeling of transition and confusion that I'm going through. Also, I know...what a whiner, right? I'm going to a top 20 school and I'm totally funded..and I'm bitching. I just can't help myself though. Besides, what good is a blog if I can't bitch from time to time.

So, yes, me...I'm at an elite institution. There are norms, rules, regulations, bureaucracies. There are things like networking and appearances. There are times I have to feign interest when really I'm planning my grocery list for the week. And a majority of the time, I spend walking around on the campus or sitting through class feeling like a total fraud. I'm nervous that one day next week or perhaps later in the semester that there will be some huge discovery that I don't belong here. I'm from the trailer park. I'm from the country. How dare I think I would belong? Right?

Now, I know....and please spare me any of the compassion (if that really exists) and the psychological analysis...but I think I've carried that feeling with me around for years. I've always felt slightly outside of the norm, just by a small amount. Not enough for others to notice, but just enough for me to notice.

And I know it probably isn't quite "disaster plus time" yet, but I mentioned this the other night to Tim and he immediately found a passage in David Foster Wallace's book of stories oblivion...and he read it to me. It resonated. It is from the story "Good Old Neon."

"My whole life I've been a fraud. I'm not exaggerating. Pretty much all I've ever done all the time is try to create a certain impression of me in other people. Mostly to be liked or admired. It's a little more complicated than that, maybe. But when you come right down to it it's to be liked, loved. Admired, approved of, applauded, whatever. You get the idea. I did well in school, but deep down the whole thing's motive wasn't to learn or improve myself but just to do well, to get good grades and make sports teams and perform well. To have a good transcript or varsity letters to show people. I didn't enjoy it much because I was always scared I wouldn't do well enough. The fear made me work really hard, so I'd always do well and end up getting what I wanted. But then, once I got the best grade or made All City or got Angela Mead to let me put my hand on her breast, I wouldn't feel much of anything except maybe fear that I wouldn't be able to get it again. The next time or next thing I wanted..."

There is more, but like he wrote, you get the idea. I'm not saying this is exactly what I feel, but given the circumstances, it seemed like a good idea to quote it.

Now onwards...

I came home from an all day required grant writing workshop today (yes, on Saturday) and I had a reading to complete for a class. The chapter is from John Dewey and I realized this is what I'm suppose to be thinking...and it felt good. It felt right.

"Life itself consists of phases in which the organism falls out of step with the march of surrounding things and then recovers unison with it- either through effort or by some happy chance. And, in a growing life, the recovery is never mere return to a prior state, for it is enriched by the state of disparity and resistance through which it has successfully passed. If the gap between organism and environment is too wide, the creature dies. If its activity is not enhanced by the temporary alienation, it merely subsists. Life grows when a temporary falling out is a transition to a more extensive balance of the energies of the organism with those of the condition under which it lives."

There is more -again. Though I think for one blog, this is plenty. I'm learning to navigate and negotiate. I'm trying to figure out who I'm going to be when this all seeps in and I start to change into something else. I'm scared. Who wouldn't be, right? And it is isolating.

I mean who really wants to hear me talk about regression lines.

So, why the bird picture? Last night I had a dream that feels completely indicative of the experience I'm having. I dreamt there was a butterfly in my house...that turned into a bird. It was flying all around trying to find the outside. It seems obvious. Metamorphosis and trying to make it to the outside.

Corruption, Consistency, and Safe Mode

After an entire week of introductions and orientations, I had a pleasant Saturday planned for myself. There would be a flea market. There would be a farmers market. There would be the ever slightest reading of school work. There would be some movie watching. There would even be some socializing and drinking at the end of this well experienced day. I had plenty to do and I'm awful glad I woke up early enough to make all of it happen.

I figured I would do some work on my internet classes I'm teaching this semester, while listening to some various podcasts. It was delightful- and usually grading isn't. I listened to some of the new Okkervil River album, which I am now anxiously anticipating the release of. I thought I'd take a quick break for some breakfast and newspaper reading after printing out a few things. As I set my computer down to plug in the printer...it froze up. Oh, no problem, right? Just restart. Upon the restart- my computer gave me some crazy error message about not being able to show the "native images." What the fuck is a native image? There are tons of funny "I was about to..." going through my head right now, but I'll save you from it. The next two hours involved me doing things like crashing and restarting my computer over and over again. Then, I dabbled in starting it in safe mode. Then I had the disk checked for consistency a handful of times.

I flipped through the manual. And I came to the conclusion how utterly dependent on a machine I am that I haven't the slightest clue how to fix it. I've never been the kind of person who has a computer screw up on them. I'm the person that always thinks "Oh, computer virus...it is a culture of fear out there! It'll never happen to me." I suppose I better get some identity protection now, since that is also somethingI have thrown around as part of the culture of fear.

Regardless, 6 hours later...one phone call to Dell...and a few crying fits...I gave into the inevitable. I had to restore my computer to the factory basics. It was tragic. I was going to lose all my music on my Itunes and my photos. But, wait, what is that you ask? Did I back-up recently? Yes, I backed up some stuff. I hadn't backed up my Itunes- Who the hell has time for that? And I hadn't backed up any pictures since May. It took merely 7 minutes for my entire computer to be wiped clean. I don't think I moved an inch while I watched the bar inch further and further over indicating that more and more of my work and memories were being erased. Ha! How melodramatic, right?

I'm over it today. I've already started rebuilding my Itunes library. I'm up to C and D today. My mom yesterday tried to convince me to see the positive. And when I was in my hour of darkness and she called, I had to smile. I had my head in my hands, I was surrounded by old cds and start-up repair cds...and when she called, I felt silly. Why? My ring on my cell phone is part of the Hold Steady's song "Stay Positive." And it was just all put into perspective. In the scheme of it all, not that important.

Besides, did I tell you I'm seeing The Hold Steady on Halloween? See, there are happier days around the corner.

This traumatic Saturday did make me think about the way we capture memories though. I remember the whole situation that Ben Bridwell of Band of Horses experienced when he hollered at a fan for taking video on her cell phone. He wanted to know what ever happened to people going to an event and just experiencing it. To just keeping the memories in their head- without the pictures to prove. And the thing I was most upset about losing were my pictures. So, I tried to remind myself that I still have the memories.

And hell, after all, I've got my blog to remind me if I forget.