Pics from Tyson's visit

Tyson and I decided to dress up as Santas and paint the town red...and white....or green, as it were. We were warmly received at the local watering hole.





We also decided to make Georgian dumplings, aka 'khinkali'.
Morning...oats.

"Don't Make Me Get All Virtuous up in this Piece," or "When Various Facets of my Greatness Collide"

I am the most punctual person you will ever meet. I would say that punctuality is my foremost virtue. You will never have to wait for me nor will you have to be inconvenienced by my dilly-dallying. If I cannot make an engagement on time, then I will just not attend the engagement. For example, if I cannot get to the symphony on time, I will not go. I will not walk in late or even wait until intermission. If you invite me to dinner and I know that a prior obligation would result in my being late, I will politely refuse the invitation. Much to my dismay, others are not as punctual as I am, nor are they as considerate as I am when it comes to avoiding showing up late, holding up the show, etc.

Group dinners always annoy me. You try to assemble 7-10 or more of your friends to go to a restaurant. There's always someone running late that makes that planned departure time of 7:30 become 7:40, or worse, 7:45. That person ought not to go, in my opinion. If you cannot leave at the scheduled time of departure, you forfeit your place at the table or in the carpool. And of course, sorting out the check is another fiasco that invariably occurs in such situations, but that is another story. My summer job confronts me with situations like these at least twice per week.

Students coming to class late annoys me. It is disruptive and disrespectful to the other students and me. If you can't make it one time, drop the class and sign up for something that fits with your schedule better. You might also consider dropping out of college because you're not gonna be able to keep that fancy job you get when you graduate if you can't get there on time.

If you are chronically late, take this into account when making plans. For example, suppose you are always 10-15 minutes late. You want to have dinner at 7 pm with friends, whether you are planning to meet them at the restaurant or carpool, it doesn't matter. If you are the planner, take that hungry time of 7 pm and add a buffer to it. Do not fudge and say something like "7-ish". What does that even mean? Commit to a time, be there at that time (or slightly beforehand), or forfeit your right to make dinner plans. Don't punish other people because you are too disorganized or plagued by constant bad luck which makes you late.

In short, I value punctuality in others. I know there is no one as punctual as I am, and I'm becoming resigned to the fact that I will never have a friend who cares about the fact that it causes me severe annoyance and anxiety to be late or pressed for time. It is a sad, sad world when I find myself feeling like it is Christmas morning when someone is actually on time. Planning effectively is not a superpower. Anyone can do it, though no one I ever know ever will. This brings me to my second most prominent virtue: patience.

These two virtues often conflict. I am very patient when it comes to some things: restaurant mishaps, my dog's whining, slow traffic, slow people, crazytown, etc. I *cannot*, however, deal with tardiness. I may don a veneer of cool indifference at your lateness, but inside my organs are quickly poaching in my boiling blood, and in the back of my mind I am considering 1. all of the various terrible curses I would cast upon you if I had one of those Harry Potter magic wands, or 2. if I set your house on fire while you slept, whether you'd wake up in time to get out, or 3. the street value of your first born's kidneys.

My general malaise is only exacerbated by the fact that tardy people trigger this cognitive dissonance, i.e., the inconsistency of these two virtues I exemplify. I cannot be a nonhypocritical servant of punctuality and also be patient in matters of timeliness. I may be a bastard, but you made me this way.

Pittsburgh

Long time, no see

Since my last post I fractured my radius skating. Now when I see a half-pipe, I have PTSD. Professional skating is not in the cards for me, it seems. My new backup plan is to save up my money this year and if I don't find a job, then I will move to Tbilisi and live for a year basically doing nothing except studying Georgian and writing philosophy. I'll scout for possible there jobs when I return in May of '09, but I'd be content just to hang out for the year.

Other news...

Nothing. Lewisburg is a place where nothing happens except arm breaking. I'm now nearly fully recovered, and now I'll have to find something else to do. In November I'll be in Pittsburgh for a conference. Matt will be there as will other grad school buddies. I'm looking forward to that. I have mixed emotions about Pittsburgh, however. Primanti Bros. with their pastrami, coleslaw, and french fry sammiches are calling me, but Pittsburgh represents some of my biggest failures in living up to the expectations I set for myself. So, going there will be a bitter-sweet hiatus from this place where nothing happens.

The Final Countdown

Tonight I requested (like 5 minutes ago) that the cover artist at my favorite Lewisburg play Europe's 80's hit (and Gob's theme song) "The Final Countdown." Hearing this in a little cafe, synths blazing, is pretty awesome and pretty surreal. What is this place?

3 Noteworthy things today

Today I witnessed a couple noteworthy things:

Chiropractics seems to be the Lewisburg industry. There are tons of these places.

One of my colleagues can unhinge his jaw. He has nearly a flip-top head like a Pez dispenser.

The "Fully Loaded" Campbell's Turkey Pot Pie stew is bad for my belly.

Georgia Conflict

I've stayed pretty tight-lipped about the *ongoing* Russian aggression in Georgia. There's enough on the news and other blogs without me simply repeating what other sources report.

I am providing a link here to a website that gives the necessary information for making a contribution to the victims of the conflict. You can double check the legitimacy of the site by googling the title of the article and you'll see that the report is not fraudulent. The wire has been posted on several news sources including Reuters. So I ask that you consider making a contribution to this fund.

Click here.

or

Click here

What Lewisburg Lacks

Here are a couple things you'd be hard pressed to find in Lewisburg if you suddenly decided to move here:

1. Mattresses

For some reason there is no store in this town that sells the barest of sleeping essentials. I use 'essential' loosely since I currently sleep on the floor on a blanket and I have not owned a bed in well over a year.

2. Bedding

Ok, so may be it is logical. You don't sell mattresses, so why would you tease us by selling mattress accoutrements? There are lots of home knick knack stores here, but no place that sells sheets. I was told to go to Wal Mart. No thank you. Something tells me that I won't find 400-600 thread count Egyptian cotton top sheets, pillow cases, and fitted sheets there.

3. Recycling

There's no recycling program here. It is incredibly inconvenient to recycle here and you have to haul recyclables yourself, with the exception of one day (yet to be determined) when a truck will come around and pick up your stuff.

4. AT&T coverage

I'm no AT&T customer, but a friend visited who is one. He got no more than 2 bars on his iPhone. I had hoped to leave Verizon for greener pastures and purchase an iPhone, but it looks like I'll be sticking with Verizon for a while longer (excellent coverage up here, Verizon).

5. Mail

Why won't the mail man pick up my mail? My electricity will soon be cut off if he doesn't pick up my agreement with the electric company.

This is not an exhaustive list of things that Lewisburg lacks, but these are the things that surprised me.

It isn't all bad, however. People are polite, meter maids are vigilant, and the weather is great. The town is cute.

My new favorite song and music video.

I want to live in this video.

More Basty

sleepy buddy

Babushka buddy

There's nothing in my trunk

For the past month and a half my life has basically consisted of waking up at noon, watching the food network, and playing Grand Theft Auto 4. It is not exactly what I'd call a meaningful existence, though my GTA 4 sniper skills have improved markedly. The high points of my time in Florida have been finishing a paper that will be published in early 2009, seeing Saw III (and, by implication, Bahar Soomekh in a mind-blowing role which smashed my face). For the last two nights Sebastian has awakened me roughly every two hours to take him out. Not fun. Oddly, beginning the night after he spent the day at the vet/groomer, he began suffering from a particularly annoying intestinal ailment.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. On Thursday I head up to Saratoga Springs, NY to reunite with friends and teach for 3 weeks.

Recent thought: the coolness of the resurgent knitting craze and roller derby is lost on me.

Dear White Bulldog

Like a fighting bull from Hell, you came barreling out of your garage towards Sebastian and me on our evening walk. Probably because you noticed that my meat would be acrid and metallic, you went for the sweet meat of Sebastian. You got a couple good bites in, but your fate was sealed when later I returned to the house to make sure you were OK and your shots were up to date. Your master, who refused to have a civilized conversation with me, was combative and no less aggressive than you (though he didn't bite my leg). For his obstinacy, you can expect a visit from Animal Control tomorrow who will inevitably write your bulldog of a master a $50 ticket for violating the county leash law. I hope you are prepared to produce shot records as well. By the way, it'd be to your interest if you have had no prior convictions because after the third complaint, you go big nappy time. You mess with the bull, you get the horns; you mess with Basty, you get a world of hurt (or at least a $50 ticket).

The Virtues of Brother Hood

Because I think it probably goes unnoticed too often, I feel compelled to acknowledge the generosity and good nature of my brother, Josh. Without him, I could not have made my trip to the Netherlands because of my parental obligations; however, he agreed to watch my canine companion, Sebastian. Once I returned to the US, he let me take up residence in his apartment for over a month. When I had to go to PA for a job interview, he did not hesitate to take care of Sebastian on short notice. He does the dishes after every meal and is very considerate; for example, once I had the television on and I noticed him unplugging the Xbox to take it to his room. when I asked him what he was doing, he mentioned that he saw that I was watching television (though actually I was just surfing the internet) and did not want to disturb my apparent television-watching. How considerate is that?! For those who don't know, my brother and I had a rough patch that lasted basically from his birth until very recently. I don't think we were that fond of each other for a long time. Little did I know that there was a great guy lurking there. He probably thinks of me as an inconvenience because of my constant needing for him to help with Sebastian, but I think he's a pretty great guy.

The Latest Greatest Thing

Today I officially submitted the dissertation and printed out EIGHT copies of the 205 page document. Matt was kind enough to donate some of his print quota to the cause, and IU mistakenly gave me a summer print allotment, all of which I used. That's 1640 pages. And guess what, after spending nearly and hour printing out all this, I found out that it was all wasted. Earlier in the day when I was formatting the document for submission and making minor revisions, I had to delete the bibliography because Endnote is the worst program in the world and lets you basically do nothing to your document without screwing it up in some way or another. In a feat of virtual jerry-rigging I got everything set, or so I thought. Little did I know that Word, under the influence of the nefarious Endnote program, overwrote my section preferences so that the pagination was totally screwed up. I didn't notice this until after all the printing was done (who would have thought to check that, of all things?) and I had HAND COLLATED 3/4 of the dissertation 5 times (also took about 45 minutes, which was wasted). So I had to go back and fix the document and resubmit it to the Graduate School online. Tomorrow I have to print out a fixed copy and pay to have it copied 7 times since my print quota is gone and Matt can't afford to spare 200 pages. I'll also have to find a way to reimburse Matt for the 430 wasted pages (because I feel terrible about it) of his print quota. I also fear that IU will charge me for their mistake in giving me a summer print allotment when I'm graduating in the Spring.

Of course, I would not have had to print out all these copies if the bindery accepted electronic copies of the dissertation; however, when I called and asked if they'd accept pdf's, the lady responded "I'm not familiar with that technology, and we don't do any copy services." First, what idiot who is in the printing business or has ever seen a computer is NOT familiar with pdf format? Second, why hasn't the only bindery in a college town caught on to what is not even that recent of technology, especially in the age where dissertations are submitted online in pdf format? I'm amazed that there is not another bindery in town that can do this. I have a headache.

And don't even get me started on the hassle that my move to Lewisburg, PA is causing me. It never ends. But I guess I knew that there'd be some bullshit that would come up here at the very end that would complicate everything.

More

Hours behind schedule, the car is finally tinted, cleaned, and ready to drive away, though first the dealer, Jamar (unrelated to my property management company in Bloomington by the same name), had to show me how to operate this technological terror.

The dealer and I. Navigation tutorial. A Ph.D. leaves one yet ill-equipped to figure out how to use the supremely complex navigation device.


Testing out the Bose sound system with a little t.A.T.u. (200 Po Vstrechnoi).
Turns out that the dealership screwed up and accidentally gave me a free technology package (navigation, voice operation, 6-disc changer, back-up camera) and fog lights.

And the meal I cooked the other night: dijon super lump crab cakes and jumbo French escargot on baguette with gruyere and garlic infused butter. There's some asparagus there too.

My new car

Yesterday I bought this.

Me Ar Mivdivar Sakartveloshi

Well, regretfully, plans to go to Georgia in May have fallen through. Tyson and I hope to go in August instead, but I don't know what my schedule will be like in August yet. Sucks.

Derivative Bands

My top 5 list of great derivative bands:

1. Placebo

One part Pixies, a dash of Nirvana (also a Pixies derivative)*, 1/8 part The Cure, 1/8 part The Smashing Pumpkins, 1/4 part watered down Nine Inch Nails.

2. Muse

1 part Pixies, 1/2 part Queen, 1/8 part Radiohead, 1/8 part Placebo, 1/8 part Kyuss/Queens of the Stone Age

3. Colder

Equal parts Joy Division, Bauhaus, 1/4 part Sisters of Mercy

4. The Faint

Homogeneous mixture of 80's synth pop and 70's punk.

5. Fischerspooner

1 part Franky Goes to Hollywood, 1/2 part The Cure, 1/4 part New Order


*Early Placebo should be mixed using 1/2 part Nirvana.

Smells like America

At 5:40 yesterday I arrived in Houston, TX after an 11-hour flight from Amsterdam. I slept for the first 7 hours, which made for a more a tolerable flight. I can't imaging sitting awake in one of those 1st class seats for 11 hours +1 hour on the ground as the plane was de-iced, drinking champagne and nibbling on garlic toasts with escargot. Even further out of the realm of my limited imagination is spending that time cramped in an economy seat, which is where I was located. But neverthless I passed most of the flight in comfortable sleep.

When I awoke, pleasantly surprised at how long I had been asleep, I watched an awful movie called "August Rush." Being an obsessed Keri Russell (of Felicity fame) fan, I was very excited to see this featured among the in-flight entertainment. Keri starred as professional cellist who quit making music after being told that she lost her unborn child when she was struck by a car. There was also an inane romance story in there somewhere too. The child was raised in an orphanage (custody having been handed over to the state by her oppressive father who thought that a child would hamper her career as a concert cellist). At age 11 he realizes his gift for music when he runs away to New York and lives with homeless musician-kids and Robin Williams ("the Wizard") in a condemned theater. Robin sees the boy messing around with a guitar one morning in the theater and pimps him out as a street musican in Lincoln (?) Square. The boy thinks that by creating music is he calling to his long lost parents to find him. One day the boy sneaks into a church, beckoned by the voices of the choir. The vagrant boy one day messes around on the church organ, composes (on paper) a piece of the organ after a 6 year old girl in the choir gives him a 5 minute explanation of where notes fit on a staff. He is spotted by a minster who gets him into Julliard where he composes a lame piece that is featured on the same program where his mother (Keri) is performing as a soloist (her first performance in 11 years). Leaving aside particular qualms about the choreography of Keri's cello playing (her vibrato is wide and uneven enough to make an audience of sailors seasick), I found this movie to be an exercise in cinematic idiocy and fodder for the public's romantic and uninformed conception of prodigiousness. For example, no child, no matter how talented, becomes a guitar/organ virtuouso in less than a week. This is made even more absurd by the fact that in his 11 years and 5 months in an orphanage he never once touched an instrument. This fact nothwithstanding, he manages to learn how to conduct a full symphony orchestra, after a week of music theory classes at Julliard and no, as far as what was depicted in the movie, courses in conducting (as if a week of conducting lessons would teach him what he needed to know to direct an orchestra). And where was child services this whole time? One man from child services (the child's only true friend from the orphanage) was searching the city of new york asking people individually if they had seen the child. I guess the people at Julliard were too overwhelmed by the boy's talent to give thought to the legal ramifications of not turning the boy over to social services. But in the end, the boy's music did bring him together with his parents. The boy's father (also an ex-musician who spent the last 11+ years in mourning after losing touch with Keri when her father forbade her from contacting him after their one night of love) happened to be driving by the park where both Keri and the boy were performing, and saw a banner advertising her performance and got out of the car and to the concert just in time to see the finale, the boy's composition. Remarkably, the boy recognized his parents, who somehow found each other in the crowd, from the stage as he stood there receiving applause. Oh, I failed to mention, that it was Robin's late-night harmonica playing that had originally brought Keri and the father together for their one-night stand.

Thesis statement: Barf.

Those who might feel the urge to watch this movie would do better to watch Amadeus and Oliver Twist simultaneously. If you really have an itch for Robin Williams, may be get out the laptop and put Mrs. Doubtfire on as well.

America smells different than Holland.

Mickey, hold a place for me!

We all know that the most magical place in the world is Georgia, a nice little country about the size of South Carolina between Russia, Turkey, and Armenia. But did you know the second most magical place in the world is Disney World? I didn't think you did. Right now summer plans include a trip to Georgia with my good friend Tyson "six-shooter" Sadleir. However, recent events might have led us to change our plans. Ne'er ones to sacrifice the magic, secondary plans include a trip to Disney World. I'm sure I will barf all over Tyson's shoes on Space Mountain, but that's part of the magic. Now don't get me wrong, I really do want to go to Georgia, but it seems I've recently become a marked man there. How seriously to take this, I don't know. But who am I to go somewhere where I'm not wanted? But Mickey always has a place for me. I think in Epcot where that walk-o-countries is, there is a little Georgia. I'm not sure, but I heard it is located somewhere behind Little Russia. I'll have to check this out. When you think about the magic to money ratio, there might actually be a better value in Disney. I mean, I can drive there from my mother's place in Florida and possibly stay with friends in the area. I had sushi for the first time when I was staying in Kissimmee the last time I went to Disney. Wow was that magical, even if I didn't get to go to Medieval Times. So, Mickey, get ready. I'm stocking up on cheese and rat poison, just in case we don't go to Georgia.

Pallid

Today I noticed that I'm looking especially pasty. I think it is a good look for me. I'm not sure of the cause. Perhaps it is hamburger deficiency (because of the cost, I consume very little meat here). May be it is the verbal threats I got over email and mobile text messages from a Georgian man I've never met. It could also be the soul-sucking experience that is speaking with the acerbic receptionist/witch at the housing office.

I put the finishing touches on Ch. 5 and formatted Ch. 4. Dissertation clocks in at 173 pages not including 14 pages of references. I never want to write one of these things again.

Chatty Kathy

Today I gave a well-received talk in the Department of Methodology and Statistics here at Tilburg University. The talk concerned whether psychometrics is a pathological science. I argued that it is not, despite the claims of Joel Michell. Nevertheless, Michell's critique is important and even if I do not agree with the letter of his criticism, I agree with the spirit. It is important work that should be read by those interested in psychological measurement.

The Q&A session was great. People got very excited (and by 'excited' I mean visibly unnerved) by what I had to say. At least they were interested. Most of the criticisms from the audience were not directed at me, but at the critique I was challenging. If I did a good job, then at least one of them will take a look at Michell's articles.

I'm up to my neck in grant proposals, job applications, and chapter 5 of the dissertation. I'm not sleeping much these days which has afforded me plenty of time to do mindless activities such as format the dissertation, write the acknowledgements, and figure out what, exactly, I have to do in order to graduate in May.

Another pic from the past: The face of psychological measurement

Holland: where with the change you find in your couch, you could feed an American family

I had a recent call to post more often. I know I've been a bit lax in that regard recently. There's a reason for this: nothing happens here. I think that the exchange rate for Tilburger seconds is analogous (and converse) to the current USD-Euro exchange rate. One second anywhere else is equal to 1.519 phenomenological seconds in Tilburg. This makes for long days. Only here do I dread the weekends, for I know that I'll do nothing but sit around my apartment watching Dutch television and compulsively refreshing facebook. I love Sunday nights because it means that the weekend is nearly over. Weeknights are boring too, but they usually follow productive days, which makes for less boredom and self-loathing.

Yesterday I went to Amsterdam to work. It was productive. I sent a paper off to be considered for publication and tinkered with the dissertation. Working is much more pleasant there, as I've probably remarked in previous posts. There was a plan to go out and then stay the night there, but the plan fell through. Nevertheless, it was a good day. I've decided that I'm going to go up to Amsterdam more often to work (perhaps twice a week).

Today I finished a proposal for a postdoc here (to start Sept. 1) and I preordered the new Murder by Death CD. On the productivity scale (0-10, with 10 being most productive), I'd give it a 5. I'd rate the typical day in Amsterdam an 8 (on average, with a large SD).

All words and no pic make Reader a dull boy. So here, circa late 1998, in my college-friend Audra's dorm room, am I. Yes, my ears used to be pierced in a strange way. This was because my father told me that if I ever got my ears pierced and potential employers saw the scars on my earlobes, they'd never hire me. My solution: get the piercing where no readily visible scar would be left.

Willis Gaumarjos!

Wonderful news today. Our very own Six-shooter, aka "Willi" aka "Big Shota" aka "Tyson Sadleir," recently got news that he has been accepted to no fewer than 2 graduate programs to study slavic linguistics. This is a big win for Willi since it means that he will not have to become a fireman, where his fluency in Russian would not be likely to help him succeed. American fires do not respond to Russian expletives.

To read more about Big Shota, you can go here. This man is a man's man, and I should know. I've hiked the Greater Causasus mountains with him, I've seen him resist assult from a very angry Ukrainian girl, I've seen him charm the pants off many a gogona in Tbilisi, and no American can put away khinkali meat pockets like this man, even if the khinkali did eventually win. Tyson, if I had anything to drink around, I'd propose a toast to you, chemo megobaro!

Pictures

Ok, I know I've been boring you all with post after post of nothing but text. To make up for it, I am posting a plethora of pictures taken today.

I don't know what this is. Some white thing extending into a pond on campus. May be a bike ramp?
Washed out photo of yours truly.
This is the other side of the pond with the bike ramp.
I don't know who this guy is. Mr. Tilburg, I presume. This little square is where all the bars and cafes are. Unfortunately it is about 30 minutes away from where I live (on foot).
This is the building where I live. Unfortunately, it is about 30 minutes away from Mr. Tilburg (on foot). My room is on the second floor, on the right side of the building on the corner (with blue window trim).
Some strange courtyard on campus (approximately 34 minutes from Mr. Tilburg (on foot)).
Near the pond with the bike ramp.
A happy couple.

Please weigh in

Suppose I have a theory (or model) T which makes an assumption A (A is necessary for T). Is a test of T a (indirect) test of A as well? That is, does confirmation of T entail confirmation of A?

Suppose T makes several assumptions, A, B, C, D. Now suppose we test T. Is that test a test of A, B, C, and D? Also, does confirmation of T spread equally over the set {A,B,C,D}, assuming that confirmation of T is also confirmation of its logical consequences?

The main worry is whether a test of a theory is a test of all its parts, the parts necessary for making a prediction.

This is quick, but I'm just heading out the door. Intuitions please.

Sichyashun

A sichyashun has arosen. Actually, I've known about it for some time, but now it seems that I must do something about it. I become officially illegal in about 5 weeks. Problem: I'm not slated to come back home for another 10 weeks or so. If I stay, then I'll be slapped with a lofty fine and possibly banned from all Schengen countries (most of the EU, including the Netherlands). There's no way to extend a tourist visa and it is too late (and would have been too expensive) to get a residency permit. This wouldn't be so bad were I not applying for a postdoc over here and if I did not have so many research contacts over here. Moreover, I have grand plans of visiting other Schengen countries with Tyson in the coming summers. It seems I have a couple options:

1. Leave early. This is the most reasonable option as it does not run the risk of fines and problems with coming back. The cost of changing my ticket is likely to be expensive.

2. Stick it out. This runs the aforementioned risks. One way of possibly getting around it is to report my passport as stolen and get a replacement. Then there is no record of my date of entry. Technically this is fraud, and so I'm not inclined to do it.

So, yeah. Sucks. However, it does mean that I get to see basty sooner than expected and I won't have to pay my brother as much for watching him. It also means that I can tie up some loose ends in Bloomington post haste.

Amused

A night of youtubing obsessing over Placebo's Brian Molko and Muse.

I don't know who I want to be more: Brian Molko or Christian Bale.

Anyway, I'm having a bit of an intense fixation on the band Muse. iTunes was just awarded 5 bucks of my hard earned cash for giving me the following amazing tracks:

1. Hysteria
2. New Born
3. Bliss
4. Time is Running Out
5. Knights of Cydonia.

I recommend checking out these videos on youtube. Matt, I don't recommend you check them out since you're sure to hate them. However, I'm posting the video for Knights of Cydonia since it is so freaking awesome. Matt, I recommend muting the music and playing some Johnny Cash since I'm sure you'll like the video even if you hate the song.

Tomorrow I head up to Amsterdam to work for the day. No news. Tilburg sucks. Boring weekend, though I did go to a nice party on Thursday and got to meet some new people including Alex, an Estonian Mastersuperstar. That is his new name as far as I'm concerned.

Office pictures finally

Below are pictures of my office, which I share with my flatmate, Carlo Martini (yes, that's his real name, pretty cool). I've included pictures of the wonderful coffee machine. So far, that machine is my best friend here. We have a great relationship. Today I sampled 4 of the many coffee/chocolate concoctions he so ably whips up and the push of a button. Very yummy.

I feel much better today, so I hope to go out this weekend and make friends.

Other news: I received an email from a test design company offering me $100/hour to be a freelance test consultant. Nice. Unfortunately, I have so much on my plate right now that I really need not to take on another obligation, not until the dissertation is completed.

Picture delay

Today I had intended to post some pictures of the office and such. Well, in a my sickened condition this morning, I was just barely conscious enough to realize where I was, so I forgot to take my camera to work. Yes, that's right. I'm sick AGAIN. This time it hit me around 5 pm on Saturday. I was walking back from town and noticed my arms starting to hurt (alot). When I got into the apartment, my health began spiralling downward. By 10 pm I was aching all over and had the shakes. A moderate cough was developing. I ended up sleeping in a sweater, sweatpants, and socks to combat the chills. Mind you, I had felt completely fine the day before and for the past 3 weeks (since the last time I was sick). Yesterday, I mostly stayed in bed and drank water and tolerated congestion. Today I woke up (actually, I woke up throughout the night) and I couldn't talk without aggrivating the itch in my throat (bringing on a coughing fit). Nevertheless, our little trooper stuck in there and went to the departmental lunch thinking about the terrible evil to which he was exposing his colleagues. Other symptoms include shortwindedness probably attributable to fluid in my lungs (e.g., walking and (then) talking are out of the question), lightheadedness (though no nausea), gray skies, and malais. However, the chills I had the first night are gone and the body aches are not as intense as they were on Saturday. The combination of a tender, runny nose and Dutch bathroom tissue as made for an unpleasant condition as well. It is odd how I typically get sick once per year (including colds), if that; then I come here and I get severely struck down twice in a month.

Tilburg

Below are a few photos I took of my room and Tilburg. Looking out my window you can see the building where my office is. It is a 2 minute walk. Very nice. They have free coffee in there, but I'll save all that until the next blog when I post pictures of my office, the coffee machine, and the building. I have a roommate named "Carlo" from Italy. He is a first year Ph.D. student. Good kid. Today we walked around the city together. I bought a phone finally, which I hope I can sell when I leave to help cover the cost of the phone. I got the cheapest on in stock and it was 49 euros. Pricy. I'd take a picture of it, but it is not that exciting. Speaking of pictures, sorry about the unrotated picture of the church below. I don't know how to rotate. I did it within my camera, but when I uploaded it, it just gave me the unrotated version. Ok, gotta go check on the sausages. More soon.







It seems that everything in Tilburg is blue and gray. I kind of like that. And with few exceptions, most buildings look new and interesting architecturally.

One Pizza Later

About 36 hours until I leave for Tilburg. At first I was worried that by moving to a sleepy little university town in the south, that I'd become bored and disappointed with it in relation to Amsterdam. However, after being in Amsterdam for 3 weeks and finding myself with little time other than on the weekends to do stuff (during which time I am usually bored), I'm no longer worried about that. In fact, I am sure that in many ways it will be an improvement. There'll be lots of other philosophers around and the department seems pretty lively. Also, I've already started making contacts with psychometricians there, so I'll have two possible social ponds to swim in. By request I've included a map of the Netherlands to show ya'll where Tilburg is.Matt, you'll notice the proximity to Belgium. You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm going to try to find some people with whom to explore breweries. I don't think you'd want to go anyway. All the monks are ID proponents, I think.

News: I've lost 6 pounds since getting here.

News

As Matt has noted, my recent deluge of posts has slowed to a trickle. There are various reasons for this though one of them is not that I have nothing to report. On Friday I move to Tilburg where I will reside for 3 months. Tomorrow I must vacate my flat and move across town (closer to work) because my lease at this place ends, but I cannot occupy my place in Tilburg until Friday. A professor in the department here was gracious enough to let me crash at his place for the 3 nights. I'll miss this apartment, the neighborhood, and the few people that have shared the building with me over the past 3 weeks.

Other news: today I found out that a paper of mine has been accepted for publication at a peer-reviewed journal. The reviewers, all of whom thought the paper was interesting and well-written, have called for some revisions that I think will be a bit time consuming. But if I just reserve it for weekend work, it should only take about a month to get through the revisions. Reviewer #1 was quite long-winded and I think he actually hated the letter of the paper, even if he liked its spirit. If he is correct in his complaints, then there are some major booboos that may make for a considerable overhaul. Then there is the logistical problem of finding the sources again. The main paper I discuss in my own paper is a whopping 90 pages long and I don't think that I brought it with me. It is also not available online.

In any case, when I get it done, that'll be 2 forthcoming publications that I got under my belt while I was here. Then there's the nascent paper currently in development. If that gets done and is favorably received, that'll be 3. My advisor is pushing me to publish something is a squarely philosophical journal (the other journals are psychology and measurement journals). I have something I can send out as soon as I get his comments. If *that* works out too, then we'll be at 4. If I can't get a job with 2-4 publications, then I give up. Back to McDonald's or Subway for me.

No pictures for this post, unfortunately.

Reckless Indulgence

The plastic bag crinkles like white noise as I unfold the clear polymer bag. 8 small chocolate nuggets sit inert, each more curious than the last, for I know that I will be days before I experience the one that remains after all others have been consumed. My gaze fixes on those nearest to me, and I carefully contemplate my selection. None so obviously bears its character, so my decision is but arbitrary. I suspect that jasmine tea sits closest to me, so I with great care and purpose bypass it searching for serendipity, an arbitrary surprising pleasure that will take great care to discern. I also see what I perhaps erroneously infer to be olive and I dig a bit deeper into the bag, noisily complaining, as I search for an unfamiliar morsel. And my choice is made. As I carefully ingest its smell, I can detect only cocoa. An awaiting surprise indeed. The crystalline formations on its crown I recall being salt, but all is an enigma. The first bite. Wow. The salt a perfect compliment to the bitterness of the dark chocolate. A creamy filling resides inside and, honestly, I make neither heads nor tails of what I taste. With disappointment in my ability to identify the overwhelming flavor, I describe it as neither here nor there. It is so subtle as to evade analysis, despite my efforts to cleanse my palate and ready myself for this encounter. Desperate to lift the fog of disorientation, I lift the chocolate to my mouth and take the remainder in hopes that full sensorial inundation will remedy my sorry state. Again, the salt pleasantly resounds on my tongue, but I still cannot make out what I am tasting. Frantically I rub my tongue over the roof of my mouth before the flavor fades, and as it flees existence I'm left unenlightened. My pleasure is empty. Moments of bliss, ephemeral and base. Awash in regret, I contemplate indulging once again.

There's no rain

I've come to realize that clear days are a celebratory occasion here in Amsterdam. Therefore, I have chosen to celebrate today as the first clear day in over a week. In observance of "first clear day in over a week" I have procured several delightful goodies. On the way home I had the quinessential Dutch snack, the Haring Broodje. It is a sandwich with raw herring and onions. There are places all over town that sell these yummy yums. Bones are left intact, but they are small and easily consumed. At 3.50 euros, they are a bit pricey, however. Without bread (just raw fish and onions) it is 3.00 euros. Unfortunately the sandwich is not pictured. It is in a warm dark place right now. I also picked up a mini baguette to go with dinner tonight, 2 celebratory Jupiler beers (which I now realize I've been calling 'Jupiter' since my first visit last March). Last, but not least, I picked up some chocolates from the legendary "Unlimited Delicious" chocoshop. I'll write more about them once I've tasted them, but the flavors include hot-chocolate and pepper, olive, jasmine tea, espresso, rosemary, ginger, among others. 100 grams for 5 euros. I'm sure it is worth it considering they gave me a taste of the hot-chocolate pepper and it was divine. Tomorrow's forecast: rain.