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Many Merry Winter-Solstice-Related Festivities to all, and a Happy New Year! How was everybody's vacations?
I just got back from a AAS conference, for which I spent most of winter break that was not occupied by family visits preparing. I'm struggling to remember everything that happened last week because I was going to talks, poster sessions, career workshops, etc for 10-12 hours a day, every day. It was cool, though. Got to meet and greet a lot of senior astrophysicists, some of them pretty big names in their fields, and got to touch base with some old teachers and advisers. One of them offered me a job, but I'm at least 2 years from graduating with my PhD, so I couldn't take it. But I'm flattered somebody thinks I'm employable in my discipline. YAY!
And now for another installment of Bad Luck Brianne moments.
See also journal title.
I think I'm gonna make my apartment complex switch me to another room. Last week I tried to turn on the heat in the living room and the Freon reservoir in my bedroom HVAC unit exploded, filling my apartment with Freon. Keep in mind this is the same HVAC unit that 1) has only 3 settings - icebox, off, and broken, 2) is cross-wired with the kitchen unit so my room's thermostat controls the kitchen and vice-versa and nobody's been able to fix it in the 2.5 years I've lived here, 3) has a pump that buzzes loudly for about 15 seconds every couple of hours and makes a whistling inhaling noise for a few hours at a time every few days (and neither sound is in any way mitigated by turning the unit off), and 4) has a tank for the dehumidifier that overflows or clogs with algae almost as regularly as it breaks. The guys who came to fix it this time around left dirty hand prints all over my walls and clumps of dirt on my floor. It looks like they might've tried to get the vacuum out but the bottom fell out of the dust trap so they left it to me. Took my whole body weight to reattach it, by which point I had to vacuum the vacuum cleaner before I could move it.
I just got back from a AAS conference, for which I spent most of winter break that was not occupied by family visits preparing. I'm struggling to remember everything that happened last week because I was going to talks, poster sessions, career workshops, etc for 10-12 hours a day, every day. It was cool, though. Got to meet and greet a lot of senior astrophysicists, some of them pretty big names in their fields, and got to touch base with some old teachers and advisers. One of them offered me a job, but I'm at least 2 years from graduating with my PhD, so I couldn't take it. But I'm flattered somebody thinks I'm employable in my discipline. YAY!
And now for another installment of Bad Luck Brianne moments.
See also journal title.I think I'm gonna make my apartment complex switch me to another room. Last week I tried to turn on the heat in the living room and the Freon reservoir in my bedroom HVAC unit exploded, filling my apartment with Freon. Keep in mind this is the same HVAC unit that 1) has only 3 settings - icebox, off, and broken, 2) is cross-wired with the kitchen unit so my room's thermostat controls the kitchen and vice-versa and nobody's been able to fix it in the 2.5 years I've lived here, 3) has a pump that buzzes loudly for about 15 seconds every couple of hours and makes a whistling inhaling noise for a few hours at a time every few days (and neither sound is in any way mitigated by turning the unit off), and 4) has a tank for the dehumidifier that overflows or clogs with algae almost as regularly as it breaks. The guys who came to fix it this time around left dirty hand prints all over my walls and clumps of dirt on my floor. It looks like they might've tried to get the vacuum out but the bottom fell out of the dust trap so they left it to me. Took my whole body weight to reattach it, by which point I had to vacuum the vacuum cleaner before I could move it.
American Chopper Meme but with Psychosomatic BS
Body: You've stressed yourself sick. Stay home and rest. Mind: No, you're trying to play hooky. Body: No really. You're exhausted, hurt everywhere, and you'll probably have a mental breakdown if you see anyone. Mind: We've been through this. You have an anxiety disorder. You're making shit up to get out of dealing with normal stressors. You've cried wolf so many times everyone else stopped believing you like 5 years before I did. Shut up and do your job. Body: Oh look, a new symptom you've never experienced in any of your previous episodes. Mind: What are you doing...? Body: Oh man, this is really bad. You should really stop what you're doing and get this checked out. Mind: OH GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Body: It looks chronic~🎶 Mind: Are you fucking kidding me? This is 10x worse than anything I'm facing at work right now, stop it! Body: It could be autoimmune~🎶 Mind: ASADSFDGYLJH FINE! I'll go to the doctor. But this better be good. *Cue doctor appointments, blood tests, etc.* Mind: YOU
Series Update
Not that anyone really cares, but after laying fallow for upwards of 2 years and with no real long term plan for its entire existence until now, I finally have updates to announce on my original series. 1) It has a name now: Quadrupole Moments (it's an excessively nerdy pun on https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quadrupole but everything else I thought of was too edgelord-tier). The name comes from the fact that the threads will typically revolve around the interactions between 3 consistent species, and a 4th one that varies. The 3 consistent species will be humans, a half-finished genetically engineered species derived from humans and other Earth creatures that mostly lives on a moon around the HD 28185b, and an 8-limbed upside-down-Y-shaped species whose name is best transcribed as Gikhnur. The 4th pole may variously be 2 competing sides of one of the above races with the other 2 races caught between them, or another entity or race entirely (e.g. the engineered species' creator, or the
First fully-remembered dream in a while...
Just a writing exercise... WARNING: ending is NSFW It starts, as many dreams do, in a school. It's also apparently a nursing home because I remember guiding my late Grandmommy into an unnervingly spartan white windowless bedroom on the interior wall of a U-shaped corridor elsewhere lined with lockers. It's like an over-sized broom closet. After putting Grandmommy to bed, I take the black, white, and bubblegum-pink stairwell to the much more inviting library/art display room. Everything is stained shades of camel and tan, flimsy oaken shelves full of objets d'art form a network of cozy cubicles, and the biggest shelf behind me is full of clear jelly cups with stems of flowers jutting out. It's there I meet the AAS non-academic career counselor, who here takes the role of spiritual counselor and herbal-remedy-peddler that I find much less impressive than in real life. She and I debate the merits of her practice and her projected fortunes for me, but eventually she issues a challenge to
Dear Zombie Accounts
Do you spend all day faving and chucking llamas at random artists? Does your activity history have an unexplained 6-, 8-, even 10-year gap? Does your homepage prominently feature a .sexy##.pw or .sexy##.ru hyperlink despite your listed location being in another hemisphere? Is your featured journal an ad promising to introduce viewers to sexy young girls whose additional descriptors make them sound suspiciously underage? Then try GitBent, the free zombie account removal system powered by the DA moderating team and my bottomless petty rancor! Give a llama, get the ban-hammer! I don't always report spam and phishing accounts, but when I do I have a 100% success rate at getting them removed. Wannacry? Me too! Zombies account for almost half the faves on some of my deviations. Save yourself the risk and me the disappointment. Make yourself useful. Fertilize some flowers.
© 2016 - 2024 AsterHyakinthou
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