bending_sickle | Every now and then say, "What the fuck."* (Reply)

"What the fuck" gives you freedom. Freedom brings opportunity. Opportunity makes your future. *

I feel like I've been leaving this LJ a bit on the side - not that I'm absolutely loaded with activities. In light of this (and because I feel like writing and am also avoiding work like the plague), have some summaries:

I talk about my work.

As often happens when one returns from field work, there is a report to write. I have to write an article (decided it's going to be geared for African Journal of Ecology about my research. This week, I've been working on Excel, entering and rearranging data into as many groups as I can think of. Most of the calcuations so far are of prey densities and Jacobs' Index (which determines whether a predator hunts a certain species preferentially, considering that prey's density). It's all rather boring and eye-gouging work, but at least I've got lots of tables. Possibly too many tables, and the "Look! I did lots of work!" feeling is quickly beign replaced with "Oh gods, what am I going to do with all this?" Next week, I'm going to give statistics a go, trying to find out what test to use to compare different data sets. Fun times ahead, my pretties.

What this means is that I've got the basic groundwork done for three out of the six data groups I'm going to play with. This is a pretty good thing. I'm just a hop, stats test and a skip away from being ahlf done with the analysis. (Well, I say half, but one half may be bigger than the other, like a lopsided cake - it looks equal from a bird's eye view, but you just know someone's getting the bigger piece.

The computer program analysis bit still scares the shit out of me, but one thing at a time. I'm purposelly doing the easy bit now, because hell, you gotta start somewhere, and I'd rather have a solid body of work done before head!desking myself to death.

I talk about my mother...

I spoke with mom yesterday, at her request. Though we talked for over an hour, it wasn't one of those rare enjoyable conversations. Freud would have a riot with my mom: projection, projection, projection.

One topic she hit on with force was the "my not having a job" topic. Eventually she agreed that of course if I'm writing the report and working on it 24/7 (or more like 8/5, but you get the picture) then a job isn't absolutely necessary. But hey, when I'm near finished, it should be time to get CVs and interviews and stuff. (I missed out onthe Science Fair job-hunting thing my university had this spring, what with being in Kenya and all.) At least we agree.

But she also went on in broad general terms of lack of money and how other (better) children have jobs and study and don't bleed their parents dry. At it seems to be alright for my mother to hound me for not beign the ideal daughter she's conjured up in her head, whilst I can't complain about her not beign the ideal mother (or hell, just more motherly) that I've got in my head. Like, it's ok to say what other kids are doing, (good kids, better kids, perfect kids) but not to juxtaspose that with what other (nicer, more supportive) parents are doing.

So naturally she breaks into tears and moans about my tone of voice and how maybe she'll just cut me off from her life and never speak to me ever again and buh-bye finances and we'll see how you manage then.

Nice.

Apparently this still hurts the umpteenth time it's said.

Glaringly, she still hasn't asked me how it went with Rob, when we went on holiday together. She's just pissed I didn't call her often to say I was ok. Didn't even ask if I was having a good time. Think she's trying to pretend nothing happened, and I don't even know how to set her straight without throwing myself at the bayonets.

...and my plans for the summer. (Ooh! Rhyme!)

Anyway, she's come up with the brilliant plan, seeing as I have no plans for this summer apart from "Work my ass of on the report", that I fly on over to Canada.

There are various reasons for this:

1) It's going to be her birthday and she would like me there.
2) I'm going to be happily employed come Christmas and so won't be able to fly over.
3) My dad's position in Canada is still in limbo. He had been listed as one of the guys who was being transferred, but is staying there for now. We don't know how long "for now" will be.
4) The weather's nice!

This will be the last ticket she buys me (as opposed to the one last Christmas, which was supposed to be the last one).

I'm going to try my damnest to go to Montreal and hug the bejeesus out of Kit-kat. I explained to mom that I'll never ever be closer than that again. I mean, without holding up a crystal ball to my future, I can't say, but odds are high that I won't be around Canada for a good long while. (Granted, my brother's still somewhat close - and so will I, if I go visit - but for how long?)

So if you're in Canada, prepare to be hugged somewhere between July 25 and August 16.

I talk about my boyfriend.

It's been near a month since I left - 25 days to be exact. You'd think with the scores of people I've left behind through the years, and the lesser numbers of people I still in keep in touch with, that I'd be better at this long-distance thing, or this missing things. Well, guess what? It's always bloody hard. I mean, there's people I haven't set eyes on in years who I still miss like mad. (Muffin, I'm looking at you.)

But the current plan of action is emails every night. Well, I email every night, thanks to the wonders of internet and electricity being available to me whenever I want. (More often than not, however, the emails are written in the wee hours and are thus somewhat incoherent and rambley, but that's me in a nutshell.)

We haven't talked on the phone yet, mainly because we can't find each other on Skype and I'm loathe to use my parent's money on their Voipcheap account to call. (Apparently, Kenya's not on their list of free countries, which sucketh. Pointless complaint, as cell phones are never free calls.)

Mainly we just talk about our respective days, throwing in a dash of "Gods I miss you". We haven't talked seriously about where this is going, or where it's going to go, or where we're trying to steer the damn ship so's it'll go that way (mainly because we have no idea and it's scary as all shit). I mean, I'm shiny with holding onto this indefinately, but I want to know what I'm holding on for. Oh, hell, I know what we want to hold on to (and hoo boy, am I doing an about-face on some grown-up things**) but between what we'd like and how we're going to get it, there's this big-ass grey area.

Yeah, yeah, planning is a bit hellish now. I'm months away from graduating with no idea as to where I'm going to work, and what kind of job that'll be. So my actual geographic location for the end of the year is a bit Schrodingerish. Finances are also in limbo, so plane tickets are out. And Rob can't exactly buy a plane ticket to where I am anytime soon, either.

But thinking even further ahead is even scarier. How and where do we get together? What should we do to get the ball rolling in the direction we want it? *handflail* I just don't know guys. All I know is that we work.

Money can't buy you love, but it can buy a ticket to your loved one.

I talk about random shite.

It's finally hot in Holland. I've gone on long bike rides twice this week, ending up somewhere half-way to the coast in a town called Rijnsberg. I want to try and go to Noordwijk, or maybe Katwijk, this weekend, 'cause getting out of the house is good for you. Been going to the gym, too, but the outside world is nicer.

Been catching up on Heroes, TSCC, Ashes to Ashes and Dollhouse, depending on what I can get my hands on. Lately, though, I've been on a Dollhouse run. I'm on 1x05 and loving it! Seems like a pretty challenging and enjoyable gig as an actor, playing all those different personalities but at the same time slowly creating one.

The ~~Fan~~Mix project I've been working on is all done, except for the actual music. I will remedy soon.

amboseli's still not happening, but I swears! Soon!

Willemijn's coming to visit on Monday. This is the definition of awesome.

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