Weekend Affective Disorder (WAD) aka Life in Storrs
In order to pay proper homage to my two years living on campus in the graduate dorms at UConn, I’ve dusted off a few excerpts from my long-retired My [_____] blog (the site formerly known as Myspace).
W.A.D. = Weekend Affective Disorder (October 14, 2006)
My current residence. A dorm room.
Current creature comforts like KEXP streaming, red wine, comforter, crossword puzzles, and dreams of the future.
Otherwise, I’m stuck. The weekends here in B.F. (bum-fuck) Connecticut are long. Distractions are few. Work is plenty. Though I pace myself. I hear people all around. I haven’t said a word for hours, days. This is how people get fat. Yet I’m losing weight. Becoming slight. My pants don’t fit. Its getting colder each day. I need a warm coat and boots.
I miss things that make me feel human like eating food made for two vs. 2,000; watching movies in bed; talking with people who know me; sleeping at normal hours for normal amounts of time; dance parties; city streets; people over 22 years old; bookstores and cafes; walking with somewhere to go; good coffee; live music and art.
Living in the dorms made me just a little coo coo.
Storrs itself is a corner.
The Second. Numero 2. (January 7, 2007)
I’m in it, deep this time.
Taking four classes. Co-authoring a paper with my major advisor about undergraduate teachers-in-training cognitive complexity in relation to their descriptions of a “Good Teacher”. I’m also creating an affective scale to measure the impact of perceived stress on a person’s openess to experience. I will be piloting the instrument this semester. [For those of you with any research experience at all, you know constructing, validating, and refining an instrument usually takes about three years. Needless to say, my professor is a MadWoman!]
UCONN remains cold. I spend my nonclass/nonresearch/nonworking time doing crossword puzzles, knitting, listening to music, and hanging out with my one UCONN friend.
In the early spring of 2007, I fell madly in love with statistics. Well, it was an arranged marriage, but I made the best of it.
Eigen, Cronbach, and Me (April 3, 2007)
I met Eigen awhile back. He likes to think he’s all greater than one. [Actually, he is.] Yet, something about him leaves me unfulfilled. [I know, I’m a complete tramp. Or an opportunist, depending on your politic.] Enter Cronbach. Cronbach has substance. Not only that, he constantly strives for perfection, the allusive 1.0. I admire this about him. And frankly, if he ever reaches .80 I’ll be completely satisfied. [Don’t tell him that though, he needs to work for it.]
Mostly I read, wrote, and thought a hell of a lot.
Kinda like now, but in an even smaller space surrounded by thousands of post-adolescent maniacs (more on them in the next post).
TO BE CONTINUED (or altered)