Fixing stuff, myself included…
Just Because
Just because I said I was re-designing this blog, doesn’t mean it will happen overnight. After all it’s Saturday, and my main objective for today is (can you hear the drum roll?) writing the discussion section of the thesis. It will probably be only about 5 pages, but as I now know this will only be the first draft. You’ve got to start somewhere!
Why are you up at this ungodly hour?
Probably so I can get totally frustrated by blogger not letting me post this morning. **#^* so there, I’ll just write it in notepad… ha! It’s possible I’m signing myself up for way too much; I hope not.
Such as?
Well, besides my bright idea of re-designing here, finishing the damn thesis, trying to lose the same ten pounds I lost and gained last year, I’ve signed on to a group blog: BlogSisters.
Maybe you need therapy.
I think I need another cup of coffee, and an ergodynamic chair to roll around on. Before I can get rolling though, I’ll have to pickup all the statistics books and piles of reference papers on the floor surrounding my porcelain top kitchen table which serves as my desk. I can hear the birds starting to chirp, which means it must be about 5 AM, which also means I’ve been blogging and cruising around since 2 AM. Perhaps I do need therapy.
What kind of therapy do you prefer?
Do you remember the movie Harvey? Dr. Chumley, Elwood P. Dwod’s psychiatrist says all I want is 2 weeks in Akron Ohio, under a tree, with Harvey stroking my brow and saying, “poor, poor thing”. Harvey is a pooka; a giant invisible rabbit that only Dwod and then Chumley can see. Does this sound like an ideal vacation or what?
I think it’s more of an or what.
What if I don’t agree with you? What does it mean when we say the next generation? How many years go by between generations? Ten, twenty? I’m just wondering if there’s a rule here? If I’m old enough to be your sister, we’re in the same generation, unless of course I’m your much older or much younger sister. If I’m old enough to be your mother then I’m one generation removed. If I’m old enough to be your grandmother then I’m two generations removed. Does that make sense?
If we knew what we were doing, it wouldn’t be called research, would it?
— Albert Einstein