Last Night, or, Why I Almost Punted My Childhood Pet

Background: My parents are in Virginia visiting family, leaving me in charge of the house and the dogs-- Penny, my 13 year old, nervous, paranoid, arthritic childhood pet and Koli, a 3 year old dog-puppy (read like "man-child"). I work at a before and after school program for K-5th graders which requires me to be up at 5:30 in the morning.

Scene:

10:30pm. I've just cleaned up after a friend left. Pretty late for me, but we had a good time and I knew I could power through the next day (which was all day daycare because the kids didn't have school-- 9 hours) with 6 1/2 hours of sleep and coffee in the morning. I took the dogs upstairs and gated them in with me in my bedroom because I think it will have a calming effect on me and hopefully the dogs will sleep as long as I do instead of getting up early to bark until they're let out.

11:30pm. In bed, done reading, lights off, instantly asleep.

4am. Penny wakes me by grunting, whining, and pawing at the side of the bed. I think she's just anxious about being in a different room so pull her onto the bed to sleep with me. At which point I realize she's shaking. Penny shakes when it thunderstorms, weird people show up, there's construction going on, or, you know, because a leaf blows near her. Then I hear a distant beep. Beeping, oh boy beeping is a big deal. Penny's hot, smelly, stress breath immediately blasts my face and her nose shoves my cheek.

4:10am. I grab the second floor fire alarm and bring it into bed, hoping a low battery is the cause of the sporadic beeping.

4:16am. A distant beep again summons Penny's quaking form to the head of the bed and pulls me into the cold to investigate.

4:19am. I find the first floor fire alarm and take it upstairs, cuddling it in bed, knowing surely this is the cause of the beeping.

4:25am. It's not. Penny practically rolls me out of bed with her urgent nosing, that and the potency of her panting.

4:28am. I find the carbon monoxide detector, which starts beeping every 30 seconds, happily notifying me that it needs new batteries. I haul it to the kitchen to give it new life, after which it chirps proudly. I hear a crash upstairs and a cascade of dog steps coming down the stairs and barreling to the safety of the downstairs. After staring at the detector to make sure that it was beeping to say thank you and not to say RUN! GET OUT OF YOUR HOUSE NOW!, I walk to return the detector to its home and discover that Penny's pooped.

4:35am. I finish cleaning up the poop and turn to find that Koli's peed. At least the cleaning supplies are in hand.

4:40am. Finally, I crawl back into bed with Koli, leaving Penny downstairs hoping she'll calm down and sleep down there.

4:45am. Penny wanders into my room and starts to grunt and paw at my bed again. I resolve to ignore her in an attempt to make her sleep on the floor and leave me alone.

4:55am. Resolve gives way to my need for sleep, so I roll over to pick her up onto the bed. My sweatpant-covered hip hits air and is suddenly cold. Why? BECAUSE PENNY PEED ON MY BED.

5:05am. I've stripped my bed, layered my parents' bed with blankets and settled down to sleep for the next 25 minutes. Penny begins to paw at the bed and whine. I ignore her.

5:25am. Penny stops whining and settles down to sleep.

5:30am. My alarm goes off.

No amount of coffee can fix that.



Koli, atop my ridiculously comfy bed (usually it's not buried in clothes... ah, who am I kidding, it is).


Penny, my worried, in your face, stink breath puppy. This is basically what I saw when in bed most of the night last night.

PRESENTATIONS AND EXAMS BLAAARGH!

Right so I feel the need to post something. So I'm posting to tell you that I'm really friggin busy! On the bright side and in happier news: I won a prize at the post-graduate conference! (I'll refrain from telling you my adviser was one of the judges... wait a minute... oops) In any case, here's a pretty picture of my poster:

JUST KIDDING! Computer's not letting me. Well. Too bad for you; it's a sick poster.

Aaaaanyway, I'm working on formulating a post about Dawkin's statement about civil arresting the Pope. Haven't heard anything on it in months, so this post will be pretty old news, but hey. I'm doing this for my enjoyment, not to be current!

Hope everyone's well!

edit: look I figured it out!

oooooooo, aaaaaaaaaaaah

Race for Life

So in my recent endeavor to better-ify myself, I've agreed to run a 5K in Durham called Race for Life. It's a charity in the UK which raises money to invest in research and treatment for cancer. 4 reasons why I'm doing this:

1) I needs me some exercise!
2) Some absolutely lovely friends are doing it as well
3) Anything having to do with charity is a worthwhile endeavor
4) We all know someone who has been directly affected by cancer, and because of that, we all know how horrible it is and should work towards any goal which lowers the number of people affected by cancer.

My grandmother had breast cancer years ago. Actually, so long ago that either I didn't completely understand what was happening or my parents were so good at remaining calm that it didn't seem like a big deal. Looking back, though, they must have been really very worried. I do remember the first time I talked to my grandmother on the phone after she had gotten the all-clear. She had had lumps removed from her breasts and was given a special bra to sort of fill in the holes. She said to me, laughing, "Oh Collie, you should see the bra they gave me! It's the funniest thing I've ever seen!". Not much gets Grammie down, and after all that, she was able to laugh about the state of her bra. It's to honor Grammie that I'm going to run.

In any case, if you want to join me in the run, let me know, and if you'd like to sponsor me with whatever you can, I would really appreciate it. My donation website is: www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/colleenhale.

Even better, if you want to do something, you can find a local charity or event to participate in, or volunteer for. Helping others is the best possible way to spend time. Truly.

An Anthropological Look at the (Mis)Use of Scripture

Bored yesterday while visiting friends actually doing work in the library, I decided to thumb through the various anthorpological journals. I wound up reading an article by Matthew Engelke titled "Reading and Time: Two approaches to the Materiality of Scripture" published in Ethnos. In it, Engelke looks at two different Christian approaches to reading the Bible (and how it relates to their concept of time, but I'm not going to focus on that). He compares the practices of the Friday Masowe apostolic Christians in Zimbabwe to Saint Augustine's writings. As you would expect with a comparative essay, the two differ widely in their use of scripture, Augustine finding all meaning in the Bible, while the apostolic Christians in Zimbabwe actively discouraging the reading of the Bible. As completely different as these two beliefs are, both make perfect sense to me. And in the end, I'm left with the disappointing cop-out that for me, there is a middle ground that is best, and is also informed by both ends of the spectrum.

Saint Augustine wrote that Christians could come to know and understand God by reading the Bible. He believed that by reading the Bible one could become closer to God through Jesus and that reading it is an integral part of developing and maintaining faith. Notably, Augustine did not believe in reading the Bible literally, but saw it as having two layers of meaning, the second layer needing to be decoded by the reader. He believed Christians should be critically engaged with their religion, and one way of doing that was through reading the Bible. Reading scripture is not the end objective, however,like I said earlier, but to use scripture to build and shore-up a relationship with God and Jesus. Saint Augustine, you're a Christian I can get behind!

And now, for something completely different:

The Apostolic Christians in Zimbabwe believe that the Bible is only a material item which does not reveal immaterial truths. Their emphasis is placed on the Holy Spirit and its ability to directly convey the Word of God to believers. They think that true believers do not need the Bible because they live by the guidance of the Holy Spirit. This rejection of the Bible could be linked to the forceful imposition of literacy on Africa during colonialism. "The introduction of literacy set the groundwork, from the missionary point of view, for progress on a number of inextricably interconnected social, economic, and religious fronts", literacy then becoming a method not just to share religion, but to enforce new social and economic ideals. "They manipulated the message of the Bible to support their own agendas and ideals. As one church elder put it, 'we learned that we could not trust the whites or their book.'" The Bible therefore became the key symbol of Christianity, as well as colonial power.

This would leave anyone with a bad taste in their mouth about the Bible, and I know many people will argue that the misuse of the Bible by colonial powers does not affect its message or the fact that these Christians should use it as part of their faith. Mmm, agreed, but their reasons for discarding the Bible don't end there. Above all, they see the Bible as an unnecessary mediation between themselves and God-- a historical document that does not hold insights into their modern, daily life. They don't need the Bible because they hear God's message in a more intimate, direct way. "You must not read it for the sake of yourself." A material item like the Bible is too static to convey something as personal as the Word of God. The material items wrapped up with religion (alters, robes, crucifixes, books) distract from and are barriers to faith.

And now I get religious:

Everyone gets wrapped up in materiality from time to time. The pretty shiny objects that attract our attention distract from other, more important things, especially when it comes to faith. There is something to be said for removing all material distractions and focusing solely on God's word. And, we've all seen people get so wrapped up in the Bible that they forget the modern environment and circumstances. You can't find God in a book and you can't find God in this material world. But, you can temper your reading of scripture with real-world experience. God's written word certainly gives food for thought, directives on how to live and be happy, as well as comfort in times of trial, but all of that is useless if you don't pull your head out of the book and go seek God in the world.

So I'm not sure if that makes total sense, and I know a lot of you couldn't care less about religious spirituality, but I hope you found the dichotomy interesting, and if you are religious, have something to meditate on.

Lit break

Ok I know I talked about Hemingway in an earlier post, but I found this, and it just illustrates my point about Hemingway's style capturing the progression of human thought. From The Sun Also Rises:

"At the end of the street I saw the cathedral and walked up toward it. The first time I ever saw it I thought the facade was ugly but I liked it now. I went inside. It was dim and dark and the pillars went high up, and there were people praying, and it smelt of incense, and there were some wonderful big windows. I knelt and started to pray and prayed for everybody I thought of, Brett and Mike and Bill and Robert Cohn and myself, and all the bull-fighters, separately for the ones I liked, and lumping all the rest, then I prayed for myself again, and while I was praying for myself I found I was getting sleepy, so I prayed that the bull-fights would be good, and that it would be a fine fiesta, and that we would get some fishing. I wondered if there was anything else I might pray for, and I thought I would like to have some money, so I prayed that I would make a lot of money, and then I started to think how I would make it, and thinking of making money reminded me of the count, and I started wondering about where he was, and regretting I hadn't seen him since that night in Montmartre, and about something funny Brett told me about him, and as all the time I was kneeling with my forehead on the wood in front of me, and was thinking of myself as praying, I was a little ashamed and regretted that I was such a rotten Catholic, but realized there was nothing I could do about it, at least for a while, and maybe never, but that anyway it was a grand religion, and I only wished I felt religious and maybe I would the next time; and then I was out in the hot sun on the steps of the cathedral, and the forefingers and the thumb of my right hand were still damp, and then I felt them dry in the sun. The sunlight was hot and hard, and I crossed over beside some buildings, and walked back along side-streets to the hotel."

I can't count the number of times my mind's wandered a similar route while praying.

In other, but related, news: I've decided I'm rewarding myself for completing this term by buying myself a couple Neil Gaimon novels. Unfortunately, I find myself daydreaming about which one I'll buy as opposed to actually working. I suppose better to wander off to the world of literature than something less savory...
Ooo, anyone have any suggestions on which Neil Gaimon novel would be best to buy?

Let these two weeks fly by so that I may escape from the world of science to the world of science fiction fantasy! At least for a tiny respite.

Women rule and men, well just aren't as cool

I'm writing a paper on altruistic behavior in humans. Here's a bit of an abstract from my favorite article:

"We examined people's charity contributions while in the presence of an observer of the same sex, opposite sex, or no observer... We hypothesized that men would be more generous in the presence of a potential mate... Our results show that men contribute more to charity when observed by a member of the opposite sex than by a member of the same sex or no observer. Conversely, female charity donations did not significantly vary across the three observer conditions. Findings support the notion that men's generosity might have evolved as a mating signal."

The article goes on to talk about men tipping more especially when on a date, donating to pan-handlers more often when the beggar was female or if they were walking with a female, and other such statistics. Whereas females donate equally across all circumstances. My male readers may try to argue that while women donate equally, they probably donate less and therefore men are more generous. To you I say, check out this graph from the study:



The study tells us that the two groups contributed the same amount of money overall ($119). The point here, of course, is that women donate indiscriminately while men donate more when observed by the opposite sex. This was a study done in a lab, so whether in real life men and women wind up donating the same amount to charities is unknown.

So men donate to show off and get a good mate while women donate because they're... good people. (yes I'm purposefully imposing moral judgments on these poor subjects, but it's certainly more entertaining to read the data my way than some lame "we're all equal" sort of way!)

Science I can get behind!


Article citation:
Iredale, W., Van Vugt, M. & Dunbar, R., 2008. Showing Off in Humans: Male Generosity as a Mating Signal. Evolutionary Psychology 6(3): 386-392.

How I know my fiance and I are going to make it: a vignette

Background: I like to joke that Andy's best friend Matt is his real soul mate. Something Andy doesn't particularly like me doing (in fact he hates it) but come on, they finish each other's sentences. Andy and I don't even do that! In any case, last night Andy was telling me about an episode of Star Trek he watched which was written by the same guy who was a writer on Battlestar. There were parallels between the way the two stories were written that Andy was really excited about which of course resulted in a brief conversation about said writer. Which is where we enter the scene.

Andy: "well anyway, I thought I'd just share my nerdy excitement with you"
Me: "have you told Matt yet?"
Andy: "no, not yet"
Me: "awww, you told me before you told Matt?!"
Andy: "yes, I like you better than Matt!"
Me: "ah, but do you love me more than Matt?"
Andy: (sigh) "yes, I love you more than I love Matt."
Me: (clapping hands like a 4 year old) "yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"
Andy: "I hate you."

FIN.



Matt and Andy winning a trivia night. Ain't they sweet, folks?!