Tagged with ahrc

The Past

So; remember this?

It's not that bad!

Turns out I almost broke my knee over the summer. I was a few degrees off snapping the bone, but I managed to bounce at the right point and ended up with a very long recuperation period. I’ve got a bunch of physio exercises that I need to do every day, which take somewhere around an hour.

The unexpected part of it – for me – was that I kept thinking I was going to be completely recovered the next day/week/month, and it’s only been recently that I’ve had to accept that I’m going to be having a weird-feeling knee for the conceivable future. And what’s brought that on is the cold season, because it turns out my recuperated knee is a ‘weathervane’ (as one of my friends put it) in that it reacts pretty dang well to a change in the temperature.

So; remember this?

At this point (five days in?), some strange radiating hatred for the written word fills my body and I no longer wish to type, or be part of civilisation. Let’s descend into stygian depths and hit things with bone cudgels made from the thighs of our ancestors rather than pretend that todays academia is based on a modern-day version of Confuscian ideals.

Well, I got my funding from the AHRC and that meant that I could go back to university. I’m studying the Digital Media Mres at Newcastle Universities Culture Lab. This is a huge change for me, and it means I’ve got a really burstingly busy year.

So far, my own assesment of my integration with academia would be ‘not great’. Having been as self-reliant as possible for the past few years, the fact that there is now a big organisation in town I can tap for help is something I have yet to adjust to. Moreover, as my first deadline looms, I’ve yet to adjust to the idea of no longer being a free agent and actually having to, y’know, do stuff.

(Some of this attitude I blame on my previous alma mater, which was not very testing in an academic sense, but it’s also got to be said that this is the first course where I don’t just grok the material straight off. Which is interesting, but actually having to do work is something I’m not accustomed to.)

And so, between the studying and the exercising, I find myself slowly becoming a busy person, where parts of my day are filled up. I can no longer sit and ponder the day away as I used to, but instead I have to plug away at projects which require a static, final end product, and I’m adjusting. Slowly.

Next time I get the chance to write an entry, I’ll tell you how those adjustments are working out in a practical sense. Or, if you are interested, you can jump over to my new, professional, website, at http://unnamedlaboratory.org/

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500 for the AHRC

At this point (five days in?), some strange radiating hatred for the written word fills my body and I no longer wish to type, or be part of civilisation. Let’s descend into stygian depths and hit things with bone cudgels made from the thighs of our ancestors rather than pretend that todays academia is based on a modern-day version of Confuscian ideals.

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Internet Funnies: Or; Please Smile Through this Period of Change

I like the internet. Currently, it would be fair to say that I like the internet more than the work I’m supposed to be doing. Which, by the way, is an annoying piece of text to say that I’m the best person in the world to give AHRC funding to. I mentioned to my mother that I was writing the application, and that I wished they could just look me up in the big database of excellent people, and she emailed me back

… there’s something wrong with the database. When asked to sort on the excellence indicator, the database somehow does not come up with H’s. It must be written in Microsoft Access.

That’s right; my mum makes database jokes. That makes her 100% cooler than your mum. However, she’s not as cool as Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, who taught himself to speak after a terrible illness. And he wrote this, after some poor schmuck got fired for posting up a Dilbert strip at his work. Which is a great way to reward his faithful readers, even if the guy in question might have preferred some cash.

Thank god the internet isn’t just a balls-to-the-wall whose-the-coolest competition. I’d lose. In these days of constant distraction it seems the internet is usually best at meme creation, which leads me Colin’s Bear:

Colin’s Bear is something that is so far from the norm that you have to laugh. And then click the button for ‘replay’. But wtf is going on? Waxy.org’s founder went and found out for us, so we didn’t have to. Phew. Other places to find internet memes are sites like ytmnd.com, which I’ve stopped looking at, Digg.com which I only look at when I’m trying to avoid doing work, and the amazing icanhascheezburger.com.

Strictly speaking, icanhascheezburger only documents the lolcat phenomenon of late 2007/early 2008. Lolcats are something you should get if I regard you as a friend, but I do know at least two extremely intelligent people who are not moved by them. I don’t hold it against them, it’s probably something like colourblindness. But with cats. Let’s test you, huh?

Funny Pictures

Did you laugh? If you find the use of incorrect spelling funny when juxtaposed with the unusual picture of a cat, then you might be interested in this picture, which is a more typical picture of a ‘lolcat’ -

funny pictures

The use of language to present itself as something a bit stupid, but actually using sophisticated humour, can be extended indefinitely. There exist a large number of lolcat spin-off’s, including lolpresident, the deeply nerdy lolthulhu, and loltrek. Loltrek is great, and it really tickles my funnybone to see original series Star Trek anyway, so this is a highlight of internet humour for me. Loltrek also links to Anil Dash’s scholarly interpretation of the lolcat meme, which brings us back to where we came in – academia.

So let’s talk Trek instead. Some people like to accuse me of being a ‘trekkie’, which is to say, a huge fan of Star Trek. Actually, I’m a huge sci-fi fan, and I don’t like reading books unless it has a spaceship on the front. Or nanotechnology. Or giant robots. Hell, I’d read a book which just had those things on the front, even if it was a romance. But I do know the plotlines to most of the Star Trek episodes from the 1990′s, as they were some of the only science fiction that was on during the daytime. And I do love science fiction.

I don’t, however, love Star Trek’s stupid ideas of peace and love in the future. I recently read that The Next Generation was pretty much California in space, as everybody got on really well and was totally fine with talking out any problems. Obviously a big fat load of hairy space bollocks dreamed up by Americans befuddled by enormous sections of food. Which is why I was so happy to find that somebody had dubbed over sections of Star Trek California really, really carefully with the effect of turning the crew into potty-mouthed, food-obsessed sex-fiends.

At the moment, I don’t have any TV. The flatmate who had the television addiction (Eastenders, Hollyoaks, and other mindless rot) moved out, taking her cable subscription with her. We then found out that the ariel socket in the living room is not connected to an ariel, it’s just a hole in the wall. So, as a household, we just stopped watching television, which is not a great loss as the BBC seems to be devoted to only making one good serial per year, which function at a level of lowest common denominator.

(Translation: the new Doctor Who show is facile crap. And Torchwood is utterly pointless – read the reviews.)

This has turned into a massive post, and I hope it’s managed to tickle your funnybone a bit. I didn’t have time to mention this picture, which I should have, or the song ‘Re: Your Brains“, but I’ll leave you with somebody who regularly posts up a computer game review. Check it out:

I’m off to watch his most recent effort at Escapist Magazine, even though I only play about four computer games a month. After that, I’m going to sneak back into bed and pretend that I just popped out to get another pillow, not write an enormous blogpost that rambled on for ages.

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