Something I learned today: one way to measure relative humidity is by using a hair hygrometer, an instrument that operates through the use of human hair. The hygrometer is super-accurate because hair's consistency changes up to 4% based on humidity. Isn't that crazy?!
Today, however, is not one of those days that my hair will change based on humidity. The temperature is currently 45 degrees F and the only thing my hair will be doing is freezing in place.
Happy last day of September! Love, Western New York.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Little Meg breaches the space-time continuum
I've been having these strange moments lately where I'll suddenly be transported back into childhood, and for a moment I'm confused about exactly where in time I am. Sometimes I'll glance up at myself in the mirrored closet doors in my room and see myself in sixth-grade form--face rounder, white-blond hair painfully taut and pulled back into that eternal ponytail. It's a little bit surreal, and slightly terrifying (as most things involving the middle school experience tend to be). Perhaps I've been reverting into the self-conscious, worrisome little person I was then, lately. Maybe?
I had another moment like that earlier this afternoon; I woke up from a nap around six o'clock and the dim light from the window reminded me of one afternoon when I was little . . . I had fallen asleep on a loveseat in the living room and woke up just as the sky became dark. My mom was making dinner in the kitchen and something about the faint light of the room, the smell and the sounds of utensils and drawers opening and closing just stuck with me. I always think it's strange which moments we remember most vividly--for me, it's hardly the ones in which something momentous or dramatic occurs, but little everyday things pieced together in this nonsensical way. When I opened my eyes this afternoon I was convinced that if I shuffled into the kitchen, eyes half-closed, my mom would be standing over the stove. If I looked into the mirror, I would be twelve years old.
I had another moment like that earlier this afternoon; I woke up from a nap around six o'clock and the dim light from the window reminded me of one afternoon when I was little . . . I had fallen asleep on a loveseat in the living room and woke up just as the sky became dark. My mom was making dinner in the kitchen and something about the faint light of the room, the smell and the sounds of utensils and drawers opening and closing just stuck with me. I always think it's strange which moments we remember most vividly--for me, it's hardly the ones in which something momentous or dramatic occurs, but little everyday things pieced together in this nonsensical way. When I opened my eyes this afternoon I was convinced that if I shuffled into the kitchen, eyes half-closed, my mom would be standing over the stove. If I looked into the mirror, I would be twelve years old.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Mule friends
I realized I never posted any pictures from Ireland, so here's one that always makes me smile:
On the long walk in Doolin that ended in the electric fence, Lauren and I came across four friendly mules that I now think about sometimes in the way you'd think about someone you had a chance encounter with. My musings are somewhat less varied and more predictable than they would be if the little dudes had been human: is it raining on them? Are they eating grass? Do they remember me?
I'd like to think that they do.
On the long walk in Doolin that ended in the electric fence, Lauren and I came across four friendly mules that I now think about sometimes in the way you'd think about someone you had a chance encounter with. My musings are somewhat less varied and more predictable than they would be if the little dudes had been human: is it raining on them? Are they eating grass? Do they remember me?
I'd like to think that they do.
Whining and kid-watching
I'm not sure how I feel about this year thus far. Although I am still only a junior, I find myself in this near-constant state of terror at the hands of a leering beast called Life After Undergrad. I haven't missed high school since I've been here, but all of a sudden I'm yearning for the four year safety net that college provides.
I guess this sense of being on the verge has permeated into other aspects of life; insecurity abounds and I feel like I don't have confidence in anything I'm doing. It's a feeling I'd like to shake. Sigh.
Despite my whining, there are things to love about being a junior and living off-campus. There is a Chinese take-out restaurant across the street called Main Moon, and the owners' children always play outside on the sidewalk. Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing work when I heard concurrent shouting and a car alarm. The kids, a girl about twelve and a boy about five, were taking turns running to an SUV parked on the street and hitting it to make the alarm go off. The car started shrieking, the children started shrieking, the car would stop and they would do it again. The game went on for about twenty minutes and I laughed every time. Admittedly, this wasn't the first time I watched the Main Moon kids play--I peek out the window whenever I hear them. Creepy? Probably, but it's one of my favorite parts of the day. That and the showering without shoes thing.
I guess this sense of being on the verge has permeated into other aspects of life; insecurity abounds and I feel like I don't have confidence in anything I'm doing. It's a feeling I'd like to shake. Sigh.
Despite my whining, there are things to love about being a junior and living off-campus. There is a Chinese take-out restaurant across the street called Main Moon, and the owners' children always play outside on the sidewalk. Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing work when I heard concurrent shouting and a car alarm. The kids, a girl about twelve and a boy about five, were taking turns running to an SUV parked on the street and hitting it to make the alarm go off. The car started shrieking, the children started shrieking, the car would stop and they would do it again. The game went on for about twenty minutes and I laughed every time. Admittedly, this wasn't the first time I watched the Main Moon kids play--I peek out the window whenever I hear them. Creepy? Probably, but it's one of my favorite parts of the day. That and the showering without shoes thing.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A dumb idea
I started looking at graduate school information online today. Why did I do that? It's not like growing up is real or anything.
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