There is seriously something wrong with the ISP here. This compose page is taking, again, hours to come up, and Vox claims nothing is wrong on its end.
Again, when a compose screen takes hours to emerge, then the inspiration has long passed. For what it’s worth, enjoy these shots of Christchurch from last week.
Inside the Isaac Theatre:
I really shouldn't be taking a break from paper-writing to post this (deadline is at midnight, 4 hours from now), but I need a break from all that history.
My problem with professors isn't a problem at all, not in the usual sense of the word. I just am prone to falling a little in love with them, the way they speak, the idea of them. I enjoy being in class, listening to them, watching them, paying attention to their habits, cheesy senses of humor, and other personal characteristics. They are human beings after all, not an advanced species or anything, contrary to what I might like to believe.
I think they live/are lost in their minds most of the time, but like the rest of us, they wake up in the morning and have coffee, choose their clothes, and come to the university. I wonder what car they drive, how they feel about coming to school every single day, and how it feels to have been in classrooms for decades of their lives. I am usually quite fond of my professors, especially the older, male ones (but also the older females, not so much the middle-aged women, case by case though).
My comparative literature professor in Paris last year is one example, his lectures on literary theory and criticism were probably some of the best hours I spent in Paris. Other students found him to be wordy and boring, but they just didn't get it. His explanations really changed the way I view art and literature. His class turned me to study further in comparative literature, and I will be forever thankful for that (as I am considering graduate studies in comparative literature). Likewise, my linguistics professor last year was an awesome lady, and helped me to understand and fall further in love with language. She lectured about how to view words objectively and human expression comparatively.
To the point! I am sort of in love with my current International Studies professor. He looks like a stereotypical professor, wears glasses, suits, and sweater vests, lectures to large groups, has a slight accent, but speaks well and softly. I am reminded of him tonight because he is actually cited by the authors of my research sources! He has been doing this stuff for a long time.
Folks, I have a theory.
After asking on Twitter, and using two different ISPs in two different cities, and trialling different browsers, I have found that in New Zealand, I (and one other Twitter friend) cannot reach our Autocade site without the browser coming up with an error asking one to save the page.
However, using a US proxy server, there is no problem, and the page functions normally. It actually opens.
I suspect something is afoot with ISPs in New Zealand blocking certain sites. Can friends reading this confirm this with me, please? The site is autocade.net.
I remember last month there was quite a bit of furore on Twitter when TelstraClear customers could not reach justinflitter.com (since closed). Again, I had no problem accessing Justin’s site via a proxy server. I simply could not reach it from New Zealand, even though Justin is a New Zealander.
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Not for me. For my sister-in-law who just adopted a wee one a few weeks ago. They're out visiting from Michigan so her mom is throwing her a shower. I've been in charge of the games and I'm picking up cake and balloons.
Caleb is adorable. It makes me excited to think that in just 7 more months we'll have a new wee one of our own. It also scares the hell outta me...the 24/7 attention that they need. Where in the hell will I find 24 hours a day? I barely have an hour now to take a shower and pee in the morning and then I'm going till I pass out on the couch. It's all pretty overwhelming but I'm enjoying the little dude and then will develop a plan once all the chaos of having family in town brings is over.
Speaking of showers...I actually came home from work, took a long shower, picked out clothes (rather than fumbled in the dark for them), and did my make up and jewelry. It has been MONTHS since I've worn jewelry. I need to spend more time on myself but how? Again, where does this mysterious extra time come from?
Sigh.
I could use a snack and a nap. This getting pretty thing is rough. LOL
I have a small spider on my computer screen and he is pouncing on my arrow.
I cut my long fingernails for piano practice today, my tutor was pleased. I have big hands, a wide handspan, and it's always been something of an insecurity. But now I can put my long fingers to use! *empowerment* I can spread my fingers across an entire octave comfortably. Today I finally got to practice scales and songs on a real piano... it was so wonderful!
My fingers hurt a bit right now but I wouldn't go home until I mastered Mary had a Little Lamb. It sounds so much better, richer, with two hands! I was so excited when I finally got the notes and hand positioning down. Then I kept practicing the C major scale with both hands, forward and backward, going up and back down the keys. It was a little tricky but now I feel like I have a little bit of muscle memory of a few simple things.
Now I really have to focus on my research paper...
Went to New York to see Teh Kid.
Pre-booked, pre-paid, shuttle.
Arriving at dawn, I grabbed a latte, and got onto the shuttle at 7:30 am at JFK.
Should have known it was a bad idea when we sat for twenty minutes and my fellow sufferers started counting the air fresheners.
Like the young forest of them (15!!) on the rear view mirror.
And a couple hanging on every seatbelt holder.
And another forest in the back with the luggage.
And little clusters under the seats.
We had plenty of time, and kept finding them.
I had the only passenger seat with a window that would open, which may explain why the ensuing migraine was not fatal.
The driver then proceeded to circle airport to try to fill his van, returning to Terminal 5 THREE times.
Because when you are in a stuffy, chemical-filled, crowded van driving fast in circles improves everything.
He then left the airport, running two stop signs and one red light before I stopped keeping track.
He managed to drop off two different sets of people more than a block from their addresses ("Because the street is one-way.")
I got to my hotel at 10:30.
That's three hours later.
The hotel (HOTEL AZURE, folks), bless them, put me in a room right away.
Probably they were afraid I'd pass out or puke in the lobby, both possibilities.
But that is only the trip in.
Coming home, to get on my 9am flight they gave me a 5:45am pick-up.
Kay.
So I got up at 5am, in the dark, had coffee, hugged kid who also got up and came down in the elevator with me.
So I was standing on sidewalk outside of dorm at 5:40.
You know, early, in the dark.
Because I am just that anal about being on time.
I got to watch the men's shelter up the block open its doors.
And see the bagels arrive for the shop next door.
And watch the film crews fiddle with their trailers ("Another Guy" with Mia Farrow, according to my new BEST FRIEND, the security desk guy.)
No shuttle.
So at 6am, I call them.
It's a mile away, they tell me.
Kay.
The sun is coming up, that's nice.
The security guy checks that I am okay for the second time.
This is nice, since this is daughter's dorm.
He has a cigarette outside and we bond.
At 6:20 I call again.
The van is four miles away, I am told.
Then I am put on hold.
They play juggle the call for a while, and I get another guy.
And again am put on hold.
He then tells me THE VAN IS ON ITS WAY TO THE AIRPORT.
They have no other van.
Sucks to be me.
Shuttle person on phone claims they came by and I wasn't there.
Security guy, my new best chum, points out that when that really happens, the van drivers come and talk to him.
Shuttle guy also says van driver called me repeatedly.
Well, the cell number they have is Teh Kid's number and is up in her room with her.
Well, she was just awake, and it is a small room.
We both woke up when Tom called.
I can haz skeptical about call, considering the previous Driver Fib concerning my absence.
Hmmmm.
Shuttle guy has nothing to suggest.
I do not write down call information number he offers, since I have a phone in one hand, no pen out, and am digging for my card to get cab fare from the lobby ATM.
He says I will get an email in a couple of days.
I have emailed them
I have heard nothing.
It has been a couple of days.
Hmmmmmm
Am now trying to figure out how to pry my pre-payment out of them.
I am suspecting Firengi First Law of Acquisition applies here.
I did get a swell New York taxi driver, and made my flight, though not by a whole lot.
The taxi ride involved no suspense, no waiting around on the curb, and no scenic tour of city.
Just zip off to the airport.
I could have slept another hour and caught a cab.
I know what I am doing next time.
