new life
I'm doing fine. In fact, when I stop and think about it, I'm happy.
I've been learning a lot about network analysis and free speech law and economics. I have more time to write and draw. I read books or papers I'm not assigned sometimes.
One of my new friends who lives near me is an architecture PhD who is into Theory. Last night we had a long conversation over Trader Joe's scotch about the relationship between technology, creativity, and curiosity. He is an informed constructivist about the sciences and there's plenty to argue about.
There are also old friends; on Sunday I had my ass kicked in Go by Howard Prospect. The Sunday before I walked to the marina with another friend and everything seemed to make sense.
There is a departmental drinking event every Thursday. There is a coterie of Indian Masters students who are excited about open source software. Everyone wishes somebody would set up a Hack Day.
In my course on management, I took an awkward dead-space moment to go on a rant about Simone de Beauvoir. Multiple people came up to me during the break to ask me for the reference. That means I got away with it.
Old things that used to fascinate me from when I studied cognitive science are suddenly relevant again, and for a class project I'm getting to apply an algorithm I learned back then to social network data. This is apparently a hot thing to research. I think I've got a fallback, in case more intellectually ambitious stuff doesn't work out.
I went to a great free concert on Saturday. Among others, there was the guy who formerly lead the Drive-By Truckers and Otis Clay and Gillian Welch and Kris Kristofferson. I went with a near-stranger, a mathematician who goes by Sunshine. The weather was great and Sunshine was really good at having the confidence to walk through the big crowds and find the grassy spots close to the stage. I got so see San Francisco and Northern California people, who were familiar and unfamiliar. Some dedicated hippies, dirty white people with dreads, greeted us on the way over. One of them said, as we came up behind her,
"Oh, I thought you were those guys," referring to the other people she was with.
"Nope, different people," I explained.
"And the same people," she said.
"Yes, ok, also the same people."
I've started to see a therapist. She seems to specialize in listening sympathetically and asking insightful questions. She's got a background in mindfulness meditation and does lots of yoga. Unbidden, in our first meeting she used some of the same terminology I had been using in my internal monologues to describe the situation I was in. She laughs at funny stories. She is clinically distant but not off-puttingly so.
Occasionally I get anxious about the state of the world, about how little I understand about the field I am going into, how at risk of disaster everything seems to be in. And then I realize that my stress isn't accomplishing anything, that I'm not doing anything wrong, and that the best thing I can do is get some food and get back to my work, which I more or less enjoy all of.
I have this vague sense of presenting a personality, but mostly it's effortless. Who I am is well-suited to where I am, and there is nothing in particular for me to be ashamed of. Nobody has any particular expectations of me; at worst there are a few professors who seem to be actively curious about who I am. But for the most part there's nothing to judge me on but my actions, and nobody is watching particularly closely.
I'm happy. This is good.
I've been learning a lot about network analysis and free speech law and economics. I have more time to write and draw. I read books or papers I'm not assigned sometimes.
One of my new friends who lives near me is an architecture PhD who is into Theory. Last night we had a long conversation over Trader Joe's scotch about the relationship between technology, creativity, and curiosity. He is an informed constructivist about the sciences and there's plenty to argue about.
There are also old friends; on Sunday I had my ass kicked in Go by Howard Prospect. The Sunday before I walked to the marina with another friend and everything seemed to make sense.
There is a departmental drinking event every Thursday. There is a coterie of Indian Masters students who are excited about open source software. Everyone wishes somebody would set up a Hack Day.
In my course on management, I took an awkward dead-space moment to go on a rant about Simone de Beauvoir. Multiple people came up to me during the break to ask me for the reference. That means I got away with it.
Old things that used to fascinate me from when I studied cognitive science are suddenly relevant again, and for a class project I'm getting to apply an algorithm I learned back then to social network data. This is apparently a hot thing to research. I think I've got a fallback, in case more intellectually ambitious stuff doesn't work out.
I went to a great free concert on Saturday. Among others, there was the guy who formerly lead the Drive-By Truckers and Otis Clay and Gillian Welch and Kris Kristofferson. I went with a near-stranger, a mathematician who goes by Sunshine. The weather was great and Sunshine was really good at having the confidence to walk through the big crowds and find the grassy spots close to the stage. I got so see San Francisco and Northern California people, who were familiar and unfamiliar. Some dedicated hippies, dirty white people with dreads, greeted us on the way over. One of them said, as we came up behind her,
"Oh, I thought you were those guys," referring to the other people she was with.
"Nope, different people," I explained.
"And the same people," she said.
"Yes, ok, also the same people."
I've started to see a therapist. She seems to specialize in listening sympathetically and asking insightful questions. She's got a background in mindfulness meditation and does lots of yoga. Unbidden, in our first meeting she used some of the same terminology I had been using in my internal monologues to describe the situation I was in. She laughs at funny stories. She is clinically distant but not off-puttingly so.
Occasionally I get anxious about the state of the world, about how little I understand about the field I am going into, how at risk of disaster everything seems to be in. And then I realize that my stress isn't accomplishing anything, that I'm not doing anything wrong, and that the best thing I can do is get some food and get back to my work, which I more or less enjoy all of.
I have this vague sense of presenting a personality, but mostly it's effortless. Who I am is well-suited to where I am, and there is nothing in particular for me to be ashamed of. Nobody has any particular expectations of me; at worst there are a few professors who seem to be actively curious about who I am. But for the most part there's nothing to judge me on but my actions, and nobody is watching particularly closely.
I'm happy. This is good.