Is this what it feels like to realize there is no god? I've read a number of articles lately about IQ and how it doesn't exist. This one today by Roger Highfield seals it. I'm done.
The thing is: My IQ score has been very strongly tied to my identity. In Grade 6, I was identified as gifted through one or three of these tests. I clearly remember being taken out of class to sit in a small supply closet with a desk to answer questions and fill in the scantron card. I had no idea what I was doing there. Nobody told me I was doing a test, nor could I prepare for it.
Sometime later, I was told that I was smart. Okay, cool. Shit, now I have to live up to being smart. But of course, I didn't figure out that I felt that way until later.
From that day forward, I was not living up to my potential.
From that perspective, it's pretty cool. I no longer have to live up to some scrantron IQ test's idea of what my potential might be. I get to be me. Whatever that may be. This may be what I should have felt all along, and it is one of the great things about being an adult, we really do have an opportunity to be ourselves, without the identifiers of childhood. As hard as that may be.
I do need to thank the IQ test before I totally write it off. The IQ test did help me along. I have this feeling I might be dumpster diving somewhere in Indonesia instead of struggling with a PhD thesis is someone hadn't labelled me as smart when I was 11 years old.
Look at me now. I can go dumpster diving in Indonesia after I finish my PhD, if I feel like it! Dr. Dumpster Diver! YES!!
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Fear of Giant Squids
Rod's mom gave us a membership to The Rooms for Christmas. Oddly, she gave us a senior couple membership. When I redeemed my card, the missus says "You're obviously not a senior." No, not quite yet. She then issued my sticky ticket. One must now wonder if a similar conversation is going to happen every time we go.
Today is one of those rare weather days for St. John's. Cold (-10 C) and sunny. Ottawa weather. The Rooms has a beautiful view of the harbour - blue skies, blue ocean, red rocks with a dusting of snow and colourful houses. It was a perfect morning to celebrate finishing a chapter in my thesis by sitting in the cafe, catching some rays, reading articles on my phone, and writing cryptic notes to myself.
The first time I went to The Rooms, a man at work asked me "Are ye goin to see the stuffed animals?". Like a teddy bear exhibit? That's weird. It wasn't til I got there that I realized that he meant taxidermy. So I will never again look at a stuffed caribou without thinking about teddy bears.
While I love all the beautiful exhibits (it really is a high class joint) and the expansive space (we all need to feel small sometimes) at The Rooms, there is one thing that always draws me back. The Giant Squid.
I hate it. I love it. It scares the bejesus out me. "That's a lot of calamari." says a more enlightened friend. I can almost smell formaldehyde just looking at it.
The first time I saw him* I felt the fear. In my throat, heart beating fast, and quickly walking to the much safer looking giant whale bone. Next time, I say to one of my visitors to St. John's "you gotta see this Giant Squid, it's disgusting", maybe to see if it scares them as much as me. Nope, just another dead animal. It may as well be a teddy bear to them.
But I keep going back to that exhibit. Like directly. Okay, after I eat. But then I am compelled to see the Giant Squid. Every Time.
I wonder why I am compelled. He's disgusting, sure. He's Giant, sure. He has tentacles that could pull me to god knows where, sure. There are other big and scary things in the ocean. On second thought, that might be part of it. I'm a mainlander, a land-lubber, and the North Atlantic is damn cold. I am, regardless, fascinated by this fear and even more fascinated that I keep wanting to go back, to know more, to understand. A very huge part of me hopes that this reaction to the fear is what will get me through my thesis. I want it to keep drawing me back even though writing it and putting myself out there scares the bejesus out of me.
Lately, a much more beautiful Giant Squid has come into the spotlight. I still find him scary yet compelling.
*don't ask me why I've decided to make these squids male. I don't know why.
Today is one of those rare weather days for St. John's. Cold (-10 C) and sunny. Ottawa weather. The Rooms has a beautiful view of the harbour - blue skies, blue ocean, red rocks with a dusting of snow and colourful houses. It was a perfect morning to celebrate finishing a chapter in my thesis by sitting in the cafe, catching some rays, reading articles on my phone, and writing cryptic notes to myself.
The first time I went to The Rooms, a man at work asked me "Are ye goin to see the stuffed animals?". Like a teddy bear exhibit? That's weird. It wasn't til I got there that I realized that he meant taxidermy. So I will never again look at a stuffed caribou without thinking about teddy bears.
While I love all the beautiful exhibits (it really is a high class joint) and the expansive space (we all need to feel small sometimes) at The Rooms, there is one thing that always draws me back. The Giant Squid.
I hate it. I love it. It scares the bejesus out me. "That's a lot of calamari." says a more enlightened friend. I can almost smell formaldehyde just looking at it.
The first time I saw him* I felt the fear. In my throat, heart beating fast, and quickly walking to the much safer looking giant whale bone. Next time, I say to one of my visitors to St. John's "you gotta see this Giant Squid, it's disgusting", maybe to see if it scares them as much as me. Nope, just another dead animal. It may as well be a teddy bear to them.
But I keep going back to that exhibit. Like directly. Okay, after I eat. But then I am compelled to see the Giant Squid. Every Time.
I wonder why I am compelled. He's disgusting, sure. He's Giant, sure. He has tentacles that could pull me to god knows where, sure. There are other big and scary things in the ocean. On second thought, that might be part of it. I'm a mainlander, a land-lubber, and the North Atlantic is damn cold. I am, regardless, fascinated by this fear and even more fascinated that I keep wanting to go back, to know more, to understand. A very huge part of me hopes that this reaction to the fear is what will get me through my thesis. I want it to keep drawing me back even though writing it and putting myself out there scares the bejesus out of me.
Lately, a much more beautiful Giant Squid has come into the spotlight. I still find him scary yet compelling.
*don't ask me why I've decided to make these squids male. I don't know why.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
How I learned to love bologna
Why was I driving through a snowstorm yesterday thinking about how I am learning to love bologna? I wasn't sure, but I couldn't get it off my mind. I mean, what the hell am I doing living in Newfoundland, with all this beautiful majesty around me, and somehow that makes eating bologna okay. I swear to you I could not love bologna elsewhere.
I grew up in the Ottawa Valley. People around me ate balogna (baloney) sandwiches all the time. You know, on white bread with lots of margarine and french's mustard. I think I was jealous while I was eating my fried egg sandwiches with ketchup on toasted brown bread. "Is that blood on your sandwich?" kids would ask. Somehow, even with those alienating comments (or perhaps because of), I learned to look down on baloney. My mom was into health food like couscous and lentils or dutch food like boerenkoel and brown beans and bacon. Baloney was an over-processed no-no in our world.
But yesterday, looking at the snow on the drooping spruce trees along Healy's Pond driving from Rod's house, I thought 'holy shit, I think I like bologna'. We'd had bologna for lunch. Rod microwaved the hell out of it. "There's nothing you can kill in there." he says. No shit. There must have been somethings that died to get in the bologna. But that was a long, long time ago by the time it was put in the microwave. Regardless, I turned my nose up to the whole event.
When it landed in front of me, it was delicious. The fat, the salt, the yum. Newfie steak, they say at the screeching in ceremonies.
I think my favourite thing about Newfie steak is that it's pronounced "bal-og-nah" here. I could never in my child's mind understand how bologna was pronounced baloney. And, of course, Rod's entertaining comments and kind hospitality.
I've even started to love the turnip.
I grew up in the Ottawa Valley. People around me ate balogna (baloney) sandwiches all the time. You know, on white bread with lots of margarine and french's mustard. I think I was jealous while I was eating my fried egg sandwiches with ketchup on toasted brown bread. "Is that blood on your sandwich?" kids would ask. Somehow, even with those alienating comments (or perhaps because of), I learned to look down on baloney. My mom was into health food like couscous and lentils or dutch food like boerenkoel and brown beans and bacon. Baloney was an over-processed no-no in our world.
But yesterday, looking at the snow on the drooping spruce trees along Healy's Pond driving from Rod's house, I thought 'holy shit, I think I like bologna'. We'd had bologna for lunch. Rod microwaved the hell out of it. "There's nothing you can kill in there." he says. No shit. There must have been somethings that died to get in the bologna. But that was a long, long time ago by the time it was put in the microwave. Regardless, I turned my nose up to the whole event.
When it landed in front of me, it was delicious. The fat, the salt, the yum. Newfie steak, they say at the screeching in ceremonies.
I think my favourite thing about Newfie steak is that it's pronounced "bal-og-nah" here. I could never in my child's mind understand how bologna was pronounced baloney. And, of course, Rod's entertaining comments and kind hospitality.
I've even started to love the turnip.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Water in Egypt and around the world
Hello from Cairo!
I arrived in Cairo on the 31st of October to attend an international course on Water and Sustainability jointly run by ETH sustainability from Zurich and WESC (Wadi Environmental Science Centre) from Cairo. The course was conducted in two eco-lodges in the Sinai - one in the desert (El-Karm) and one by the Red Sea (Basata). Both locations were carefully chosen to drive home the message that water scarcity is a major global issue which is easily visible in the mountainous desert of the sinai and along the shores of the salty Red Sea.
There were 17 students from around the world - Sudan, Kenya, Colombia, Switzerland, Equador, Uzbekistan, South Africa, Germany, USA, Thailand, Turkey, India, and Canada:). On the first day, each student gave a presentation about water issues in their home country, giving us a global perspective of water issues. On the following days we learned from local experts and professors working in Europe about local and global water issues. Water scarcity, water supply, sanitation, and virtual water trading were the main topics of discussion.
Virtual water trading is directly related to agricultural import and export, where the amount of water that is used to grow a crop is essentially (virtually) exported out of the country of origin to feed the people of another country. For example, if a Canadian eats rice that is grown in China, and it requires x amount of water to grow the rice then the Canadian is taking water from their water cycle to feed themselves. Raising cattle is an extremely water-intensive endevour, so if a person from Ontario eats beef from water-scarce Alberta, it directly impacts the water source in that area.
The lectures on water supply and sanitiation mainly focussed on developing countries that have little access to clean water and proper waste treatment. Though the professor teaching the session is an engineer, he spoke adamently about the social implications of developing water sources in the developing water. Do the local people use water collection as a social ritual to keep communities together? He also spoke of communties that all the women walk together to the river to shit in the water and have a nice social time while they were there... The technical solutions that he emphasised were dry toilets that require no water - the flush toilet and sewer systems were designed in western countries that have proportionally more water than developing countries, specifically Africa. So why should Africans use many litres of water to flush sit-down toilets? Comfort? Colonialism? Keeping up with the Joneses? I don't know - maybe you do?
We also went on a couple of field trips - one to the closest village, where we learned from an Egyptian (medical) doctor, Dr. Murad, that the local groundwater has elevated levels of Flouride in the water, which leads to decaying teeth (yes, a little flouride is good, like in your toothpaste but a lot is bad) and joint pain in the bedouin people. The water used for drinking was also contaminated with bacteria. Dr. Murad started an NGO that implemented two simple water remediation methods with a strong emphasis on educating the community. They use alum and Na2CO3 to eliminate the flouride and SODIS to eliminate microbial contamination. The last water-related health issue in the local community is that the bedouins do not drink enough water and often get kidney stones. The population is so accustomed to having very little water that they have trained themselves to drink very little water. There is even a local custom to cut the uvula (that thing that hangs in the back of the throat) as it is believed that they will be less thirsty as a result. The other field trip was a 5 hour hike to St. Katherine monastary at the base of Mount Sinai. It was lovely...
The desert scenery at El Karm is incredible. It was peaceful, relaxing, and beautiful. The photos at the top of this post were taken by Hani Eskander, a professional photographer who came along for the course.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
nieuws from Holland
Hello!
I'm in Amsterdam and my brain is all mushed up with dutch and english words. The spell checker on this computer is in dutch as well, so you'll have to excuse my grade 6 spelling if I make any mistakes (in grade 6, my english teacher told me that I would never make it through grade 7 with my terrible spelling).
I really don't have much to report, actually. I arrived on Saturday, caught up with my cousin Simone, slept for a few hours and then we ate out at fun restaurant (www.pacificparc.nl) in the westerpark. The westerpark is an old industrial area in Amsterdam, where many of the factories are now restaurants with high ceilings and interesting architecture. My uncle also has a sculpture at the southern entrance to the park (www.michielschierbeek.com). While I'm bragging about my brilliant relatives, my cousin Simone also makes beautiful art (www.simoneschierbeek.com).
On Sunday, I visited my family in Groningen. It was a lovely visit and I had a lot of time to stare out of the train windows at cows, canals, and brick houses. I had even more time than I expected because I ended up taking the train to Leeuwarden instead of Groningen and then had to take another train to get to Groningen. This event really hurt my dutch language ego, because I really thought that I could understand dutch well, but apparently not well enough to get on the right train.
I did read an interesting article about dutch dairy cows... Apparently, the dutch have started importing north american Friesian-Holstien cows because the north american cows produce more milk, even though they came from holland in the first place. The funniest part about the article is that the dutch have started a cow preservation society to make sure that some of the original dutch cows (or their sperm) remain in circulation, even if they don't produce enough milk. I'm sure there are many evolutionary reasons to keep the dutch cows but I also thought this was a good indicator of dutch society - it is important to keep the heritage!
Today, Simone and I went to the photography museum (www.foam.nl) and had dinner with my uncle and cousins. Tonight we saw a show with the Pigeon Detectives. It was good! I mostly had a good time watching the lead singer jump around the stage and put his knees together like he had to pee. Most of all, I liked hanging out with my cousins Simone and Steven!
Tot ziens!
Titia
Monday, October 13, 2008
Getting ready to go!
Hi!
I just thought I'd get this thing warmed up again. I'm about to leave for another trip! I can't wait. On the 24th of October, I'm leaving for Holland for 5 days and then I'll be in Egypt for 21. I'll be taking a course on Water Sustainability for 10 days in the Sinai desert at an ecolodge with no electricity. Needless to say, I won't be doing much blogging then. Unless, of course I inherit a blackberry between now and then... probably not!
Keep in touch!
Love,
Titia
I just thought I'd get this thing warmed up again. I'm about to leave for another trip! I can't wait. On the 24th of October, I'm leaving for Holland for 5 days and then I'll be in Egypt for 21. I'll be taking a course on Water Sustainability for 10 days in the Sinai desert at an ecolodge with no electricity. Needless to say, I won't be doing much blogging then. Unless, of course I inherit a blackberry between now and then... probably not!
Keep in touch!
Love,
Titia
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