Between our Spring Conference, PACAC in late June, PACAC Summer Institute at Bucknell just past, and training our campuses on the new visitation system (I'm at our Delaware County campus presently), I've had enough of leaving early in the morning to drive around Pennsylvania. Between the aforementioned, plus Spend a Summer Day rehearsal this Sunday and other sundry nonsense for work, I've had enough of working outside my usual hours. Between visitation text work (not finished), revising the web application (not finished), various web tool additions (mostly finished), monthly updates to the student section of the site (ongoing), the final edit of the paper application (finished as of 5:30 last night) and the usual counseling I do, I'm surprised I haven't had enough of writing and editing. Nevertheless, I may be pushing too hard, because I feel like I need a vacation.
But I'm learning a lot. From Spring Conference, I got my first taste of our other campuses. At PACAC, I learned the importance of socializing with colleagues not from my institution and re-learned how useful some seminars can be. At Summer Institute, I learned how different Admissions at Penn State is from all other institutions. From the visitation tour, I learned that I adore the people I'm working closely with on this project, I saw more of our campuses, and learned how variable their operations are, as well as confirming that the work I enjoy most integrates text and technology.
All in all, I'm very very glad this job involves both, and my boss wants me to do more. Next up, I'm hoping to push my knowledge of the latter.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Friday, June 17, 2005
owls and spiders, oh my!
A. and I hiked about two hours' worth of Shingletown Gap last night, until we weren't sure we'd make it back to the car by the time the light faded enough that it was difficult to see our footing. We did make it, though. The sun hadn't even gone down yet, but the woodedness of the area and intermittent clouds did make things a little more difficult for us near the end.
We were slowed down by a flash of large wings through the pines, which A. noticed before I did. Being in the lead helped, I think. A large white/beige owl with a huge round face perched about a hundred feet away from us and began this call that almost sounded like a hiss, with more vocalization near the end of it. It was looking straight at us while it did this, as if accusing us of invading its space. I tried taking a picture of it (I haven't seen how this came out yet, but due to the dimness, I really doubt I got anything much). We stood still for minutes, and it started looking around and continuing to make the hiss-call. Owls are creepy when they look behind themselves without moving their bodies.
Eventually it hopped forward to a closer branch to us. Shortly after that, we took our leave. We looked back about fifty feet down the trail to see it still looking after us, calling its little hiss-call.
I think that's as close as I've ever gotten to a wild owl. Earlier, we'd watched fish dart through the stream and wondered how they got into the little pools of stillness through the fast-running water, blocked by detritus. This stream feeds the Shingletown Watershed near the parking area--upon a Google search, I find this stream is called Roaring Run. During most of the hike, we could hear it, but I wouldn't call it Roaring. Perhaps it does farther up the mountain, though.
I love the fact that Google searches often lead me elsewhere: I just found out that Bellefonte has an old quarry that people use for rock climbing. I may just have to check it out.
Back to that hike, though: early on, we found an old house--mere foundations, mostly, at this point--with a little chimney section. In this, I found a snail. Don't think I've ever seen one of those, either. Later on, we found a bunch of webs that, upon poking my nose into, I realized were built by a tunnel spider. Eventually, upon using my camera to magnify an area we couldn't see very well, we saw the (rather large) yellow spider hiding within. Again, I don't think I'd ever seen a tunnel spider before.
In all, an excellent hike.
In home news, and on the subject of spiders, I found one of my two pet bathroom spiders hanging from me when I entered the bathroom this morning, having been kicked out of the other one's web the night before (but not eaten, as another unfortunate spider was. nothing like cannibalism in your bathroom to greet you in the morning). I suspect this one was doing something in the open doorway that I pushed through as I entered. I put it onto the floor by its dragline, and it skittered under the sink as fast as it could go. Guess I scare things that much smaller than me.
We were slowed down by a flash of large wings through the pines, which A. noticed before I did. Being in the lead helped, I think. A large white/beige owl with a huge round face perched about a hundred feet away from us and began this call that almost sounded like a hiss, with more vocalization near the end of it. It was looking straight at us while it did this, as if accusing us of invading its space. I tried taking a picture of it (I haven't seen how this came out yet, but due to the dimness, I really doubt I got anything much). We stood still for minutes, and it started looking around and continuing to make the hiss-call. Owls are creepy when they look behind themselves without moving their bodies.
Eventually it hopped forward to a closer branch to us. Shortly after that, we took our leave. We looked back about fifty feet down the trail to see it still looking after us, calling its little hiss-call.
I think that's as close as I've ever gotten to a wild owl. Earlier, we'd watched fish dart through the stream and wondered how they got into the little pools of stillness through the fast-running water, blocked by detritus. This stream feeds the Shingletown Watershed near the parking area--upon a Google search, I find this stream is called Roaring Run. During most of the hike, we could hear it, but I wouldn't call it Roaring. Perhaps it does farther up the mountain, though.
I love the fact that Google searches often lead me elsewhere: I just found out that Bellefonte has an old quarry that people use for rock climbing. I may just have to check it out.
Back to that hike, though: early on, we found an old house--mere foundations, mostly, at this point--with a little chimney section. In this, I found a snail. Don't think I've ever seen one of those, either. Later on, we found a bunch of webs that, upon poking my nose into, I realized were built by a tunnel spider. Eventually, upon using my camera to magnify an area we couldn't see very well, we saw the (rather large) yellow spider hiding within. Again, I don't think I'd ever seen a tunnel spider before.
In all, an excellent hike.
In home news, and on the subject of spiders, I found one of my two pet bathroom spiders hanging from me when I entered the bathroom this morning, having been kicked out of the other one's web the night before (but not eaten, as another unfortunate spider was. nothing like cannibalism in your bathroom to greet you in the morning). I suspect this one was doing something in the open doorway that I pushed through as I entered. I put it onto the floor by its dragline, and it skittered under the sink as fast as it could go. Guess I scare things that much smaller than me.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
mountains and caves
Driving in this morning gave me glimpses of sunbeams--stairways to heaven--through the clouds. I wish there was another common name/metaphor for them: they're gorgeous, but hard to describe.
The low-hanging clouds made the range lining up with Mount Nittany hazy. Again, gorgeous. I'm glad to have such a pleasant--or at least picturesque--commute.
I had the opportunity recently to visit Centre Hall twice. I used to go there much more often, when H. lived out there, but hadn't been back in awhile. Centre Hall has the distinction of being built right at the foot of one mountain range, and the rise is impressive, especially as a backdrop to such beautiful houses and churches. Given, there's the mix of unattractive houses as well, but much down there is quite pretty.
In one case, I was driving J. to the dealership to pick up his car. In the other, I was driving out with D. to see Penn Cave. Penn Cave was a weird one for me: I adore caves and cave tours, even if I don't particularly care for the kitsch that almost always accompanies them (although I remember now that the D. from high school wrote enthusiastically about such kitsch, as a total aside).
Penn Cave, though, is a totally water-based tour. You're in the boat the whole time, sometimes ducking to pass through what they call the Narrows, or other low-hanging configurations. You get on the boat after watching the huge trout chase food people throw in (those fish get violent!), go through the cave, which isn't entirely impressive, then out the other side, through a man-made entrance. You get to see bits of their wildlife park, including a pair of nesting swans. The boat makes a circle around the island they nest on, then you go back through the cave and see it all again at a bit faster of a pace and including some special-effect lighting. Overall, though I love caves, I wasn't entirely impressed. I appreciated the drive out there more, in some ways.
In some ways, perhaps, it's the touch-feel sense of caves that I love. The expanse of interior space versus the press of rock bearing down all around you. Being in the water, in a boat, made that feeling very distant for me. Or perhaps it's that I had company. The most recent tours I've had of caves were done on my own--and it may be that I prefer the relative solitude. Relative, given that there's usually many others with me on the tour, of course.
That's it. I just need my own cave to retreat to.
The low-hanging clouds made the range lining up with Mount Nittany hazy. Again, gorgeous. I'm glad to have such a pleasant--or at least picturesque--commute.
I had the opportunity recently to visit Centre Hall twice. I used to go there much more often, when H. lived out there, but hadn't been back in awhile. Centre Hall has the distinction of being built right at the foot of one mountain range, and the rise is impressive, especially as a backdrop to such beautiful houses and churches. Given, there's the mix of unattractive houses as well, but much down there is quite pretty.
In one case, I was driving J. to the dealership to pick up his car. In the other, I was driving out with D. to see Penn Cave. Penn Cave was a weird one for me: I adore caves and cave tours, even if I don't particularly care for the kitsch that almost always accompanies them (although I remember now that the D. from high school wrote enthusiastically about such kitsch, as a total aside).
Penn Cave, though, is a totally water-based tour. You're in the boat the whole time, sometimes ducking to pass through what they call the Narrows, or other low-hanging configurations. You get on the boat after watching the huge trout chase food people throw in (those fish get violent!), go through the cave, which isn't entirely impressive, then out the other side, through a man-made entrance. You get to see bits of their wildlife park, including a pair of nesting swans. The boat makes a circle around the island they nest on, then you go back through the cave and see it all again at a bit faster of a pace and including some special-effect lighting. Overall, though I love caves, I wasn't entirely impressed. I appreciated the drive out there more, in some ways.
In some ways, perhaps, it's the touch-feel sense of caves that I love. The expanse of interior space versus the press of rock bearing down all around you. Being in the water, in a boat, made that feeling very distant for me. Or perhaps it's that I had company. The most recent tours I've had of caves were done on my own--and it may be that I prefer the relative solitude. Relative, given that there's usually many others with me on the tour, of course.
That's it. I just need my own cave to retreat to.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
The inescapable humidity broke today. Today's 73 degrees at 8 a.m. is a low for this time of day in the last few weeks, at least. I suspect we had rain overnight, which helped. The stormclouds on the horizon this morning promised either more to come, or that previous rainfall clearing. But the sun's angle through the dark clouds, with more dimness hanging over the closer mountains, is just lovely. I have to reiterate an earlier thought here: sun is more beautiful against a backdrop of darkness.
Monday, June 13, 2005
A, a (relatively) new infatuation, gave me an original painting this past Saturday. It's dark, featuring a layer of newspaper with a photo from Berlin after the Russians entered it. In the right bottom corner is a little girl wrapped in a 20 Euro note. The rest is a smear of grey, with a flash of red peeking through. The slate found on a curb, broken, appears on top and bottom right. In describing why those colors, A explained that since I wear a lot of black, and it was being painted for me, darker was probably better. I can't argue: it fits perfectly over one of my black bookcases. "Places in Picturebooks" is written on the back, along with A's signature.
We got together on Friday as well, downtown. There, I ran into the closest friend I've got at work. Turns out he knows A to some extent. I met the friends of both, joked around for awhile, and then we went back to A's for a movie.
The week before, A and I had gone for a walk in a park I'd known existed but had never been in. It was gorgeous, and I lost myself in the details. We hovered near the spring, or at least we assumed it was a spring, since we couldn't see the source for sure. We watched things on the bottom of the streambed, through the clear water. We examined the ivy overtaking trees, and the magnificent twists it made on its way up, and the interlocking of its wooded base. A identified the trees that stood far above the rest of the greenery (which of course I forget the name of now), amazed that things could be dredged out of a started-then-abandoned undergrad in Forestry. We paused on every bridge to take in everything in minute detail. It made me miss the macro photography series I'd worked on for a year. During that walk, as well, I noticed that I pretty much forget my nose in the winter, but something along there--a purple flower of varying intensity, I think--smelled amazing. It's kind of strange to suddenly have something to smell outside again. But I like it.
We got together on Friday as well, downtown. There, I ran into the closest friend I've got at work. Turns out he knows A to some extent. I met the friends of both, joked around for awhile, and then we went back to A's for a movie.
The week before, A and I had gone for a walk in a park I'd known existed but had never been in. It was gorgeous, and I lost myself in the details. We hovered near the spring, or at least we assumed it was a spring, since we couldn't see the source for sure. We watched things on the bottom of the streambed, through the clear water. We examined the ivy overtaking trees, and the magnificent twists it made on its way up, and the interlocking of its wooded base. A identified the trees that stood far above the rest of the greenery (which of course I forget the name of now), amazed that things could be dredged out of a started-then-abandoned undergrad in Forestry. We paused on every bridge to take in everything in minute detail. It made me miss the macro photography series I'd worked on for a year. During that walk, as well, I noticed that I pretty much forget my nose in the winter, but something along there--a purple flower of varying intensity, I think--smelled amazing. It's kind of strange to suddenly have something to smell outside again. But I like it.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Today I managed to get caught in two different storms. After the first, I drove silently, watching the steam rising from the roadway, seeing through that mist a mix of dark green pines and fresh new summer leaves on the rest, and weaving around the branches and leaves down everywhere. It was bright--so bright, in the post-thunderstorm sun. Even the stadium, with the sun streaming down, looked attractive. Fresh and gleaming. Past it, the storm having moved into the next valley gave the bright glass and steel a dramatic dark backdrop.
The second storm was surprisingly violent. I cruised along the bypass (which, as an aside, I'm thankful for, as it gives a height in the valley--a viewpoint I never would've had otherwise). I watched lightning strike to the right of the road, and a moment later the thunderclap made me jump. I laughed at myself afterwards for startling: I knew it was coming, after all.
Intensity, both the storm and the sun, leads to joy.
The second storm was surprisingly violent. I cruised along the bypass (which, as an aside, I'm thankful for, as it gives a height in the valley--a viewpoint I never would've had otherwise). I watched lightning strike to the right of the road, and a moment later the thunderclap made me jump. I laughed at myself afterwards for startling: I knew it was coming, after all.
Intensity, both the storm and the sun, leads to joy.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Walking into my building, I looked down at my feet, wondering at how comfortable my shoes were, and realized I'd put on the wrong shoes. I almost laughed out loud, despite other folks also coming in to work. My current shoes are emphatically not business-wear, but rather more like overgrown leather slippers. They're by Børn, and are amazing.
The moral of the story is: at least my footwear can make me laugh on days I'm in a rush to get out of the house.
The moral of the story is: at least my footwear can make me laugh on days I'm in a rush to get out of the house.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Saw/heard Crystal Method last night. Scott was excellent, despite a few technical issues: his partner, though, we heard little from.
Evil Nine warmed up to being pretty decent. The opening DJ, on the other hand, was lamentable. In my professional opinion, his beatmatching and transition skills needed some serious work.
In general: great beats. Just wish they'd all used more vocals.
Side note: good candid picture opportunities. Got some great results, both crowd candids and performer shots.
Excellent night--equal parts shooting and dancing.
Evil Nine warmed up to being pretty decent. The opening DJ, on the other hand, was lamentable. In my professional opinion, his beatmatching and transition skills needed some serious work.
In general: great beats. Just wish they'd all used more vocals.
Side note: good candid picture opportunities. Got some great results, both crowd candids and performer shots.
Excellent night--equal parts shooting and dancing.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Today I was in a meeting with about seven people in it, by memory. Three of us were Annes--in fact, all the females in the room were named Anne. All three of us spell it the same way.
I go from being the only Anne, especially the only Anne-with-an-e, to that name being as common as pennies.
Better yet: one of those Annes shares the same job title and responsibilities with me, and has the office next door. Even better yet: we have the same middle name, as well.
I go from being the only Anne, especially the only Anne-with-an-e, to that name being as common as pennies.
Better yet: one of those Annes shares the same job title and responsibilities with me, and has the office next door. Even better yet: we have the same middle name, as well.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Snow greeted me as I walked out of the house this morning. Less than a block from home, the little amber gas pump next to my speedometer lit up.
Normally, I'm a good girl, and follow the advice my dad provides: that is, never let your tank get below half when it might snow.
Really, near May, I didn't think this would be a problem. But I have to admit I debated for a good long time (even though I was five minutes late for work) about whether or not to get gas before going in. Lateness and a meeting spurred the latter choice. Instead, I snagged a couple minutes at lunch to do so.
The older lady in the car who pulled in behind me couldn't figure out how to work the pump. The reflection on and angle of the little screen on the pump (as well as her height, or lack thereof) contributed to the problem.
I have to say I fear becoming that little old lady. The day that technology confuses me to the point that I can't fill my gas tank is the day I should really stop driving. I don't think it'll happen anytime soon, but that certainly helps along my drive to stay current with web and tech developments.
Even better, during my last (first, for that matter) staff review, I was told the entire office depends on me to research and help implement new and better ways to communicate with students via tech and the web.
I like my job.
Normally, I'm a good girl, and follow the advice my dad provides: that is, never let your tank get below half when it might snow.
Really, near May, I didn't think this would be a problem. But I have to admit I debated for a good long time (even though I was five minutes late for work) about whether or not to get gas before going in. Lateness and a meeting spurred the latter choice. Instead, I snagged a couple minutes at lunch to do so.
The older lady in the car who pulled in behind me couldn't figure out how to work the pump. The reflection on and angle of the little screen on the pump (as well as her height, or lack thereof) contributed to the problem.
I have to say I fear becoming that little old lady. The day that technology confuses me to the point that I can't fill my gas tank is the day I should really stop driving. I don't think it'll happen anytime soon, but that certainly helps along my drive to stay current with web and tech developments.
Even better, during my last (first, for that matter) staff review, I was told the entire office depends on me to research and help implement new and better ways to communicate with students via tech and the web.
I like my job.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Judged the Student Film Festival here yesterday, along with five other people. One work felt like a standout to me--an almost concept-piece about a woman who kills God, and the world being unprepared for it. It was also one of the few actually on film, and you could really tell the quality difference. Touches of beautiful color work were included, and simply amazing visuals every once in awhile.
Overall, it was great fun, and I think we turned out an excellent Film Festival. I hope they'll invite me to do it again next year.
Overall, it was great fun, and I think we turned out an excellent Film Festival. I hope they'll invite me to do it again next year.
Monday, April 18, 2005
I just saw Amiri Baraka, Sophia Sanchez, and a couple younger folks perform and speak. As is my habit lately, thanks again to my fantastic uncle and his fabulous gift of a great little voice recorder, I recorded the entire thing. I intend to convert the files to .wavs and burn them to a CD, if that's possible.
That experience was just amazing. I'd forgotten how much I love the poets that emerged from the Harlem Renaissance--and their younger protoges were also excellent. Baraka read the poem "Somebody Blew Up America," which moved the governor and legislature of New Jersey to try to oust him as poet laureate of New Jersey. His reading style--confrontational, vehement--can be entrancing if you let it.
Also amazing (but not nearly so much) was the girl sitting next to me who later asked: "What's your major?" after asking me for copies of the files. Mental note: email her when I've managed to burn the CD.
That experience was just amazing. I'd forgotten how much I love the poets that emerged from the Harlem Renaissance--and their younger protoges were also excellent. Baraka read the poem "Somebody Blew Up America," which moved the governor and legislature of New Jersey to try to oust him as poet laureate of New Jersey. His reading style--confrontational, vehement--can be entrancing if you let it.
Also amazing (but not nearly so much) was the girl sitting next to me who later asked: "What's your major?" after asking me for copies of the files. Mental note: email her when I've managed to burn the CD.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
While I have to say I'm really, really curious about my background, I'm not $100 plus shipping curious.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
I just got my boss's boss (a.k.a. my grand-boss) to say "when last we left our intrepid adventurers" in a meeting. Then he proposed to rename our committee the Intrepid Web Adventurers on the condition that we all had to stand with our hands on our hips, chin up and at an angle, when we said so.
I said that I'd do it only if I got to take a picture of him doing it.
My grand-boss rocks.
I said that I'd do it only if I got to take a picture of him doing it.
My grand-boss rocks.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
See the links for the current events around here that have been occupying way more mental space than, in a just and proper world, they should.
The letter that started it all.
Allies respond.
The editor's retort.
The 'use this for good, not evil' editorial.
One columnist's take.
A professor's input.
Many of the responses to the first letter there show some intelligence. Then again, we also got responses like this one:
"Showing gays kissing illustrates sinful ways."
Sometimes I wonder about humanity.
The letter that started it all.
Allies respond.
The editor's retort.
The 'use this for good, not evil' editorial.
One columnist's take.
A professor's input.
Many of the responses to the first letter there show some intelligence. Then again, we also got responses like this one:
"Showing gays kissing illustrates sinful ways."
Sometimes I wonder about humanity.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
There's so much I've meant to write. So many entries I've composed in my head, never to emerge again. Often birthed on the drive to work.
For an example of my schedule after work of late, here's my last week:
Monday - mall and dinner with G.
Tuesday - coffee, walk, and drink with A.
Wednesday - planned BBC mystery night with G. and J. My body decided it wanted sleep more.
Thursday - dinner and used bookstore with D.
Friday - birthday gathering/dinner with J., L., and Dax. Bar thereafter with J., G., and a different J.
Saturday - gathering of friends and game
Sunday - work at the club
And this week's been remarkably similar. Why did I suddenly get so popular, and why does it have to suck so bad to have no time to myself? (not that I'm complaining about the company, mind.)
For an example of my schedule after work of late, here's my last week:
Monday - mall and dinner with G.
Tuesday - coffee, walk, and drink with A.
Wednesday - planned BBC mystery night with G. and J. My body decided it wanted sleep more.
Thursday - dinner and used bookstore with D.
Friday - birthday gathering/dinner with J., L., and Dax. Bar thereafter with J., G., and a different J.
Saturday - gathering of friends and game
Sunday - work at the club
And this week's been remarkably similar. Why did I suddenly get so popular, and why does it have to suck so bad to have no time to myself? (not that I'm complaining about the company, mind.)
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
It's been a misty morning, sliding into a dreadfully dreary day. Mt. Nittany, when I drove in, had a ring of fog around its base. The mountains just visible beyond the soccer field from my office window are still barely visible. Everything's hushed. It was quiet in the office this morning, although when student volunteers arrived, that changed, as usual.
But now, through the hush, come the yells of the field hockey team as they practice in my office's backyard. They are quieter than yesterday, though, and I have my trusty headphones.
I'm sure this headache will pass.
But now, through the hush, come the yells of the field hockey team as they practice in my office's backyard. They are quieter than yesterday, though, and I have my trusty headphones.
I'm sure this headache will pass.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)