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|Tuesday, January 18th, 2011|
|Note the difference in dates
My PhD is not finished, but I am finished with it. No Doctor Glynn after all.
I am unbelievably happy about this. ;D Current Mood: Yay!
|Sunday, July 1st, 2007|
|I'm so very sorry.
Yeah... the apology is for both the idea and the quality of the execution. Perhaps I shouldn't bring the word execution too close to mind... On the brighter side, I'm going to do a PhD in Glasgow! Yay! On African sleeping sickness! (well, the cell cycle of trypansoma brucei...) Current Mood: relieved
|Tuesday, May 22nd, 2007|
|Internets cultural question
Does anyone know where the latest meme-thingy:
"I'm in ur x [doing y to] ur z"
came from? It's bizarre, and I'm curious. To take the example of my new (first ever!) LJ icon, that wolf would currently be saying "Im in ur logo howlin ur moon!" Current Mood: curious
|Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007|
|The fist line
Being in the second line is easy, though to the outside eye it looks like more work. It is certainly more energetic, but it is easier by far on the soul. All you have to do is be happy, and that is no chore in the middle of that dancing, singing, colourful throng, praising your way along the road and binging life and joy to the quiet places. Much harder by far to be a part of the first line, which allows the second to exist. To walk silently though the dark, all pride and poise with a wooden pole in your hand and a sombre banner above your head. The all-together slow-step march, where the only music is the beat of your feet on the street, and you must mourn the sorrows that have gone before, give them due reverence before they are chased away.
There are compensations though, the trees whisper approvingly as you pass, and bow in respect. Wood appreciates sorrow and gravity.
|Monday, December 11th, 2006|
|Literature Review Fatigue
I've started hallucinating the word "boring" into the title of the papers I read. For example:
"DNA-bend modulation in a repressor-to-boring switching mechanism."
Deadline on wednesday. I can do this, just need to keep trooping on and not waste time posting things to my LJ...
|Tuesday, November 14th, 2006|
|Lizard and Pombagira
A story I felt compelled to write. The actual writing isn't as good as normal (in my opinion) but I was going for a certain style. To be honest, I don't know if anyone still reads this LJ, but it's as good a place to store it as any. :)( Lizard and PombagiraCollapse )
|Wednesday, August 2nd, 2006|
|Notes on being a mad scientist
When I first set this thing up I started off with "Micro Adventures; The continuing mission to explore strange new places and get a degree"... yet for some reason I've really not talked about the sciency-stuff. (OK, to be honest I've probably not talked about a lot of things, being as I've not posted for about 4 months, but... well, I'm lazy.)
So to rectify this: I've currently got a Summer "job" (it's officially a "vacation scholarship") in a lab, looking at plasmid segregation in E.coli. I won't go into the details, as most would find them pretty dull, but I will say a few things.
When you become a mad scientist, the first thing that everyone associates with it is chronic absentmindedness. This can range from big things (like forgetting to hide the Big Red Button saying "cancel world domination attempt" in a place not immediately obvious to even the most dim-witted hero) to not eating your lunch. Now, anyone who knows me well knows what kind of relationship I have with food, but even I have delayed lunch by several hours on many occasions, and I've only been working here 4 weeks. It's 4.30 now and one of my colleagues just finished hers. It's not absentmindedness, though, it's necessity. Sometimes you are stuck in the middle of an experiment, if you take a break to eat your lunch and relax a little you'll have wasted the whole morning. Your carefully genetically engineered bacteria will dump their new plasmid, your killer sharks with frikkin "laserbeams" on their heads will eat each other or the hero will break into your secret laboratoy, rescue his girlfriend and imaple you on the gigantic ornamental spike you had put underneath your window last Tuesday.
Actually, that last will probably happen anyway (due to narrative imperative) whether you take a lunch break or not, so if that's your only worry as a mad scientist you might as well go ahead and cook yourself four fancy courses.
"But Glynn!" I imagine someone shouting. "You're not really a mad scientist. You haven't even graduated yet, you've just been working in a lab for four weeks." And yesterday I might have agreed. Today however, I have a smurf-esque song tripping around my brain like a teletubby on crack, waving its handbag around in a passable imitation of a pair of nunchucks. And it goes like this:
"Five-hundred microlitre aliquots, aliquots, aliquots."
Repeat ad infinitum et ad nauseum to a jingly little tune. Am I not truly damned? I tell you now, just as a friendly warning: if I'm not a mad scientist yet I soon will be.
|Thursday, May 4th, 2006|
A mystic asked a hotdog vendor to make him one with everything, but when he asked for change he was told "change must come from within".
|Saturday, February 18th, 2006|
I was procastinating around H2G2 just now and found a "useless facts" thread where the inevitable "there is no word that rhymes with orange" chestnut turned up. Other rhymless suggestions were purple and opera. Then some bright spark wrote this:
I took my girl to the opera
The python she carried was orange
The brooch she wore was copperer
Than a copper plated door hinge
Her face turned slowly purple
While she struggled to get her breath
She said "urgle gurgle gurple"
As the python squeezed her to death
Genius! ALthough "copperer" isn't good
English and "gurple" is blatantly not a word at all.
Don't know who to quote, but user name was "Fathom" and the thread is http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/F19585?thread=369071&skip=80&show=20
In other news, me, Vaz and Katie've got a house for next year (at last!), taking a shitload of stress off my back. Although I haven't told my parents that I didn't see it before putting my money up, but I trust those two. Whether I will continue to trust them after seeing the house is another matter...
My friend has started a taekwondo school recently, which I've had a lesson at. Kicking makes you happy. (He's also British and Portugese international Taekwondo champion, so it probably makes him even more happy.) I've also started a yoga class to help my flexibility, it's pretty cool. I chose Ashtanga yoga, as it promised a more intense workout and didn't mention the energy crap, which I can do without when I'm trying to relax. So far it's been pretty cool, and I've had some good advice about loosening my hips (my least flexible bit) from the teacher. The teacher is a guy, and thank goodness, because he's the only other male there. Ironically they go on about energy (or Axe')in capoeira all the time (Parente: "Sing, clap, make energia!"), but that's very much an external thing which I can happily interepret as the way the Roda makes you feel when everyone's clapping, singing and playing their hearts out. (ie. fucking excited!) Current Mood: procrastinatory
|Wednesday, January 18th, 2006|
You are sitting around, doing whatever it is that you are doing (reading my LJ seems likely, given that you are) when you hear, from very far away, the sound of running footsteps. You're still sitting your room, probably at your computer, but at the same time you are elsewhere, in the kind of wide open space beloved of dreams and cartoons. There is a road, and it goes in a straight line in either direction until it vanishes to a point each way. In one direction a small figure can be seen, growing as the distant footsteps become nearer. It soon resolves itself into a man, he runs past you so quickly that his scream changes pitch, like the siren on a fast moving ambulance.
You can tell it hasn't finished yet because there is still more of this post to read, so you hang around. Possibly you ponder what's going on, I can't tell from here. After a couple of minutes a second figure slouches up and asks you if you've seen a man running past.
"I need to find him, he's my motivation and I have exams to do. But I just can't seem to care."
All that for one poor punchline as a comment on my mood. Sorry.
(I'm not sorry really, not at all. I really liked writing that little story.)
|Friday, January 13th, 2006|
The pink lizard poled its barge happily along the slow-flowing river that ran through the Valley of the Wang. The human was staring moodily into the water, watching small fish sprint from tangled river-weed to shadow and back again.
"Why is it called the Valley of the Wang, anyway?" She asked, boredom finally forcing her to speak.
The human looked up at the great stone spires. She tilted her head, as if requiring a different angle to tak it all in. Then she gasped and went back to staring at the water before realising she could see the towering shapes reflected there too, so turned and stared into the centre of the little boat instead. The small lizard considered her shade of pink rather beautiful and wondered why she hadn't done it before.
She had an uncomfortable feeling that somewhere out there were five old men, staring at her disapprovingly. Possibly they were even shaking their heads.
OK, that's all I've got. This isn't the start of something bigger - it's obviously slightly further towards the middle than that, this girl blatantly doesn't want to go on whatever quest has compelled her and her reptillian companion to pass through the Valley of the Wang, the small pink lizard doesn't seem to be used to humans and really, what's going on with these old men? What's the significance of five of them?
These questions will quite possibly never be answered, but on the other hand I have a lot of revision to do and that does mean I'll probably have a surge of energy to something else - anything else.
And for the record, I'm still trying to decide whether to call a cross between an orange and a lion a liorange or just a roarange, since that's the sound they presumably make. (I imagine them sounding a lot like a lion's roar, only presumably squishyer.)
It's late and I'm not tired, but I should go to bed anyway.
|Thursday, January 12th, 2006|
Ursula Vernon makes rather funky art over at ursulav
. And I couldn't sleep the other night, and this isn't likely to go any further so...
The man stood as close to the edge as felt safe and looked over the plain. The picture seemed basically familiar, it was one he'd seen on wildlife shows about Africa a hundred times... but... citrus fruit?
Great herds of lemonlopes skittered about nervously, never spending too long with their... heads? Stems?... never spending too long eating the grass, always alert for predators. A huge, horned solitary lime (a lhimo, he giggled hysterically) moved slowly past an acacia, confident in its power in bulk. He was pretty sure he could see a pride of oranges lazing in the long grass. One of them (a male?) had a mane. He giggled some more (it seemed the only thing to do) and wondered if the pips were playing in the bushes somewhere. He was confused (what was with all the citrus fruit?) and uncomfortably aware that somewhere very distant, five old men were giving him some very disapproving looks. This wasn't a totally new feeling, but generally when old men give the younger generation disapproving looks they have the good grace to actually be present.
He was startled from these thoughts by an insistent noise ("gronk") which, had it come from a creature one hundred times the size would no doubt have been a terrifying bellow. As it was, the noise could only be described as cute. It was coming from the other side of a small puddle. At first he thought it was a stone, but then the creature dived into the puddle and swam energetically across, where ("gronk") it started ("gronk"), with near infinite cuteness ("gronk"), to headbutt his shoe. He looked closer - grey body, flippers, tusks - it was definitely a tiny walrus. In the middle of an African plain populated by citrus fruit. After a little more giggling - his hold on sanity was definitely slipping - he decided to call it a smallrus. He bent down to look at it closer and in doing so moved the foot it was headbutting, revealing the crushed body of a second animal. The first was visibly upset at this and the man himself felt dispondant. The only other mammals he had found in this crazy place and he had killed one of them.
He blinked -
- and was back in his office.
"What do you think of the teapot then? Gerald?" A hand waved across his view.
"The chocolate teapot. It's going to be huge!"
"Er, yeah. Great." What a weird day. "Hey Jon..."
"What would you call a cross between a lion and an orange?"
|Friday, October 14th, 2005|
Last night I went to see Royksopp. Sadly, I don't know how to make the little umlau-thingies above the o, but royksopp none-the-less.
It was very cool. I have no idea who the support act was, as we didn't arrive until they'd finished, but the show from the main act was fantastic, with flashing lights, a cheesy led display with the name of the songs on (and occasional facts/messages wandering past), some great performances (I've never seen someone using a sampler whilst playing the drums before, and the when the singer paused singing she struck some fantastic poses) and of course, really cool music. The poses made me chuckle, but she was bouncing around the stage pretty well, and apparently is called Anneli and is five months pregnant. And they played 2 out of 3 of my favorite songs - only missing "doop".
That was a good night. And tonight I'm going to a sixties party, dressed as a hippie in a tie-died t-shirt I made on wednesday. I'm very pround of the t-shirt because I wasn't sure if I'd done it all right, but it turned out fantastic. Gave a new lease of life to a tired old t-shirt that used to be white but was looking decidedly cream-coloured. I've also got a multi-coloured headband, some sandals and a big fat cheesy CND logo on a string.
Yay for mozarella!
PS. Credit to furikoneko
for sending me the first royksopp song I ever heard (Eple, which they played last night to my eternal joy), which directly lead to me going to the gig, and thus this rant about it here.
|Tuesday, September 13th, 2005|
I can’t write these days. My trombone playing is shafted from lack of practice. I’ve replaced writing and music with the use of my body, sport or dance, depends on my mood. Replaced brass with a one-string gunga and percussion. My social life is empty and these thoughts are depressing me. “So go on,” he says” “write.”
I wish it were that easy. There is something that I want to write, but I can’t see the next step to take. My characters are stuck in some town, the only way through I can see is delete the whole scene, maybe salvage some parts of it for later. Maybe I should start the apocalyptic battles (Armageddon, Australian for “Armageddin’outahere”), worry about the rest later. But then where do I go from there? I have no idea what happens after the badger-baiting and torture. I hoped it would become obvious, but I’ve left the story to rot. And I know this probably won’t make a lot of sense to – most people, all people? You can confuse some of the people all of the time, but have I confused all of the people at this time?
I want to do handstands, write, play, learn, and still I waste my time on computer games. I’ve been playing WoW like it’s a profession, but although I’ve been gaining skills in computer gaming rapidly it doesn’t help me gain any levels in the things that actually matter. I know this is a cheesy extension of the metaphor, and I apologise. Given that this post already breaks many of my rules on what is to be shared I will let it slide past the editor.
I’m confused, but I know what to do. I just don’t know if I have the willpower to do it. I know I have the potential willpower, but can I bring it into play? I’ve started writing at least, but then I can’t do many other things right now because it’s late and the noise would wake my family up. Unlike me they have jobs and school tomorrow. The only one that doesn’t is playing WoW as I type, if he wasn’t would I still be at it?
I’m going to post this in my blog. It’s a good spot for it, since this isn’t really creative enough for strangeminds. But at least it’s writing of some sort and at least I’ve been honest here, even if only cryptically. I hope you appreciate it, given that normally my problems and insecurities are kept deep. As I see it, there’s enough people that need cheering up and few people willing to do it, if I have to depress depression to do so then that’s a bonus, but even my barriers are not unbreakable, as you can see.
What a rant. End.
(was that a statement or an instruction?)
|Saturday, August 13th, 2005|
|Fitter than Mister Motivator
Last week I went to capoeira 6 times. It works out at at least 16 hours of capoeira. I've also got my old job at the hospital back, which involves cycling for 50 minutes a day (and not slow cycling either, as I'm always veging on late) and then walking for 7 1/2 hours pulling things that probably are twice my body weight. More in some cases.
Not bad, eh?
Though I should say that the capoeira on the saturday was performing (rather than training) in the Leicester Carribean Canival. What a Brazillian marshal art has to do with the Carribean is anyones' guess, but it was good fun. Trying to play a traditionally circular game up a street (following a float in the parade) is something of a unique challenge though. And bloody hard, too.
Of course, went out that night with my friends and Fish got me mightily drunk. He just starts handing me drinks (after he's ahad a few he becomes even more generous than he normally is. After I've had a few I let him.) and since he's a 2m tall rugby type as opposed to my 184cm skinny-type-who-can't-drink-anything-lik
e-as-much I end up in a far worse state than he does. So between that, severe dehydration from the day's activities and a possibly dodgy curried chicken from a stall at the carnival I was ill for the next 2 days and didn't recover totally for about 4.
I haven't even mentioned being jumped on and elbow-dropped by a capoeira teacher. Vicious little bugger. :D Current Mood: amused
|Friday, June 24th, 2005|
|An Important Annoucement
I feel I should draw this to the attention of the world. Or at least the part of it that reads this LJ. Which I think is about 3 people or so, but we'll skip over that.
Just before I came back home from uni (yes, I'm back home from uni) I met a girl. This may not be surprising, since some of you may meet girls regularly. Some of you may know that I also meet girls regularly. However, I don't regularly meet girls who's mother taught me in year 7 (about 8 or 9 years ago), who were taught maths by my mother and who have been living about 20m away from me for the past year.
I was quite amazed.
I wonder how you post to communities on LJ. Like Creatio.
I wonder how you link to communities on LJ. Like Creatio. Current Mood: relaxed
|Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005|
|Warning: Superheroitis is infectious
Saw the movie Van Helsing today. It's not awful (though it is silly in many places), but it's basically James Bond Goes To Transyllvania.
Other than that, sitting around at home, still feeling a little achy from capoeira last night. Yes, even though I'm on holiday from uni I've still managed to find a club in Leicester. Why? Because I gotta. It's just so addictive... the playing, not the aching muscles. That's the fun side effect that lets me know I've been trying hard enough.
I'll be getting my first belt in a few weeks. Great fun. That basically means some professional guy (I think he's from Sao Paulo) is going to play me and trip me up. Hope I don't do too shabbily.
The parents are off on holiday in Spain, so it's just me and Youngest Bro. Young Bro stopped by for long enough today to retrieve his mobile phone and steal some food, since that's the main reason he still sees the family: free food. Or as was the case yesterday, use of Dad's digital camera so that he can get a US-sized passport photo (of course theirs has to be different to ours) so he can get his USAian passport and emmigrate as far away from us as is convienient.
Youngest Bro just came in and told me he'd done 16 AND A HALF handstand push-ups... *shudder* But I still managed to beat him in our mandatory wrestling match yesterday. Getting harder though.
|Friday, January 21st, 2005|
For anyone who doesn't know, Elfwood is a site which puts up fantasy/scie-fi/horror art and stories. And if you do good, you may get a Mod's Choice, which means you get featured on the front page and a little star next to your work.
AND I GOT ONE!!!!!!
Eeeehehehehehe... I'm all bouncy and happy.
If you're quick you may be able to see it on the front page: (Devil Went Down To Georigia)http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/elfwood.pike
Or the story is here:http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/libr/s/t/stableglynn/devilwentdowntogeorgia.html.html
I'm so pleased... lalala...
I'm back in Manchester too. Exams have been going ok so far. It's nice to see people again, as well as have my family at arm's length. ;)
UPDATE: I can now to 6 handstand push-ups. Although I still need a wall to stop me falling over.
|Tuesday, January 4th, 2005|
|Found: A Spiral Galaxy named Willard. Could the owner please contact me here?
I have to admit, I don't know what to do with this space on the web to rant my rants where no one I don't know will probably ever see them. (Woohoo for double negatives!) Should I make it a "serious" journal and faithfully document what really happens to me? (Obviously given my outlook on life it wouldn't be that serious, but you get the drift) Or should I just set it free for flights of fancy like that just passed?
Either way, some events of the past couple of months that really do need documenting:
The middle brother in our trio (Ali), quitting college and moving out at 17, just like he'd always threatened to do. We never really thought he would, but he's being trying to get rich for years now and it's finally paying off. So he did. Ali's like that. Never can tell when he's joking. Unless he's arguing some contentious point with me and refusing to concede a bloody inch, even when he's wrong. And of course he's wrong, because he's disagreeing with me
The youngest brother (Oli) has become scarily strong. I know I have said this before to just about everyone I know, but it's getting worse. At 13 he's already stronger than my 20 year old self. He's nearly a stone (14 pounds, no idea how many kilos) heavier than I am. You haven't seen him doing handstand push-ups (with a wall for support of course). I can do one. Any wonder I've taken up a marshal art?
Proud to say I can still beat him in our little wrestling matches though. The judo I took when I was a little younger than he is now means I know more ways to hurt people than he does. ;)
I got a new mobile phone for Xmas. This is a good thing because the previous one stopped working about a week before and also because my trousers no longer hang down to one side due to the weight in one pocket. It is a bad thing because it means I am no longer carrying around a lethal club in case I am attacked.
So... yeah. That's pretty much it.
|Monday, January 3rd, 2005|
Bored. I am bored. Am I bored? Bored am I.
Oh, didn't see you there. Welcome, hello and greetings. My apologies for the long...
Yes, I do know that I am not really in a cheesy 1950's TV show. For instance, I do not smoke a pipe. But anyway... the reason I have been away for so long is a simple one. It is not because I was kidnapped by aliens, whatever you may have heard. Nor is it because I have been secretly solveing the problems of the world/plotting its subjugation under my benevolent dictatorship. Actually the aliens one was pretty close, I have been held prisoner by a tribe of sewer-dwelling pygmies, allowed out only for capoeira lessons and lectures (my captors held a strange respect for education). Although my girlfriend called me fat when she came to visit all that has now been lost, due to their diet of rats and sewer fish. No wonder they're pygmies, they follow the bloody Atkins diet from the day they are weaned!
After many weeks of being forced to order and catalogue their collection of lint I decided I'd had enough. You may imagine me striking a heroic pose if you wish. I devised an ingenious and highly convoluted escape involving a disused tunnel, a half-rotten fish carcass and a paperclip. I will spare you the details (at least partially so that if they recapture me I can use the same method when I inevitably grow bored of lint) but I will say that the paperclip was a fortuitous find part way into the escape.
I had been going to talk about other things. Alas, the TV is calling me. So I shall escape, too, from this keyboard and go and watch a program about a guy living with some tribe in the jungle. I'm trying to learn survival techniques to impress them with... Current Mood: bored