Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

This was one of the last projects for my summer drawing class. It’s charcoal on 18×24 drawing paper.

In retrospect, I would have chosen a less rigid form for the “abstract” and more free-form assignment… those angles were tough. I had to print out a protractor because the one I used last in high school was nowhere to be found. And I wasn’t about to go buy a protractor, because who uses a protractor in real life?!?

Oh, well, drafters and artists and wannabe artists who need to draw angles, I guess.

Ben has amassed a fair collection of model trains since he was a kid, and he’s been (finally) talking more seriously about building a layout for them. We have the space set aside in our house, so now it’s idea time.

We jointly decided this morning, accompanied by our good friend COFFEE, that one section of the layout should be zombie-fied. Little bloody/guts-showing miniature figures set up on one part of town where a derailed train has been burned (or is on fire) and a few non-zombie miniature figures huddled in small groups with cricket bats and beer. The zombies will be headed toward the part of town that remains (for the time) unscathed.

And in that unscathed part of town, there will (at the very least) be a MirthMobile parked outside Stan Mikita’s donut shop.

I would also like to see a secondary layout that reflects the late 1800s, with steam engines and top hats. And a TARDIS.

Gods bless Sundays with strong coffee and Doctor Who on DVD. So say we all.

Nine minutes. That’s about how long it takes to reach orbit from the Kennedy Space Center in 2009.

I didn’t go online intending to watch the space shuttle Discovery launch at 11:59 pm E.T., but I noticed CNN.com’s link to live coverage at the right time and tuned in. (Can I say “tuned in” if it’s online? Whatever.)

It was cool, awe-inspiring, I-wish-I-were-there-inducing, and at moments… a little boring. I’m embarrassed to write that last part, but it’s true. I couldn’t tell you how many shuttles have launched in my lifetime, or how many different shuttles actually exist right now. The 25th anniversary of the first Discovery launch is on Sunday—but I only know that because I just heard it on the news.

It’s weird that shuttle launches aren’t a Big Deal anymore. People I’ve talked to who watched the first lunar landing—in what, 1969, I think?—fondly convey memories of amazement and awe, no matter what age they were at the time. And here I am, someone who mostly keeps abreast of the news and is somewhat interested in Space Things, finding out about a shuttle launch only ten minutes beforehand. Is my level of embarrassment valid? Or have we, as a society, tired of routine Space Things and only become interested when there’s an explosion, a scandal, or a selfish reason like news of a realistic chance to walk on the moon?

I may not have been alive to watch the Apollo 11 land on the moon, but I do remember a lot of excitement surrounding my first space shuttle memory. And I’m not talking about the excitement around the movie Apollo 13 when I was in high school.*

January 28, 1986, my combined first/second grade class hunkered around a little black and white television in our classroom with the lights off. Mrs. Schumann had prepped us with information about the upcoming space shuttle launch and probably told us about her experience watching the lunar landing. This launch was exciting because of NASA’s Teacher is Space project; a civilian teacher had been specially selected and trained to join the mission.

The TV screen was small, and the picture was somewhat grainy, but I watched with interest as the space shuttle Challenger lifted off and the news anchor narrated with terminology I did not understand. And then a lot of puffy, trailing clouds appeared on the little screen, and after a few moments I heard my teacher gasp; my fellow classmates and I knew something was wrong but we didn’t know what. I don’t remember exactly how long Mrs. Schumann left the TV on after the explosion, but I remember her standing up abruptly to turn it off and that she was visibly shaken.

That evening’s ABC news broadcast, which of course I found on youtube, summed up my shared educational experience like this:

“Brought in for the new age’s first formal classroom lessons from outer space, our children were suddenly taught instead the old lessons: of mortality; of the real risk which gives any victories their meaning.”

Since first grade, I’ve seen a fair amount of news coverage and replays of successful shuttle launches, as well as the other explosion in recent memory—the Columbia. But I haven’t watched any of them live since 1986. My experience tonight was much different, watching streaming internet coverage in color all by myself in my living room late at night. Everything went according to plan—no explosions, not puffy trailing clouds. But there was still terminology I didn’t understand, and it freaking knocked my socks off to realize that a space shuttle could enter into orbit in under ten minutes. It takes me longer than that to get to the freeway from my house!

But you know what? Routine, boring shuttle launches are cool. Slightly boring, but therefore successful. They are victories for a growing-at-pace space age. And I hope I have an opportunity to see a shuttle launch in person someday.

*I definitely saw Apollo 13 in the theater. It was pretty cool, but I was more impressed by Contact a couple years later. The second time I saw Contact, my date wanted to make out in the theater… which really annoyed me because he hadn’t even seen the movie yet! So what’s geekier: going on a date to see a sci fi drama with the intention to make out the whole time, or going on a date to see a science fiction drama and not wanting to make out? (And yes, we liked each other, so making out in general was not the issue.)

My little sister defended her PhD in neuroscience on Thursday, August 13. She passed without conditions!

I am tremendously proud of her, despite the fact that I am now the only non-doctor of sciencey things in my immediate family. Monique blew through the University of Colorado Health Sciences PhD program in only 5 years. Yes, she’s one smart cookie, but she worked very hard to make it happen.

I flew into Denver Wednesday afternoon and met up with my family in time to see Monique practice her presentation, then helped her set up the conference room on Thursday before her official presentation at 2pm. “It’s only going to be my committee, people from my lab, my family, and maybe a couple friends,” she said.

Uh, yeah.

Monique grossly underestimated the turnout for her presentation. About 50 people ended up packing into the small conference room and I think a couple even turned away because even the standing room only area was filled.

“You counted how many people were there?” Monique asked when I reported the results to her.

“Duh,” I said. “But I did it during the part of your presentation that I had no chance of understanding, even a second time.” That seemed to make her feel better.

Still, before other people started trickling in, I gave Monique the gift I’d planned on giving her for over a year: a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a seratonin molecule. Lucky for me, she was already wearing the perfect shirt for it and her other necklace wasn’t even showing, so she wore it during her presentation.  And lots her nerdy science friends ooohed and aaaahed over it afterward. You can see it in the first photo above.

Regardless of the seratonin boost, Monique nailed her thesis presentation on “Translational Regulation of Amyloid Precursor Protein in Alzheimer’s Disease.” Damn impressive. I even understood a little, like the part in her PowerPoint where she incorporated a little cartoon image of Grim from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy next to an Alzheimer’s-stricken brain to convey brain cell death.

She was nervous, but it didn’t show as much as she thought it would. After her presentation, and after thunderous applause and some cookies, the crowd dispersed and Monique disappeared back into the conference room for a closed-door meeting with the committee that decides whether or not she’s done enough experiments and accumulated enough knowledge to deserve her PhD.

It was this actual defense that Monique was most nervous about. I waited with my parents in the lounge next door for an unspecified amount of time.

We waited. It seemed like forever. There wasn’t much light reading available, but the view was nice despite being a little cloudy.

After an hour and about 15 minutes, Monique emerged very stressed.

“Break number one,” she said. We tried to ask how it was going.

“I’m really tired don’t talk to me,” she said, and took a bathroom break.

She then hung out with us for a few minutes, not really saying much except that her committee was grilling her and it was HARD. Before we knew it, they were calling her back in.

And then, maybe 20 minutes after that, the door opened. My parents and I peeked around the corner, not quite sure what to expect… and someone said “She passed!” We went in to give her big hugs, and before we knew it, her advisor uncorked some bubbly and we were celebrating her successful defense!

The sun came out, Monique was all smiles, and everyone I talked to said wonderful things about her. As a scientist, as a person, and as a friend. All things I’ve heard before, and all things that I know I will hear again.

She’s currently editing and preparing her actual thesis to be printed and bound—a requirement that will result in her thesis being forever on file in the school’s library and accessible for future generations who want to wade through a couple hundred pages of sciency jibba jabber. I think that’s really cool.

And it’s extra cool to think about her research being used by others in the future to help develop pharmaceuticals for the treatment of Alzheimer’s Disease.

I give her an A+ for contribution to society in general.

Okay, so she’s still officially matriculating until the end of December, when she will receive her actual diploma and her thesis has a dewey decimal number attached to it, but she’s completed all of the other requirements. She’s not taking a break at this point, and is actually going to start her Next New Adventure this fall. As always, she’s accomplished one thing and is looking forward to move on to a new challenge.

My little sister, Dr. Monique. Even though I view her as more successful in life than me, I like to think that I’ve always been there to encourage her along the way.

I was nodding off in front of my laptop last night while writing this, and then today (Thursday) has been a bit of a whirlwind without internet access. So just imagine that you were reading this Wednesday night.

My final masterpieces have been turned in for my Drawing I class and I took the final exam this morning. I’ll share those soon. I went home to pack, then Ben drove me to the airport (with only 1.7 trillion Utah Driver incidents along the way) where the security line was long and I didn’t have a seat assignment. When I checked at the gate, the agent printed out a little receipt with seat number 20C that turned out to be in the very last, and very windowless, row of the small plane.

However.

I sat next to a very friendly Brit named Phil, who turned out to be the manager of singer/songwriter Bobby Long. Bobby had been sitting on the other side of the aisle, but he moved up when two girls asked him to switch so they could sit together. Phil said he’s pretty shy, so if I’d been sitting next to him we might not have spoken at all.

Given the tight quarters and the fact that there was no freaking window for the poor passengers forced to sit in the very back row, insert pity party here, Phil and I fell into small talk pretty easily. When he revealed that he was three weeks in to a one-slash-two-year world tour with Bobby Long, I smiled and said, “oh!” but clearly had no idea who Bobby Long was.

Turns out he co-wrote the main song for the Twilight movie (which I have not seen, and have no real desire to see) and that thrust him head-on into famous… though according to Phil he’s “the real thing” when it comes to folk singing and songwriting. Which of course he’s going to say as his manager, but he struck me as being more sincere than the stereotypical manager/agent. Or maybe it was his sexy British accent.

Regardless, we chatted for nearly the whole ride, which is something I rarely do. Granted it was under two hours. We agreed that the back row of the plane has a special “gang” dynamic since we’re all stuck in the back.  Shaunette, the Memphis-based flight attendant who enthralled Phil with her accent and beautiful dark skin, was part of our gang when she sat in a pull-out seat in the aisle next to me during take-off and landing of the really bumpy flight. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic or overly sensitive to turbulence, because hoo boy.

Overall, my conversation with Phil was pretty normal. We talked about our families, the challenges of air travel, Ernest Hemingway, Neil Gaiman, Moxy Fruvous*, and, you know, the rigors of traveling the world playing sold-out gigs and becoming more and more of a recognizable public figure. I’m not one to get fangirlish over someone just because they’re famous, and Phil expressed appreciation for that. He referenced people whom he calls Shakers—those who instead of using actual words when they meet him and/or Bobby, they just shake or nod their heads a lot and make grunting half-words. Star-dazed, I’d say. I think I’ve seen enough celebrities, and had the opportunity to talk to a few**, to understand that they’re all humans and most likely overwhelmed by overbearing fans and I do not want to be THAT GUY.

Bobby had a gig in Denver that night, and since I’d told Phil that I was flying to Denver for my sister’s PhD defense, he invited me (with a plus-one) to come by the sold-out 350-person venue. As in, he would put my name on the list. Now that, in general, was enough to make me all giggly inside. I’ve never had my name on the list for a concert or anything like that.*** Schweeeeeet.

I wish it would have worked out, but ultimately it didn’t. Monique was pretty stressed while preparing for her defense on Thursday, so I decided that being with her was more important than attending a concert. Even if Bobby Long is some superstar 22-year-old folk sensation. Phil said that he’s planning a concert in (Colleen, are you listening?) Boise in November, so maybe Ben and I can drive in for that. Shaunette and I both had very good things to say about Boise, between screams from the two girls sitting across the aisle as we surfed the rough tide of the atmosphere in our pea-sized plane.

But Phil revealed his real motivation for the Boise show: he wants to visit Ketchum, Idaho. Boise will get to see Bobby Long because Phil is a HUGE fan of Ernest Hemingway. I found this very amusing, especially since I’m a huge Neil Gaiman fan, who is a (sort of ex-pat) British author. We each had a book out from our favorite authors. Except he hadn’t heard of Neil Gaiman. My jaw dropped and I cried a little, but then I figured “one less fan I have to beat down in line to meet him.”

In any case, staying with the fam turned out to be the right decision for the evening. Monique practiced her thesis presentation in front of the three of us on Wednesday afternoon, and it was pretty polished and pretty damn impressive. I wasn’t nearly as concerned as she was about her committee not passing her. Then we went out for dinner and afterward, while Monique pounded a few more molecules of information into her brain, I fell asleep while writing this blog entry.

*Moxy Fruvous is my favorite Canadian modern folk rock bands, but they’re no longer together. I swooned big time for hottie band member Jian Ghomeshi. At one point during today’s conversation, Paul mentioned meeting Billy Bob Thornton while swimming at a hotel pool in L.A., and I had to tell him about the time Billy Bob was a dick to my guy Jian on a radio talk interview this year.

**Writing that kind of slaps a pompous sticker on my face, but it’s not like I hang out with Brad Pitt when he’s in town or anything. (ZOMG pinch me now if that were true.) It’s just that I’ve been to a few geek conventions and I volunteer for Sundance, so I’m acclimating to being in the presence of celebrity-types. Uh, nevermind that maybe I wanted to lick Alia Shawkat’s face in June.

**I only imagine that if my name ever gets on a list or I get backstage passes, I will behave exactly as Wayne Campbell and Garth Algar did when they met Alice Cooper. Especially if local history is divulged.

To continue the new (and probably short) string of geeky artwork by moi… here is my graphite rendering of Darth Vader: The Cookie Jar.

I got this 10-inch tall plastic cookie jar a few years ago by collecting UPCs from cereal boxes and sending them in. His helmet comes off to reveal room for about 2 cookies inside… so he’s used as a bust on the mantle instead of a cookie jar.

I have 4 more sketches to complete by Wednesday, plus 1 self-portrait and 1 abstract drawing collage-type thingy that I’ve already started. I’ll take a quick final for that art class on Wednesday morning, then I’ll leave that afternoon for Denver, where I will watch my little sister defend her PhD thesis on Thursday! Holy crap! On many levels!

This is a graphite drawing of my bobblehead Marvin from the movie Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I hadn’t quite learned about proper shading, so I stopped before adding too much shading.

I’m taking a drawing class at Utah Valley University this summer, and have been required to keep a sketchbook. “These should be finished sketches,” the teacher said. We can draw anything, but no stick figure gesture drawings or the like for actual points toward an actual grade.

So I’ve spent a fair number of hours drawing objects that are laying around my house and I like some of the results. No fruit bowl still lifes for me, though. I’m drawing only the interesting objects laying around my house. Like this 2-foot Love-A-Lot Care Bear stuffed toy that Ben gave me for Christmas a few years ago.

The last time I took an art class was in 6th grade, so I’ve been delighted to discover that I’ve improved over the years. Like good wine. I’m sure that actually paying attention in class has helped. I have been known to doodle a little bit on my own, but not enough to ever believe that I am destined to become a Great Artist. Still, it’s been fun. Now I only have 10 more sketches to finish by Tuesday…

True. So true. I have the same 3.5 inch Darth Vader guarding my freezer, but he’s not nearly as intimidating as one of my cats eyeing me shortly before their food is dispensed.

I really think that I need to get one of these t-shirts. But first, I want to know why the dinosaur is wearing braces. That’s just ridiculous.

Thesaurus t-shirt from snorgtees