Journal

After somehow managing to lose my Rio Karma, trusty guardian of my music for four years, I finally broke down and bought an iPod. I was resistant -- and still am -- simply because iPods are so bloody popular, and because Apple seems so very evil underneath its veneer of coolness. Microsoft is trying to be an evil corporate monster, and that's got its own issues. But Apple is trying to be your best pal, which creeps me out. But, iPods are the only MP3 players on the market that have an alarm clock function, and that's really the only feature that makes any difference to me.

So, when I plugged my shiny new iPod into my computer (after waiting about eight hours for all my WMA formatted music to be converted into MP3 format) the ubiquitous License Agreement popped up. For such a "friendly" company as Apple, the language was decidedly threatening. But this is my favourite passage: (copied directly)

THE iPOD SOFTWARE AND iPOD SOFTWARE UPDATES ARE NOT INTENDED FOR USE IN THE OPERATION OF NUCLEAR FACILITIES, AIRCRAFT NAVIGATION OR COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS, AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL SYSTEMS, LIFE SUPPORT MACHINES OR OTHER EQUIPMENT IN WHICH THE FAILURE OF THE iPOD SOFTWARE OR iPOD SOFTWARE UPDATES COULD LEAD TO DEATH, PERSONAL INJURY, OR SEVERE PHYSICAL OR ENVIRONMENTAL DAMAGE.

Should we be worried that iPods very likely have more sophisticated capabilities than the computers running in most nuclear power plants?

P.S. While trying to download some music videos from iTunes, I was utterly disgusted by the very specific and very restrictive user agreement -- you're allowed to burn up to seven copies of a video, and use it on up to five devices.... But how will they know where you're using it? Have they got some sort of scary Big Brother like software tracking my use of music and videos? I don't want Apple watching my every digital move!

Last July, I had some pretty nasty allergy problems, and the worst asthma since I was a kid. I was convinced I was reacting to the mildew growing on the box-spring of my bed, and I asked my landlord to swap the stinky box-spring for a nice metal bed frame. My allergies seemed to disappear immediately.

But here we are, a year later, and I'm starting to think that mildew was not the only culprit. Luckily my asthma seems to be under control, but the allergies are back with a vengeance. I've been sneezing up a storm, and everything above my neck itches, including the INSIDE of my sinuses. Ugh. Thank goodness for modern medicine -- without allergy pills I'd want to be scratching my eyes out.

Bloody grass pollen.

(sent to Carling Academy Sheffield 16th July 2008)

To Whom it May Concern:

I am writing to thank your security staff for their exemplary conduct at the Goo Goo Dolls concert, 7th July 2008. In the dozens of concerts I have attended over the years throughout the UK and US, I have rarely been treated with such courtesy and professionalism, and your staff are to be commended.

As with most general-admission Goo Goo Dolls shows, there was a group of fans waiting outside the venue from mid-morning to secure places in the front row. Often, we write numbers on our hands to keep track of the order in which we arrived, but there’s never any guarantee that security staff will take these numbers seriously. On one memorable occasion, we were assured that the early queuers would be let into the venue first, only to watch as several sets of doors were opened to admit whoever pushed to the front. On that particular day, the crowd felt chaotic and very unsafe, and having worked in crowd control I was not impressed.

My experience in Sheffield could not have been more different. The person in charge made certain that the front of the queue was let in first, and the staff members were calm, respectful, and well-organised. We were able to walk to the rail rather than running, and the general feeling was orderly and relaxed. The staff at the front of the stage were friendly and helpful, ensuring that rules were followed without being rude or lording over us. All in all, I felt we were in safe hands, which is a rare experience at a rock concert.

Could you please share this letter with your security staff? I would like to let them know that their positive attitude was very much appreciated by myself and other fans, and that they helped us have an enjoyable evening. Too often people are notified about complaints, and not often enough about compliments!

I look forward to attending more concerts at your venue in the future.

Sincerely,

Myshele Goldberg

I love that I don't need a car in this country, and I love that everything's close enough to reach on a train.... They're pretty comfortable, relatively convenient (half an hour walk from my flat), etc. -- but at the moment, I'm starting to get sick of them. I was in Glasgow yesterday, going back today and staying overnight for meetings tomorrow. Sunday I'm down to Sheffield, back on Tuesday, Wednesday down to Newcastle, back on Friday. Stirling and Aberdeen are in my near future, and probably Glasgow at least two or three times a week until I move there. Weekends have become a treat because I'm in Edinburgh for two days in a row and can get some work done, and I'm really looking forward to a time when I can just be in one place for more than two days in a row. Much as I like to think of myself as an adventurous gypsy, I'm not built for all this travelling. Not complaining, just observing. Good to know for future career-planning -- any significant commute is out of the question.

On a vaguely related vein, one of the main lessons of a PhD seems to be multi-tasking. At the moment it's a luxury to devote more than an afternoon at a time to working on one thing. Between the various aspects of the PhD and CHE stuff, I'm constantly switching between tasks that often diverge wildly in their content and required thinking processes. It's a really interesting mental exercise, but pretty exhausting.

I think I'm ready for a vacation.

P.S. And now for a completely unrelated philosophical question. Recycling: whose responsibility is it? Every few days, I hear one of the old drunks in my complex unloading his empty beer bottles into the dumpsters out back. Is it the drunk's fault, for failing to take his bottles to one of the recycling centres (10 minutes walk), or is it the council's fault for not providing more convenient ways to recycle glass? (there's a bin for packaging on the corner, but they say bottle banks are kept out of residential neighbourhoods due to the levels of noise they generate -- but hearing bottles crashing into the regular dumpsters is pretty noisy too) I wonder how much glass is wasted because of this.

Sorcha was my third computer, and my first laptop. It was the last year of the 20th century, and my second year at university. I had just moved into a tiny room that would not accommodate a desktop computer, and I had decided to go abroad for a year, making a laptop a necessity. So I sold my desktop and ordered a new laptop over the internet. At the time, the inernet was still a novelty, along with the idea that lots of computers could be linked together. This was before P2P was illegal, and we gave our computers silly or mythic names so we could share music over the network.

I don't remember exactly why I called my shiny new laptop Sorcha, except that it seemed to be the name she wanted, and it sounded vaguely Scottish. When the box arrived from IBM, it was love at first sight. Sleek, fast, powerful, portable.... This computer represented freedom of movement and the adventures I'd soon embark on. Walking through the airport on my way back to Los Angeles, with a computer bag over my shoulder, I felt grown-up and important. From the very beginning, Sorcha became intertwined with my identity in a way I had not experienced with a desktop.

She accompanied me on my first trip abroad, then back to LA when the loneliness of travelling got to be too much. To fill my days of waiting to leave again, I wrote half a screenplay. When I returned to Scotland, she became my connection to beloved friends back home, and I racked up a £200 phone bill writing e-mails on a dial-up connection. Eventually I made friends in Scotland, and built a rudimentary website to share pictures and stories of my new life.

My final year in LA, I used Sorcha to build my first "real" website, advertising my short-lived goth clothing business. The following summer, I discovered the Goo Goo Dolls, and set out to build the most popular Robby Takac fan website of the time. That autumn, I returned to Scotland again, hoping for a permanent job -- but my dreams of emigration fell apart almost immediately. During those 22 difficult days, Sorcha provided a lifeline to home and a grounding to keep my sanity. She allowed me to express a new sense of purpose when I got back to the States and decided to launch yet another website, Goo Goo Dolls Fans for Peace.

My activism ultimately led me back to Scotland, and Sorcha came along for the ride, despite a failing power supply and dying battery. Her final service was performed during the summer of 2005, displaying a presentation for the last taught module of my masters. When I tried bringing her to the library to take notes for my thesis, she could no longer hold a charge. After many years of faithful service, accompanying me during some of the sweetest and some of the darkest moments of my life, she took a lonely place at the bottom of a drawer.

An impending move to Glasgow has led me to go through those drawers, clearing out the clutter and organizing the rest. But pulling Sorcha out of seclusion gave me pause. What was I to do with this loyal companion? She had shared so many happy memories, and helped me through so many difficult moments. It seemed disrespectful to just throw her away.

So I took her apart. I wanted to know whether she could be fixed, or if any parts could be salvaged. It was an endeavour that took the better part of two days, and I gained new respect for the intricately-formed piece of equipment she was. As I removed one screw after another, it seemed there were puzzles and labyrinths designed to cradle and protect the precious data I entrusted her with. She was a strong guardian.

Ultimately, I rescued the hard drive to see what files are there, but have sent the rest for recycling. It seems fitting that Sorcha should be disassembled and recycled in Edinburgh, the city that provided the original purpose for our time together. Nearly a decade later, when laptops are cheap and common, it's difficult to convey what a precious gift Sorcha brought to my eighteen-year-old self. But my gratitude is deep.

Goodbye, old friend. Thank you.

This afternoon, I had a thought-provoking meeting with my colleague Vérène Nicolas, course coordinator at the Centre for Human Ecology. Part of the conversation was about the importance (and difficulty) of starting from the heart in work for social change, because if we ignore our emotions, we reproduce the dominant power structures we're trying to transform. By transforming ourselves, we can be more effective in our work to transform the world. In a culture of isolation and competition, deeply connecting with other people is a radical act.

Later in the evening, I went to the launch of Alastair McIntosh's new book, Hell and High Water: Climate Change, Hope, and the Human Condition, in which he covers many similar topics. One of Alastair's recurring themes is spirituality as "that which gives life," resisting the aspects of our culture that are fundamentally built on death. As with most CHE-related events, I felt inspired and nourished by the presentations and the conversations afterwards.

Still, for unrelated reasons, my journey back to Edinburgh was full of confusion and worry. When I got home, I changed my facebook status to "Myshele is uncertain" and had a long chat with my mom (which of course made me feel better). I should have gone to sleep, but I spent some time poking around the internet.

At 2:00 am, I got a new e-mail, announcing that a clip from the Goo Goo Dolls' latest song had been posted on their website (if you want to listen, go to googoodolls.com, skip the intro, and it's the first song in the automatic player).

The song is called "Real." These are the lyrics of the 30-second clip: (edit 16th July with corrected lyrics)

You read the news
It turns you inside out
And everybody feels the same as you

In uncertain times
Uncertain rules apply
Caught in the blind spot of fear and love

Can you feel real like you are?
Can you feel your light
The way I feel your light?

And the biggest chance that we can take
Is open arms and wide awake
Hold me now
So we can feel alive
Tonight

Now, I'm not kooky enough to think I have some cosmic line to the Goo Goo Dolls -- but the timing is uncanny, and I'm deeply grateful for it, even if it's just a coincidence. There are a lot of people working for social change in one way or another these days, on all different levels of society, all over the world. I'd like to think that we're all tapping into something greater than ourselves, something about what it means to be alive, communicated in the common metaphors of humanity. Maybe we're all drinking from the same well.

It's these kinds of moments that really give me hope that the world is changing, even when it seems overflowing with reasons for despair. When "mainstream" musicians like the Goo Goo Dolls are speaking the same language as visionaries like Vérène and Alastair, something is shifting. It feels like we're doing something right.

(tweaked for feed readers)

Tuesday was the university Research Day, where people showed off their work through posters with various levels of creativity. Though dripping with the effluent of university hierarchy, it was still a fun day to hang out with fellow PhD students and see what other folks are up to. Our department was well-represented, and two of our PhD students won prizes! (out of four across the whole university) You'll see why below....


Claire (PhD student)


David (dept. head)


Kim (PhD student)


Me (PhD student)


Teresa (PhD student)


Tommy (PhD student)


Will and David (lecturer and dept. head)


Our big winners, Claire and Kim!!

Didn't get a photo of Colin with the Snakes and Ladders themed poster because he was "working." Pfft. ;-)