Mostly research. But some knitting, too.
-I need a whole new mitten. in a month. I know that sounds easy but these mittens are HARD. very hard.
-I should make two pairs of fingerless mitts... in 2 weeks. Shoot.
-need to finish that hat but since it's bulky I'm not really worried about it. I know I can finish it in one evening
-the big secret knitting surprise this year is probably going to get pushed off to next year. This... is not really a surprise for me. I've traded it for... um.... stuff for myself. Oops? I guess that's how knitting goes sometimes. I'm not too worried about it--it's not that exciting of a project.
what I want to be working on: a pair of fingerless mitts (for myself of course); a stripey shawl (for myself); and self-striping socks (for myself--never mind the fact that I have two lovely pairs of socks for myself ON THE NEEDLES already...). Oh and I want to spin some fiber. Not even sure what I'm going to spin next but I want to be spinning. While watching Dr. Who. and eating popcorn.
It's possible the short days and the lots-of-work is getting to me.
I am not sure why these two lists don't correspond. The two pairs of fingerless mitts are exciting to me! the hat and mittens for family members is super exciting as well! I can't wait to see how happy everyone is.
most likely I just want a more instantaneous completion. I want to sit down and knit for an hour, or two hours, and have FOs falling from my fingertips (as opposed to WIPs lingering for months). Instant gratification, that's what I crave :)
Okay, a list of things I need to work on that are NOT knitting. I can kitchener the first mitten shut and cast on the second mitten when I get home/before I go to bed tonight, and I undoubtedly will.
1) agq is okay, esp in log-log format. I need to make the plots prettier
a) label axes, figure out units
b) make axes neater format
c) plot and save each one with title of quasar on top
d) overplot all of them on one graph and see if they all form two sequences
e) fit w(theta) to each of them, make sure gamma is ~1.77 or 0.77 or -0.77, whatever it is supposed to be
f) if I can fit them, can I find the Agq that makes the fit the best? if I can do that for each of them, then
g) create histogram of Agq with "dustiness" as x axis
h) figure out which quasars are obscured, unobscured, other type
2) work on agq->bgq program
a) make list of things needed for bgq
b) look up gamma functions
3) read older papers
a) find out what information we are deriving, what it actually gives us
b) read up on correlations, cross correlations, etc
c) see if I can get the connection to galaxy evolution on a broader scale
d) see if I can get the connection to the effect of z/point in history
4) read newer papers that have done something similar
a) find out what sort of diagnostics people are using NOWADAYS to report
b) fit my stuff onto those diagnostics
c) figure out what sorts of conclusions can be of interest
5) write paper
a) do a quick draft/outline
b) work on intro
c) work on methods/data
d) re-read thesis proposal (written version)--pretty good place to start
6) submit first paper
a) fix numbers
b) fix text to numbers
c) get Mark to talk to Jason
d) call margrethe/email her again
e) look up submission guidelines and get submittin'!
7) read jason + ric's paper
a) give comments
b) make it clear shouldn't be an author on this unless I contribute SOMETHING significant to paper changes *sigh* which I won't be able to
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Missing
I spent 5 years as an undergraduate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
When I left for grad school, I fled south because I was sick of winter, of overbearing winter that took the heart of the year and left everything else a brief flame. Summer and fall were too precious there. Spring was a week of rain in mid May.
There were things I loved about winter. Standing out in the cold after being in the hot building all night, with the sky filled with orange and purple clouds and the snow coming down softly and hugely. The city noises muffled with pillows of white down. The cold air on my cheeks, the cold air in my throat, the clouds of my breath rising and rising. The silence as the snow fell. The look of christmas lights in the snow.
But for the most part I have not missed Madison. I miss people: friends who changed my life, apartment mates and housemates and roommates who made coming home an unutterable joy and who formed a new family around me like a shield when things were really hard. The professors who garnered my respect and opened my way into the world of knowledge, who never hurt me, who never judged me. Colleagues in classes and people who I was able to find all sorts of happiness with. But not the city, except maybe the walk by the lake in late summer and autumn, the gathering quietness of the water, the way the ducks begin to speak to you while invisible on the shore, the way the wind moved in the leaves.
Today I did miss it, one thing in particular: I remember in my last two years at Madison that I could scarcely walk two blocks on campus without encountering someone known to me, who'd stop and say hello. There was one particular day that I made a quick walk from the physics building to state street and met someone on every block. And they were all different people--Pearl from my first women's studies courses, who was in band and whom I never would have met or known in the normal course of things but who was so friendly and full of joy that we were friends almost instinctively--Peter from my lab, on his way back from lunch--a student I'd tutored in physics two years ago--Mona, who was on my floor my first year in the dorms--a professor I'd had who knew me by name. It was such a warm feeling, a feeling of belonging and owning. That I was part of this place, and this place was part of me. And the blue sky gleamed through the yellow gingko tree, and I didn't ever want to let it go.
When I left for grad school, I fled south because I was sick of winter, of overbearing winter that took the heart of the year and left everything else a brief flame. Summer and fall were too precious there. Spring was a week of rain in mid May.
There were things I loved about winter. Standing out in the cold after being in the hot building all night, with the sky filled with orange and purple clouds and the snow coming down softly and hugely. The city noises muffled with pillows of white down. The cold air on my cheeks, the cold air in my throat, the clouds of my breath rising and rising. The silence as the snow fell. The look of christmas lights in the snow.
But for the most part I have not missed Madison. I miss people: friends who changed my life, apartment mates and housemates and roommates who made coming home an unutterable joy and who formed a new family around me like a shield when things were really hard. The professors who garnered my respect and opened my way into the world of knowledge, who never hurt me, who never judged me. Colleagues in classes and people who I was able to find all sorts of happiness with. But not the city, except maybe the walk by the lake in late summer and autumn, the gathering quietness of the water, the way the ducks begin to speak to you while invisible on the shore, the way the wind moved in the leaves.
Today I did miss it, one thing in particular: I remember in my last two years at Madison that I could scarcely walk two blocks on campus without encountering someone known to me, who'd stop and say hello. There was one particular day that I made a quick walk from the physics building to state street and met someone on every block. And they were all different people--Pearl from my first women's studies courses, who was in band and whom I never would have met or known in the normal course of things but who was so friendly and full of joy that we were friends almost instinctively--Peter from my lab, on his way back from lunch--a student I'd tutored in physics two years ago--Mona, who was on my floor my first year in the dorms--a professor I'd had who knew me by name. It was such a warm feeling, a feeling of belonging and owning. That I was part of this place, and this place was part of me. And the blue sky gleamed through the yellow gingko tree, and I didn't ever want to let it go.
Monday, November 4, 2013
stupid sore wrist
I'm going to have to take it easy on the holiday knitting. My wrist is really giving me some troubles. This is why I don't knit stuffed things--they tend to take it out of me pretty bad.
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