the saturday shout-outs!

first off: big love to the good family relations with penn state university credentials. you know who you are. i read this morning that psu isn't allowing alcohol at tail-gates????!!!!!! is nothing sacred any longer? one of my best family-related memories is from the 1985 or 1986 psu-pitt football game. the one where pitt beat psu, in large part due to a really weak holding or illegal blocking call against penn state that was completely on the other side of the field and had no bearing to the play. remember? anyhow, after the game, my psu relatives were having a tailgate. and they were probably a few years younger than i am now. i remember the food, the soda, my cousins singing songs and goofing off, and seeing, for the first time, a blow-up doll. now, now, don't go all reactive on me. the doll was dressed up and in pitt colors and the joke was obviously not meant for me. and, in the honor of all great adult humor, i didn't get it until i was a sophomore in college and, walking down trousdale to a usc/fucla game, i saw someone had done the same in bruin colors. and that's when the light went on in my head! so i send big love and good memories and sadness at the gutless, heartless criminializing of what once was a great weekend tradition. ergo, getting trashed at a football game.

much props to fellow trojans. me and euge (geography '99) were ready to drive to fayetteville to see the usc/arkansas game today. until we discovered that it's 560 miles away. and his paper isn't done. and i just drove that two weeks ago.

keen love and peace to drew l. of miami, fl. burning man?!!! really?!!! did you hear that the bonfire releases over 100-tonnes of greenhouse gases alone (not to mention any other burnables that one might wish to um... burn whilst there). and am i wrong in thinking that 1) it's a clothing-optional party and 2) i knew you'd get there one day?

restful peace and buddhist patient adoration to the clan l. of erie, pa. no internet (well, reliable internet that i have to pay for) for a week still. have no fear. we're already set up with the algorithm that models my gpa in a pre/post wow-world. the hockey-stick curve got nothing on me!

finally, big ??? love to texas a&m university. why ??? love? well, 1) they open today against the citadel (a div 1-aa school with "no passing game" according to the paper) and they're not favored by 50 points. that's a total ???. and 2) they don't give +/- on their grades here. anything above 90 is an A, anything 80-89 is a B, and so on and so forth. so you can get a 89.778 average and someone can get a 99.778 and you both score an A. that's a total ??? or as dr. mav of guam, guam would say, "WTF"???

beat the razorbacks!

the rules of undergrad/grad life (not what you think, d-mike!)

so it's saturday and i'm proud of three (3) things:

thing the first: that i made it through my first week of school unscathed, more or less prepared for class each day, and still on top of demands and commitments to my time.

thing the second: that i made it to the gym three times through said first week of school. unscathed. see "demands and commitments" above.

thing the third: that i know when to use "its" and "it's". see "more or less prepared" above.

it's a funny thing, really, how time's perspective (as opposed to conceptive) ebbs and flows depending on a variety of factors, some of which are controllable and others, like a meandering "guest" presentation on meso-scale farming modelling in developing countries, are quite well beyond your grasp. por ejemplo: by tuesday evening, me and euge were lamenting that it felt like thursday night yet we hadn't even gotten halfway through the week. now technically, since i have no class on fridays, i was at the hump, as it were, but i digress. the point being: wednesday, thursday, and friday were an absolute blur! and now it's saturday and i'm sure that there's college football on and i'm equally sure that there's a pile of papers in my bag that need a'reading. are these two interests mutually exclusive, kind of like the role of farming cooperatives and "the state's" ability to provide infrastructure in economically marginal lands for the greater production and profitiability of soy bean farmers? we shall see!

the goose's great idea of the week: abiding by a calendar. i don't think it's going to last, but i've been punctual for a whole 5 days (well, actually 4. i did come into the office at 10am on friday... but as mentioned above, by then my week was over..) but having a calendar is fun. it provides you a multitude of opportunities to say things like, "well, i'll have to check my schedule." or "maybe. i think i'm free, but i might not be." or "there's no way i'm going to that meeting. my calendar says it starts at 9am on friday and i'm booked for 'stealing someone's wi-fi connection.'"

(ooh! i love the grammatical punctualness! apostraphied it's and double-quotation marks goodness!)

on to today's final thought: in undergraduate life, you spend most (read: "all") of your time in/around your dorm, hanging out with friends, killing time, doing a bit of work, reading, watching tv, and planning your weekend.

in ph.d.-graduate life, you spend all (read: "all") of your time in/around your office, hanging out with friends, killing time, doing a bit of work, reading, watching youtube.com, and planning your weekend. the difference in experience is enormous! to clarify, as several of my loyal readers can attest, graduate school can be a bear at times, and apart from the stories i've heard about the first year of law or med school, the stress and obligations of the ph.d. program are ratched up several notches over any other single experience you've had. my typical (read: "not friday") day begins around 7am, when i wake up, make some coffee and generally get myself out the door for work by 8am. i'm one of the last people to get there. when not in class or the library (a tuesday/thursday routine of mine where i go to the 3rd floor, find the dewey decimal section for SH 105 (wetlands) or SQ 244 (fisheries), and check out a couple of books. they allow us 99 books at a time and, by the time christmas rolls around, i expect to have a full academic library in my office...) anyhow: when not in class, i spend the majority of my time at my desk, in an office with no windows. it would be claustrophobic (at times, it still is), but with everyone else there, many of whom are in similar stages of academic development and profitability, there's a kind of comraderie that develops. it's no surprise to me or euge that we can spend an astonishing 15 hours side by side and 1) not realize it, or 2) think that it's going to get mean and nasty one day from being in such proximity. there's work and there's not-work. and beautifully, in graduate life, they are mutually exclusive. now if only we could figure out a way to get them more in balance...

the warm fuzzy feeling that comes with...

...the elation that comes with seeing a furniture delivery guy stopping outside your house. and only 1.5 hours beyond the end of the 4-hour window for delivery. on the 3rd official attempt to deliver the furniture. 14 days of floor sleeping no more! scratch one more from the hordes of the impoverished out there who bed on straw or mats or under the stars on the savannah (actually, that one sounds good! sign me up!) progress has come to bryan, texas. and i answered the door. for a nice queen-sized sleigh bed, accompanying chest of drawers, side table, and portrait mirror. the extravagence and indulgence of all this! i'm so happy.

and did i mention the monkey chest? that's right!

i may need eugene to drag me out of my room from now on.

sole downer of the day (apart from the necessity of sitting through 3 delivery periods before finally getting the stuff delivered): the room is a bit narrow for all the furniture. ergo, there is no room for a desk. i think.

finally: bonus points to my history lecture and lector today. you know you've stumbled across a truly formidable mind when a professor paints a 1.5 hour portrait of the rise and ontology of geography as an academic discipline (not my word, 2006) with scarcely a glance at their notes. the lecture took us to dizzying heights, bringing in long-dead (???) philosophers like some sort of intellectual cameo appearance, boiling down words to their roots, both greek and familiar, stirring in an au jus of wit, and bringing it all together in literally the last minute of class. it was crazy. my only thought after: "we need him on our bar quiz team."

wednesday's dinner (as euge slowly goes crazy over a publishing deadline): pepperoni pizza with sliced carrots and celery.

How to Tell If You're In Grad School...

...Or Just Living A Bachelor's Life (with exclamation point scoring!!!)

Do you eat leftover spaghetti for more than 3 meals in a row, including breakfast?
Bachelor's Life!
Do you sleep on dirty laundry because your furniture hasn't arrived yet?
Bachelor's Life!!
Do you consider bacon & eggs & beer a dinner?
Bachelor's Life!!!!!!!!
Do you shrug off wearing a wrinkled shirt?
Bachelor's Life!
Do you sit on a porch swing in the evening having a beer discussing the day's events?
Bachelor's Life!
Do the day's events center around a rather terrifying warning against professional plagiarism?
Ph.D. Student Life!!!!!!
Are you moving peanut butter, jelly, coffee, gum, soda, and a mini fridge into your office so that you don't have to go home?
Ph.D. Student Life!!
Do you get surprised to discover that the sun's gone down before you leave your office because your office has no windows and you've been reading 100 pages of journal articles all day?
Ph.D. Student Life!!!!
Do you watch movies two scenes at a time because you have other things to do at night, like read or sleep?
Ph.D. Student Life!!!

How'd you score?

Odds & Ends: As part of my "Goose's Blog Rules" I promised that i will not discuss academic events here, but I do have to comment two things about the "consequences of plagiarism" warning we received yesterday (Farrell, pers.comm.). 1) The temperature in the classroom was a cool 76 according to the thermostat. After the minute-long warning, the thermostat registered 78 (Goose, unpubl. data). 2) The source of warming was most likely due to the elevated blood pressures and anxiety of the 19 students in the class (Farrell, pers.comm.).

Supposedly I get my furniture tomorrow! That would make 13 days of sleeping on a floor/futon mattress. Here is, for the loyal readers who know about my affinity for "night terrors", is a laundry list of nightmares I've had since arriving: dreamt the ceiling fan was going to fall on me (requiring me to move against the wall to sleep), dreamt the ceiling fan was a pirate's "X marks the spot" and that I was buried treasure, dreamt that I got electrocuted by a loose wire that brushed against the floor (this may not have been a dream. i'm still not sure...), dreamt that a lizard was dancing on my chest (the old "my arm's asleep and twitched" dream), and the "i slept through class" followed by waking up and running to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only to realize that it was 3:38am. On a Sunday morning...

Today's Shout Outs!

First off, big love to the big bro, the sis-in-law, and nieces². Drs. Shamus and Elisabeth C., along with the super cuteness that is Skylar and Arianna are settling in well in far-off Guam. But its good having a bro on the other side of the globe. Being a day ahead, he always calls with the day’s lotto numbers. We plan on making a killing. I will be seeing them again come Thanksgiving, as I travel west to see little bro Lt. Jeff R. of Honolulu, HI, formerly of Annapolis, MD, and originally hailing from New London, CT, get married. Its going to be a gala affair and, thanks to Dr. Jerry W. of Los Angeles, CA, and his darling family, the W. of Los Angeles and Riverside, CA, I will be attending the USC-Cal game on said weekend. Anyone of the West-Side contigent interested in going out for a beer or breakfast at the Pantry is officially invited to give me a shout-out.

Special thanks to the love that is Clayt and Kim and Atticus L. of Erie, PA. No thanks to the introduction to WarCraft, which Clayt seems intent on being my social and academic downfall. At least I know I have an attic to move to should I fall on my face here following 9-hour sessions of “running around”. But their place is beautiful and its so much fun to see friends who are transforming into world-class parents and neighbors. To think 5 years ago that Clayt had landscaping talent while we drank gin and tonics would have been unthinkable. But there you go. He even has a gorgeous koi pond. And compliments of compliments, everything about them, their home, their neighborhood, and their goof of a big black dog reminded me of where I grew up. It was truly special and I can’t wait to see them again.

Big shout-out to the St. Croix Ex-Pats living in Northern California. You knows who's you is. Come to Los Angeles in November!

The How You Know You’re In a Texas Summer List: You know it’s hot when your lip balm melts down to a liquid and pours out as you open the tin. As far as I can recall, that never happened in St. Croix, Los Angeles, or any other place I visited. Even Hell, Michigan.

You know it’s hot when you’re shopping for indoor soccer shoes because the intramural sports won’t take the liability for having outdoor games until the winter.

You know it’s hot when, while shopping for said shoes, some Texas teenager is arguing with his dad over his desire to have a pair of white soccer boots because, “the field is like 115 and black cleats would get even hotter.” I’m still trying to decide if he has a valid point or is just a lemming like every other teenager who's trying to be fashionable. Of course, as any real soccer player would agree, your boots gotta be dark. White is tres' ges.

You know it’s hot when you go and buy a windshield reflector and it only lower the inside car temp to 130°.

You know it’s hot when you justify jogging at 7:30pm because it’s cooled down to 95°.

Final Thoughts on Texans: Not to sound out-of-place and foreign to this lifestyle, but I’m always put off when a sports apparel store has nearly 25% of floor space devoted to hunting and hunting accessories. And outside, they’re having a big sale on deer hunting platforms and baiters. Maybe that’s where I can find my Skippy.

Texas In the U.N.?

The Lone Star State, Or Why Texas Is A Foreign Country

"A good way to think of graduate school at Texas A&M is to think of it as a study abroad program. And if you don't know what I mean yet, you will. Just head on over to the Wal-Mart." --Courtney, 2nd-year Master's Student, Oceanography.

There’s so many more tales from my 2000 mile drive from Connecticut to Texas, but I don’t want to bore you here. Instead, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you about life as I live it here in Texas. Mind you, I’ve been here for only 10 full days. Class starts tomorrow and I spent all last week in meetings. And I’ve yet to see the thermometer drop below 88 degrees. Even at night. So I drove all the way from Connecticut to Texas, dropping in to see friends briefly in Pennsylvania (more on the Clayt L. Clan of Erie, PA in a bit) and then high-tailed it another 1550 miles in two days to get to the glorious 105° temperatures that is College Station, Texas at 8:00pm. The drive, especially from Texarkana, Texas, can confidently be termed "rural". There’s no question that Texas A&M University is situated pretty much in the middle of nowhere. But it’s fun to drive the only foreign car in a 100-mile radius when it’s long country roads. So I pulled onto Texas Avenue, turned right onto University Avenue and decided to roll the windows down, turn off the A/C and enjoy the sights and smells of Texas. A brave, but hopeless idea.

I soaked in the atmosphere for a good 15 seconds, before rolling the windows back up and turning the A/C on again. Its not that it smells, but if you’ve ever held a blow dryer to your face and discovered that you don’t really like the feeling of hot, dry air on your skin, then you know how I felt. After a bit of a detour (deciding that my place was on the south side of campus when its actually on the north side), I found my place and my dear friend and new roommate Eugene F. of Bryan, TX, formerly from Los Angeles, CA and originally from Cork, Ireland. How I decided that he didn’t live off a side street of Ireland Drive is beyond me. How I decided that his house was diametrically opposite the bar district is also beyond me. But there you go. So I took a nice scenic trip through utterly boring and unimaginative developments. But I did make it there. We caught up the way Irish boys do and moved my stuff in. Having been touched that he was waiting for me outside when I pulled up, I quickly discovered that he was out-of-doors from necessity. If it was 100 outside, it was at least 110 inside. With no breeze. In fact, as I sit here writing this, I’m sweating like a mob informant. A fat mob informant. A fat mob informant sitting in a 110° house wearing a winter coat. So thank God for A/C in the bed room!

But the initial experience of student life has been good. If only I could figure out these Texans, I’d be all set. For example: everyone drives a truck here. Big ones. Loud ones. And yes, I’ve seen gun racks. Which is fine, because when there are 2500 people at the Wal-Mart (the largest I’ve ever seen or been in), its easier to pick out my car, Claus. The Wal-Mart was chaos. Going through the shampoo and soap aisle, I actually queued up behind about 5 other people and moved forward in step with them as we searched out our favorite bath and body products. The variety and array of hair-care products meant for "blondes" was mind-boggling. Of course, the Wal-Mart had a gun section, not just a counter, and believe you me when I say that I could have queued up there too. Fortunately, I’m a pacifist fly fisher. After exactly 1 hour at the Wal-Mart, I was stocked up on all my student school supply needs. I got highlighters and 4-color pens (the secret to my success), binders, loose-leaf paper, garbage cans and garbage bags, a bath rug and lip balm (more on that in a bit), and eye glasses. That’s right. I bought glasses. The truth is, my eyes have been hurting when I sit at the computer too long. Or read too much. And I hear there’s a lot of both when it comes to grad school. How I managed to preserve my 20/10 vision through Yale is probably not something to brag about any more. The jig, as they say, is up. But they’re nice little reading glasses, nothing more than hands-free magnifying glasses that are perfect for the occasion. And should I still be able to read road signs a half mile away come summer, I know I spent my $7.99 well.

After Wal-Mart, I went to the HEB grocery store. After 2 years on St. Croix, and as much as I love the Plaza West Mart and Plaza East and the deli counter at the Schooner Bay Market and the we're-open-on-holidays of the Food Town, I have to say HEB is going to be a god-send. I was overwhelmed. They have at least 50 types of sliced bread, a deli counter, a tortilla bakery on site, cute girls giving out free samples, two full aisles of sausages (I wish I were kidding), and self-check out. If only they had Skippy Peanut Butter (I definitely wish I were kidding). For those in the know, my glorious frame is largely built on the magnificence and munificence of Skippy Super-Chunk. I buy it by the ton. I buy two jars so that I don’t accidentally run out. I buy the biggest jar they sell. I score and compare grocery stores by whether or not they stock large jars of Super-Chunk. I’m always disappointed when I discover that a grocery store only cares the boutique sized chunky but the super-sized jar of creamy. I’ve found it in Nice, France, Italy, and Cairns, Australia (in the international food aisle). I’ve kept the distributor to St. Croix in business. In short, I love the Skippy Super Chunk. How the HEB doesn’t have it is something that may very well force me, despite its shiny newness and colorful rows of fresh fruits and veggies reasonably priced to sell, free gimmes and cute girls at said gimme counters, to shop elsewhere. I hear there’s an Albertsons. Stay tuned.

After I got over the shock of having to purchase Jif Brand Peanut Butter (an unworthy alternate), I decided to go check out a few furniture stores since my bedroom was a bit "unfurnished", something I didn't recall when I visited in April. Probably all the boxes Eugene kept in there. Anyhow, I found a nice little bed and bureau set, and set up a delivery and was very happy with how nice the lady was and how professional the movers sounded. It was not to last. First, they rescheduled the delivery from Wednesday to Friday, meaning I had to sleep on the futon mattress, on the floor, for 6 more days instead of 4. Then, they gave me a 4-hour window Friday afternoon when I was supposed to be at a meeting for new Teaching Assistants. Then they didn't show up.

If I ever own my own company, I promise to offer Grade-A, Peerless Customer Service. I called the store at 5pm to get the dispatch number so I could get a good idea when they'd arrive. The dispatch number, of course, wouldn't accept a long-distance call from a Virgin Islands' number. Nor could they call me, either (these things I learned on Saturday). They didn't have a map to the house. How that's possible is beyond me. I can print out a map to any house in the country. You'd think movers would either A) be completely familar with their coverage area, streets, and neighborhoods, or B) go to maps.com and print out a map with directions. They chose C) quit looking and take the furniture back to Houston so they could make it to the bar by 8pm. By 7pm (the end of the delivery window), I was a bit nervous. By 7:30, a bit agitated. By 8pm, both me and Eugene (who has no faith in delivery guys) were ready to explode. After all, it was the gala Welcome Party for all the new grad students in the Geography program, and these tardy deliverymen were delaying the margarita goodness. So we left. When I left the party at 11pm, there was no message on my phone. No note left on the door when I got back to the house. The Customer Service Score was lacking.

I was awakened the next morning at 7:30am when my phone rang. "The movers!" I thought as I answered the phone. But Alas! Twas Not Them. So I waited, sitting in the steadily-heating house until noon. At that point I went back to the showroom to lodge my complaint and get some satisfaction for all the garbage I had just gone through. The lady was apologetic enough, but I was in no way satisfied when I found out that they wouldn't be able to deliver until Wednesday. So that's 14 days of sleeping on the floor before I get a bed. I'm betting that 1) they'll get lost again, and 2) they'll schedule the delivery for when I'm in class. I seriously might buy some balloons and signs to give them landmarks all the way to my place. On the other hand, they did give me a nice hardwood jewelery box with a hand-carved monkey on the top that is, despite that description, quite nice and perfect. Although, at this moment, I'd give it back to have had a bed before the first day of school.

Other than the getting settled, I’ve had quite a good time here in College Station. When not sweating profusely, Eugene and I have gone to the local pubs and enjoyed a pint or two. We share an office (O&M 803A), and even share TA times (MW 1-3pm). We've been dubbed "trouble" by more than one group of classmates and faculty. We debated the sensibility of spending some of our shared rent money on cable television (only because it comes with the cable modem, you see…), and gone for nice little jogs around campus in 98° heat. At 7:30pm. The campus loop is almost exactly 6 miles, and should I keep it up for the semester, I will probably be able to not donate most of my dress pants to charity. We've also come up with plans to save even more money (say it with me: "brew your own beer") and make money (say it with me: "sell your own beer"). Of course, it's ideas like those that are so completely loony and impossible that make being a student fun. Will we ever brew? Goodness no. But as a concept, it's quite dazzling to the brain.

And so, until then, I send my thoughts and warm wishes to everyone. To those I managed to see and those I wish I could have, there’s a futon here with your name on it. Just give us 24 hours notice. And pack your undies in a freezer.

The End of the Journals

The End of the Journals

It has recently come to my attention that my journal submissions, so beloved by some, enjoyed by several, loathed by scores, and instantaneously blocked by someone who shall remain nameless, has gone absent for several past months. Perhaps since December? I can’t actually recall. So starting school seems the perfect opportunity to switch over to a blog-style journal.

Why a blog? Why not? It does seem a bit self-important, and not a whole unlike publishing your own diary of thoughts and deeds. For people you know all-too-well to read. Or not. But I like feeling a little self-important, and if posting in a blog helps me develop a normal routine as I start my Ph.D., all the better. At the very least, I don't think it will be my downfall. That's what the rest of the internet is for.

Now I know that all blogs are centered around a few themes. What's mine? We haven't quite figured out, but chances are they'll take on the tone of a great story or happening. Life is exciting, and it should be captured! But a sampling of posts will probably take on classlife, grad life, trips, and, should Kinky Friedman get elected governor, politics. Anyhoo...

I still feel a bit whelmed (we're not sure if it is over- or under- at this point... but I digress), as I close the chapter to my life on St. Croix and open up what looks like a doozy of one here in College Station, Texas. Although I've been here only 10 days, my arrival here has felt a lot like reading a really good book but beginning to feel tired and so you thumb through the next chapter only to find its about 35 pages longer than any other chapter and that the font has suddenly shrunk to 7pt. and the author made the executive decision to write in Tagalog. Not that learning Tagalog is a bad thing.

But first, let’s recap a zesty last 6 months on St. Croix, a place I like to describe as “having drank their Kool-Aid.” So hopefully, once this stage is complete, I can return to St. Croix’s lush green shores, sparkling clear water, and all manners of people best described as extras from The Island of Misfit Toys, where I can take up residence as Dr. Misfit in Chief, Ph.D. The Big Dr. MC. I’m all aglow. Even now.

Most importantly, the last six months on St. Croix saw the conclusion of my work at UVI. In what I’d describe as a slow, painless death by boredom, my amount of work dwindled as I became less intrigued to start up new projects. Eventually, I was diving nearly every day or inputting the data from said dives. Terribly painless. I even picked up a side job (number 4 for those counting) as resident sediment expert for the dredging project at the world-famous dive site of Frederiksted Pier. If there’s one thing that’s totally innate and expected in the manner of human behavior, it’s that we love to ruin a good thing. Fortunately, despite all attempts otherwise, the dredging has been largely benign to the diving under the pier, and the nearby reefs seem unaffected by the industriousness. Of course, this does not mean the reefs are in any great spot. Following the big bleaching in the fall, a swath of reefs was hit hard by some coral disease. And although I am not citing any other studies, I can honestly proffer this point: Disease is a bad thing.

Apart from the life of the researcher, everything wound down nicely on St. Croix. I played piano at the Buccaneer Resort every Wednesday night almost until the day I left, managed to hold onto my bartending shift (and more importantly, the free beer) until the day before I left, and the dredging project is mercifully dragging on, providing me with a heady burst of income while I move into my abode. And then of course, there was the sailing trip to St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

Rather than bore you with the details, all I want to say is this: if you like sailing, or like the ocean, or like beaches, or like hanging out with friends in new places, or traveling at a leisurely pace, I highly recommend chartering a sail boat to a picturesque destination and make a time of it. Sailing for 8 days with 9 others, I explored and enjoyed the many, many sights of St. Vincent, Bequia (BECK-way), Mustique, and St. Lucia. Among the highlights: climbing Petit Piton on St. Lucia (the very famous mountain is instantly recognizable and a bear to climb. Straight up the cliff walls holding on to roots of trees, branches, rock outcroppings, and strategically-placed rope and lines that guide you up the trickier sections. It was a 3.5 hour climb and descent, and about a 3.5 day recovery. If you do go, I am honor bound to recommend Marlon Brando as your guide. Just go to Soufriere Town (Soufriere means Sulphur in the Air!) and ask around. He’s quite perfect for the part of the island guide. Even hikes barefoot. Another highlight: partying at Basil’s Bar on Mustique. Famous for the famous people, Mustique is essentially a private island with a bar owned by Mick Jagger. Naturally, he wasn’t there but it wasn’t necessary to see the lead Stone for a good time, especially when 18 Swedes are taking over the DJ booth and playing their Euro-Techno dance music. Another highlight: Wallilabou, St. Vincent. A fun town name to say, if you can call it a town. More importantly, it’s the set for the town in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. And though we looked far and wide, neither Johnny Depp nor Keira Knightley were there. Though we did meet a guy named “Shadow”, who apparently made his money as a kung-fu blackploitation movie star back in the 1970s (definitely get "Velvet Smooth" in your queue on Netflix, if you haven't already...). Shadow moved back to St. Vincent to be near his mom, and is drinking and smoking himself to death at his private bar called “Pirates Retreat”. What does he drink? Very Strong Rum and Coke. And that, dear readers, is both a type of rum and a descriptor of how he pours it. It’s very high proof and rather dangerously intoxicating. But when you and 6 of your friends are the only people in town, he throws a mean party. Mixed with fruit punch, and it becomes a "rum whammy", which, given my short time with a language coach to teach me how to pronounce the letter "R" (I'd have been a bad pirate at 7...), becomes an extremely tough drink to order. "May I have another whum whammy, siwh? *hiccup and a smile*

And of course, there was the sailing and the friends. Perfect time. Already, I hear plans of doing the British Virgin Islands over New Years. I’m ready for more. And should that not pan out, I'm not above writing a summer research proposal where a 50' Beneteau is an essential research/dive vessel. For anyone who might think otherwise, I humbly present for evidence: Living in beautiful, cosmopolitan Cairns, Australia for 4 months.

The Love Affair of Texas

...And welcome to my blog! We feel that this medium, already over-used by millions, is ready for one more self-important dose of "life as i live it." So welcome! Hurray!

Time in Texas: 10 days
Average Daily High: 99.9 F
Average Overnight Low: 77.3 F

Class begins tomorrow. More stories to follow. --Goose