Chunky's Alaska Trip

They Can't Take that Away from Me

2008-03-23T18:14:00.002-08:00

Alright, it has been awhile since I have written in this blog, but I have become so enraged over an incident that I felt it worthy to write! It's a complete dismissal of the first law of laundry etiquette entitled "Don't touch my shit!" Every Sunday seems to be laundry day for the entire dormitory. It's like one of those last weekend errands. Something you need to do but don't want to do, and you don't have time during the week to do it. Thus Sunday it becomes next to impossible to do your laundry in the Bartlett Hall basement. Unfortunately and against my better judgment, I was among the procrastinators of the weekend, and I left my laundry for Sunday afternoon. I lugged my laundry bag down the flights of stairs to eerie basement. A man had just gotten off of the elevator with his duffel bag turned laundry bag. We nearly collided at the laundry door. Since he had his key to the laundry room ready to go (mine was buried in my pocket because I was carrying detergent and an awkward laundry bag with no handles down stairs, not living the cushy life within an elevator with a handle-friendly duffel bag!), I moved out the way to let him open the door. I think it would have been rude on my part to stand there awkwardly fumbling for my key making him wait there. As we entered the laundry room, there was only one washing machine available. Like the perfect gentlemen, he took it for himself without muttering a word. Defeated, I returned to my room with the intention of trying again later. This was a usual occurrence, so I wasn't too surprised or upset for that matter. About an hour later, I returned to find two washers available. What luck? I loaded my clothes into both machines, set them for thirty minutes, and returned to my dorm room with a skip in my step. I had defeated the odds and found a machine on a Sunday afternoon. Now, when I do my laundry, I am very attentive. I don't leave my clothes in dryer for an hour after they've completed their cycle. I time myself very precisely. Thus after 30 minutes, I returned to the basement in hopes that luck would prevail, and a dryer would be waiting for me. I knew it might be an epic battle, so I brought a book with me in order to claim my dryer stake when the opportunity presented itself. When you enter the laundry room, you can immediately see the multitude of dryers on the wall facing you. They are front-loading dryers with what I assume is plexiglass covers, so it's easy to determine the ones being used. The washers are on the opposite wall and require you to fully enter the room to see if they are available. When I first entered, to my dismay, I saw no available dryer. However, some of them had stopped their spinning, and I imagined that the owners would soon be down to collect their clean, dry clothes. I decided to then stick around and wait for a dryer to become available. When I fully entered the room though, I saw a pile of wet clothes placed on one of the washers I was using. It wasn't only a pile of wet clothes, it was a pile of MY wet clothes!! Immediately, I welled with anger. (Note: it's an unfortunate coincidence that this happens to be a time of the month when I tend to easily well up with anger.) Never in my life had I wanted revenge so badly. I threw a chair in front of my commandeered washing machine, and I sat and listened to gurgling of the machine. A million ideas ran through my mind of what I would do to these clothes. They ranged from simple ideas such as merely turning the machine off before the rinse cycle, to complex ideas such as moving the clothes to a different washing machine and turning it on again, in hopes that the assailant would believe their clothes to be stolen, create a huge fuss and inform someone, and then become the ultimate fool when their clothes are simply in a different machine. I sat there with my ideas. My book was open, but my mind was elsewhere. My eyes scanned the entire room for a bottle of bleach. I heard a key twisting in the door. The kindly gentlemen whom I had met earlier entered to remove some clothes from one of the dryers. All vengeful thoughts began to melt away as I saw a dryer becoming available. As I sat there watching him trying not to smile. When he had emptied the dryer, he made his way to one of the washers and began refilling the dryer with a new load. My hopes shattered, and my vengeful nature sought yet another victim. Since he had not ultimately insulted me, I only thought of turning the dryer off and letting his wet clothes sit, but also in this incident, I had no intention of actually fulfilling. My mind fluttered back to the gurgling washer behind me, and my rage again ensued as I waited for a dryer. Another man entered and in the same respect as the man before, emptied a dryer and refilled it with a new load. I hated life. I hated people. I hated laundry. Then a girl entered. She began unloading a dryer. I again took notice in hopes that I would be the next to claim it. When she finished taking her clothes out, she began to approach me. In confusion, I feigned interest in my book and pretended to take no notice of her. Then she reached around me to unload the washer behind me, the washer that had been taken from me. As she walked with an armful of wet clothes putting them in the dryer, I reaffirmed my position in front of the machine while giving her the dirtiest look I believe I have ever mustered. Back and forth she went, reaching around me and loading her dryer. The entire time before, when I had been scheming, my conscience was in a great debate. The devil on my shoulder had some brilliant ideas, but the angel only repeated the fact that it's Easter. Of all the holidays, it had to be Easter. It had to be the day that Christ was resurrected after dying for OUR sins which I'm sure included revenge. The case was settled. The angel on my shoulder had the winning argument. As the girl continued with her laundry, I wanted her to say something to me. I begged her to say something to me. If she instigated anything at all, even an eye roll or a reciprocal dirty look, all bets were off. My conscience would have declared a mistrial, and I wouldn't be denied. She remained silent though and after setting her dryer settings, left. I instantly began fuming again. On Easter, I was helpless. I continued to think of ways to sabotage her laundry, but it was futile now. I knew that I wouldn't do anything. A dirty look, that's all I got. More time passed, and then another girl entered. She went to a dryer and began unloading it. Rather than throwing all of her clothes into her basket and leaving, she folded every article meticulously like a shop girl in the Gap before placing it into her basket. I couldn't be mad anymore. My anger had already reached its pinnacle and was subsiding. My disbelief in humanity continued the uphill battle. To the unsuspecting person, I'm just a girl sitting in front of a washing machine with a pile of wet clothes behind her, clearly waiting for a dryer. My time doesn't matter to them though. No one's time matters to them. They only matter to themselves. People are selfish, even on the holy days. Nothing stops their conceit. Back to the actual perspective of this situation, I eventually dried my clothes. I threw both loads into one dryer although I could feel they were almost dry anyway. In the end, it took me four hours to do 1 1/2 loads of laundry. The moral of the story: don't do laundry on Sunday and people suck.

Sentimental Journey

2008-02-06T21:04:00.000-09:00

Here is the story about all of my airport shenanigans.

Alright, it's Tuesday morning, about 3am. I have to wake up around 5am in order to make my flight at 7am. Anyway, at 3am, I wake up in the middle of the night (only about an hour of sleep at this point), and I feel completely nauseous. I'm fighting it though. With all of my might, I am taking deep breaths trying not to throw up hoping it will just go away. Then I feel something... only it's coming out the other end if you catch my drift. I won't get too explicit, but we'll just call it some gastro-intestinal troubles. So I go back to bed still feeling very nauseous. Then, I just can't take it anymore!! I call for my mom because I am a five year old, and I am crying telling her that I feel sick, and that this is the worst timing ever!! She tells me that it is probably just nerves. I tell her that I am trying not to throw up, and she tells me to go for it, and I oblige. I felt pretty good afterwards... for awhile. Then I threw up again, and before I knew it, it was 5am. Time to get up. My mom tells me to just re-book my flight, but I cannot! I was worried that my advisor would be pissed because it sounds like such a fabricated excuse. So I refused to re-book, and I got up. Once I started walking around, I did feel a little better. My mom's van has been leaking oil, and my brother's car is exceptionally old. We figured age was a less risk than oil leakage, so we piled my luggage into my brother's car and hit the road. It's chilly this morning, but not too bad. Then we arrive at the airport, and upon opening my car door, I throw up in the parking lot of the airport. We also notice that it is a lot colder at the airport. My teeth are chattering as we walk into the building. So, I walk to the ticket counter to discover that my flight from Atlanta to Seattle had been canceled. They re-booked me on a flight to Memphis then to Seattle. No big deal really... if I only knew. This flight to Memphis left 30 minutes before my previous flight, so now I had to rush. Quick goodbyes to my mom and bro. Where's dad... we'll find out later. Now, I don't know if you knew this about me, but apparently I am a security risk. I got to stand in a special line where I would later get frisked. I know I look dangerous in my Universal Studios sweatshirt with a purple hood and butterflies on it. Nevertheless, I was thoroughly searched. Now I had to run to my gate and luckily boarded my plane in time. After sitting on the plane for what seemed like a little while too long, the pilot explained that there was a problem with... something or other, I can't remember... but it was fixed and they were filling out the paperwork (whatever that means). At this point it starts to rain, only that's not rain. My keen meteorology skills tell me that it's in fact freezing rain! Side note: I felt pretty smart being the one to announce that to the other passengers. There was ice on the window, so really anyone could have figured it out. Still though... I'm a meteorologist. They needed me to confirm it. We'll just say that anyway. Sure enough, the pilot explains that the plane is accumulating ice and will need to be de-iced. There are three other planes ahead of us though that also need to be de-iced. To appease the restless passengers, they start serving free drinks i.e. alcohol. Excuse me... it's 8am, and people are ordering drinks!! Alcoholics! If my stomach hadn't been on the fritz, I might have ordered one too I guess. At this point I realize that I won't be able to make my connecting flight to Seattle, but I figure I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. After a while, the pilot informs us that the de-ice trucks don't have the proper fluid to de-ice the plan, and we will now be de-boarding. So we sat on a plane for two hours only to be kicked off and told to go to the ticket counter to be re-booked. Excellent. Of course we weren't the only flight canceled that day, and the line to the ticket counter stretched for what seemed miles. So I waited in line for another two hours listening to business frantically call their travel agents to get re-booked so they can make that ever so important meeting in Chicago or wherever the hell they do business! Funny story though, one of the business men went to high school in Fairbanks. So I talked to him a little while. The very country man in front of me lived in Asheville for awhile. I explained to him that I LOVED Asheville, and that I wanted to move back there. He explained that the city was horrible now.... umm you're crazy. He says that taxes are going up (they are everywhere man) and that if you hit your kids, they will take them away from you, and that's just not right... yeah if you're crazy!! I held firm with my Asheville love and said, "Well, I don't have kids." To which he replied, "Well, you're young." To which I thought (and should have said), "Well, I don't intend on beating them." Anyway, I finally make my way to the ticket counter, and there only response is that they can't do anything for me. "What do you mean, you can't do anything for me?" They couldn't get me on a flight in the next few days at all, and they told me to check with Delta. Soooooo, I waited in line for 2 hours with an Alaskan business man and a child beater only to learn that I should just go to Delta. I'm a pleasant person, so I let that slide. Speaking of slide, I had my called my family in the midst of all of this and learned that my mom and brother had done a 360 on the busiest road in Knoxville. Thank God they were alright. They didn't hit anyone or anything, and eventually made it home safe but shook up. Actually my brother handled it fine; my mom, not so much. I also learned that my dad had come to the airport, but since I was put on an earlier flight, he had missed me. Also, on his way back he got caught in a huge traffic jam! He went one mile in like 2 hours or some statistic just as crazy. Luckily he had a client right by the airport, so he camped there and did some work. Alright, back to me now... I go to the Delta counter, and the earliest flight they can get me on is tomorrow!! It's about noon now. Mind you, I arrived at the airport at 6am. Luckily my Dad was so close, traffic had let up a little, and the ice had melted some. So my dad picked me up and drove me safely home.

And that's the story of how I got to spend an extra day home. Just think, if I had just re-booked my flight when I felt sick that morning, it all could have been avoided. I think about that everyday.

On Wednesday i.e. the next day, everything ran smoothly. No ice, no illness, no delays, no cancellations, and I made it back to Fairbanks.

Turns out Ana also did a 360 in the parking lot of Panera Bread. Thank God, she was also fine.

My mom thinks that the sickness was a sign from God. I believe her. Once I went home that day, I pretty much felt fine. Even ate a philly cheese-steak sandwich.

Dad eventually made it back to work that day.

Mom has recovered from her icy spin. She still hates winter weather though.

Mom's van is still leaking oil.

Blame it on my Youth

2007-11-19T20:06:00.000-09:00

So, I have had my fair share of embarrassing moments here in Alaska, but this was probably the worst. So, take a seat, and let me share with you the moment where I believe my adviser lost a little respect for me. For those of you who don't know, I spend my days trapped in a cubicle staring at a computer. Whether I am doing research or classwork, it usually involves the computer. Also, the cubicle room is usually silent except for the sounds of frantic typing and mouse clicks. To avoid going crazy or falling asleep, I listen to my mp3 player. Again, for those who know me, you know that I have an interesting array of music. Some have described it as a middle-aged, gay man's taste in music. Also, once I begin listening to music, it becomes difficult not to dance. Now, I don't mean that I am having a rave in my cubicle. I only mean that your head starts bobbing, and your feet start tapping, and maybe some shoulder action. The last player in this scenario is the fact that my adviser likes to make daily rounds and check on her students. I'm sure most of you have figured out what's going to happen in this story, but stick around anyway. Needless to say, my adviser was making her rounds when I happened to be enchanted with the rhythm. She made a joke about me enjoying my music, and then proceeded to ask me what I was listening to. Normally, I can conjure some lie in order to hide something embarrassing, but I had been caught off guard. Being so flustered, I uttered the worst words that I could say... the truth. So please, tell me what your experience is like when you have to look in the face of your professor who is curious about what you are dancing to, and say the words, "Be Our Guest... it's from Beauty the Beast... the Disney movie..."

Pennies from Heaven

2007-11-10T12:09:00.000-09:00

Hey everyone! This is the post where I get a little preachy, so if you don't like that, then too bad. So, recently a lot of great, little things have been happening to me!! Firstly, the vending machines in my office are in love with me. On Thursday, I went to get a bag of Doritos from the food machine, and while my chips were falling, I heard the Soda machine acting up. All of it sudden, it spits out a Dasani water. I'm pretty sure that the two machines are not connected in any way. Plus I never even touched the soda machine, and it just gives me water! Then on Friday... I went back to see my beloved vending machine, this time to indulge my sweet tooth. I was getting a Three Musketeers bar, when the machine decided to give me a Snickers bar too!! We all know I love chocolate, so that made my day! Then there was today. I was walking to the cafeteria, and on my normal route, I cut through the Wood center. It's basically like a student union center. For some unknown reason today though, it was locked! So I had to walk around it instead, which doesn't really make the route longer so much, but it's nice to get a brief warm-up in a building before going outside again. Anyway, I had my breakfast as usual and left the cafeteria. On my way back, I decided not to even try to go through the wood center in case is was still locked. So I went in the small alley way beside it, and I found 41 dollars on the ground!! There wasn't anyone around, so I couldn't ask if it belonged to someone else. So I kept it! Now I would consider these things little gifts from God, and I am so grateful! It really is the little things that keep us smiling! Some of you may think that it is just a coincidence that all of this stuff happened, but I don't. Especially since last night, my Mom and I were talking about little miracles. My Mom told me story about a woman who found a large sum of money on her front porch one morning. I joked that if someone had left half a million dollars on my porch, I would go into the Witness Protection Agency for fear that somehow the mafia confused me with someone else. I also said that I wouldn't want a bunch of money left on my porch, but rather I'd prefer a smaller sum. We also talked about how we wouldn't know it was a gift from God unless he hit us over the head with it. Well, after that conversation and finding the money today, I feel as though I have officially been hit! It's things like this that can really build your faith! Today, I just feel so blessed, and I really just wanted to spread the word! God is awesome!!

You're Getting to be a Habit With Me

2007-11-04T00:20:00.000-08:00

It has been far too long since I have written in my illustrious blog, but I am happy to report that I fully intend to write more regularly now. There were a few speed bumps in the road over the past weeks. Firstly, midterms were my main objective one week, and the next week technical difficulties kept me apart from my beloved laptop. Although, there hasn't been much to speak of these days. I've been on a continuous cycle of research, homework, and sleeping. I stay at work in my cubicle for entirely too long. I go in early; I stay late. I find myself there on the weekends as well, finishing research, school work, or what have you. I could bore you with the details of writing Fortran programs to estimate ship emissions, but that wouldn't make for a very good read. When I leave the office, I make the slow, mind-numbingly cold walk back to my dormitory where all I can do is sleep. This is what I have settled into for the past month. I believe that I shall turn over a new leaf for November. Suffice it to say, I hope that I continue to bore you with other minute details of my life. Again, my apologies for neglecting my blog duties, but... I'm back baby!

Black Coffee

2007-09-27T22:29:00.000-08:00

Much to my dismay, I find myself completely addicted to coffee these days. It started out as just a boost on those regrettable mornings preceded by too little sleep. Now though, it has become my life source. So every morning, it has become my routine to make my way down to the cafeteria, eat a little breakfast, and get my morning fix. Sometimes though, the cafeteria has run out of there normal "to go" cups. They supplant them with Styrofoam cups which have no lids to fit them. Then there is a slight dilemma. After breakfast, I ride the campus shuttle to the IARC building (where I work and go to class). It's a bumpy ride, and without a lid for my coffee cup, it becomes quite an ordeal. No major spills yet to speak of. This weekend, I plan on buying a thermos to solve all of my problems (besides the actual dependency issue). There is a recycle sale sponsored by the UAF Women's Association next weekend. If they are selling a coffee pot, then I can manage more sleep time. My concentration during class has also been severely damaged. When I don't have coffee, I'm too sleepy to concentrate. When I have had coffee, I'm too hyper to concentrate. I think I will stick to the hyper situation. At least then I can fake paying attention with wide eyes and occasional head nods while inside my mind is racing with a million thoughts having nothing to do with atmospheric science. It's just that coffee is perfect on those cold, rainy mornings which Alaska has been having a lot of lately. Although today was actually really nice. This morning was beautiful actually. It had just rained a little before sunrise, so everything was still wet. The clouds had broken up just enough to let the sun shine through, and the sunlight was reflecting off of everything. The dark clouds mixed with deep blue sky, and it was actually fairly warm this morning (around 40 degrees). That sounds bad, but lately it's been 25 in the morning, so this was a welcome relief. As the day progressed, the skies cleared even more until it was basically cloudless. Just to the south, you can see these huge snow-covered mountains which seem to get closer/bigger every time I see them. Today they were especially gorgeous. Every time I try to take a picture of them though, it never comes out well. I suppose I'll keep trying. For anyone wondering, this is now a competition between me and Ana for the most mundane blog.

September in the Rain

2007-09-25T22:41:00.000-08:00

There hasn't been much to tell of lately. It has been raining a lot here. It's a cold drizzle that just makes you feel sad. Although, I have been having great hair days during the rainy weather. Of course, they are immediately ruined when I walk out the door because I am currently sans umbrella. Then the top of my hair is matted to my head while the ends are completely frizzed out. I like to call it pyramid hair, although it's shaped more like a trapezoid.

Note to Ana: Quick! What's the formula for the area of a trapezoid?

All of the rainy weather has kept me inside for the most part. Hence staying inside gives me more opportunities to see my Resident Director, Blaine. As the Resident Director of Bartlett Hall, his duties are basically unknown to me. According to the resident handbook, we can talk to him if we "need an answer to a difficult question." Oh the questions I have for him... for instance, why are you so dreamy? I remember the day we met. It was the first hall meeting of the year. He came in and introduced himself to the group and then left. It was so magical. I do know that as Resident Director, he has a master key for all of the rooms. The other night there was an incident with my neighbor's door. Apparently, his girlfriend got locked inside the room. A few of the RAs tried their master keys, but nothing worked. Then a locksmith was called, but before he could come, Blaine arrived. He was dressed all in black (not like a gothic cape or anything), black slacks and a dress shirt. Then with his master key and his magic touch, he opened the door! He was my knight in shining armor... except I wasn't really the damsel in distress. Though, that puts me in a better situation: a) I'm not in distress, b) there is still a knight around. That's what I like to call a win-win. I wonder where he had been, dressed like that. It was pretty late at night. Probably with some other girl. I feel like Tracy in Hairspray, "Oh Blaine, I can dance so much better than her. Why don't you notice me at school?" with Penny right next to me making ten facial expressions in one second. By the way, the name Blaine sounds like he should be on the Corny Collins show, so you know, it's not that much of a stretch.

Second note to Ana: See you can write a blog about absolutely nothing.

Too Close for Comfort

2007-09-24T18:57:00.000-08:00

Starvation Gulch... it's a tradition here at the UAF. Students build enormous structures out of wood pallets, and a trophy is awarded to the most creative team. I'm sure that is fine enough within itself, but the real joy for Fairbanks comes the following night. As a way to clean up after themselves, I suppose, they enthusiastically light each one on fire. Yes this night is the talk of the town. With about five gigantic bonfires, music, and so on, students gather in the parking lot and watch the buildings burn. Call it tradition if you will, but all I see is a senseless need to burn things. I went there alone in hopes of recognizing someone, but I instantly reverted back to high school and being the one girl without a date. I wandered through the crowds desperately searching for anyone. I was hoping that people would just assume I was just waiting for someone, but I really wasn't expecting anyone. A few of the fires were burning when I arrived, but I watched the firemen as the lit up two other structures. I was lucky enough to find someone I recognized and we discussed our slight disappointment in the whole affair. For me, there's only so long that just stand there and watch a fire. Perhaps if my friends were there or if I had been drinking, I would have enjoyed myself more. Anyway, there was a group of people chasing each other around during the event. To me, it doesn't seem like the greatest idea to play tag within a large crowd, but they threw caution to the wind. Unfortunately, being the target that I am, one of the runners plowed right into me. He then proceeded to act like it never happened as he didn't even apologize. I've dealt with dumbasses like that before, so it wasn't a total spoiler for me. I then continued to walk through the crowd to find others I knew. During my search, I was approached by a few men, separately, who were interested in who I was looking for. I would just explain that I was looking for my friends and would continue walking. However, one man was so bold as to keep walking with me. He said that he was trying to meet new people, and then he wanted to show me a picture of his daughter. I could tell that he was pretty drunk as he began stumbling when pulling out his wallet. Then as he raised up the picture to show me, he went in for the kill. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, he grabbed my boob. That's about the time that I called it a night and headed back to my room with plenty of fond memories about Starvation Gulch.

Nice Work If You Can Get It

2007-09-23T17:48:00.000-08:00

I suppose it's about time to speak of my actual work here in Alaska. I had my first meeting with my advisor at 10am, and I imagined it would be a short meeting where I get slightly acquainted with the building and whatnot. I grossly underestimated their expectations of me, well not that much, but you'll get the idea. Anyway, first we had to take care of all of the bureaucratic bullshit... so my advisor calls it. This meant multiple trips to the HR office, to payroll, to the ATMS secretary, and many other places. These offices are all scattered around this six-story building. My advisor, in fear of the next big Alaskan earthquake, avoids the elevators. So we scaled many flights of stairs on many occasions. After my first trek to the sixth floor, I was ready to take my chances with the elevator, but I had to stay the course with my advisor and the stairs. Nicole, my advisor, liked to carry on a conversation the entire time. I would have loved to participate more but my lungs would not allow it. For those of you athletes and gym fiends reading this, I realize that I am horridly out of shape, so you guys can have fun with your stairs, and I'll enjoy my elevator! Back to business though. Technically, I am here on a fellowship, although I'm basically just a research assistant. This caused a problem with the business of my contract letter which was one of the reasons we scaled the stairs so many times. I also got a key-card which allows me to go into the building when it's closed. So, if I come on a weekend, I get to wave my card in front of this sensor, and the doors unlock. I like it; it makes me feel like a spy. If I don't see anyone in the building, I usually indulge my spy fantasy and walk against the walls and duck past windows. If I hear someone coming, I try to run down another hallway. Of course when I actually get caught, I play nonchalant like I was tying my shoe or something to explain my erratic behaviour. Speaking of other cool spy gear, I got another key-card thing that allows me to log on to the super computers. That's pretty fun to use as well. I was assigned my cubicle as well. It's pretty nice I think... for a cubicle. I have a plant there as well, but I'm afraid it's dying. I knew that I'd kill it the minute I saw it. It looks like it would be a hardy plant, but that means nothing to me. I can kill any plant unintentionally. Everyone else's cubicle is full with papers, books, and other things. Mine is still fairly empty, so I spread my stuff out to make it look more full than it is. I imagine, I'll accumulate a lot more stuff as the years go by. Nicole gave me a bunch of technical papers to read that have to do with my research. After three weeks, I've read two. I'm pathetic and a procrastinator. In my head, I'm like, "why read a technical paper, when I could just sleep or do anything else?" It's a valid question. Back to my first day though. I was given my first assignment. I guess I should explain my research before I tell you my assignments. Watch out, nerd stuff ahead! I'm using the WRF-chem model to evaluate the effects of ship emissions (cruise ships and charter vessels) on Alaskan national parks. I will model the deposition of certain contaminants in the parks during the 2008 tourist season. Thus, my first assignment was to map out all of the routes of cruise ships in that area. That was surprisingly fun. I made plots for each ship during the summer to learn their exact positions, but the fun part was looking on all of the cruise ship websites. I know that they are horrible pollutants, but I really want to go on one. Maybe that makes me a hypocrit, but those ships are very luxurious. Maybe I can convince them that I could do better research on one of them. I'm thinking the Tahitian Princess on one of it's Alaskan Connoissuer voyages. Yeah, that would be nice.

You Make Me Feel So Young

2007-09-21T22:27:00.000-08:00

My first order of business after arriving to UAF was the new student orientation. It wasn't required for graduate students, but I thought it would be a good idea to attend and hopefully gain some knowledge of the campus. I unfortunately was horrendously wrong! For me, the new student orientation meant spending every waking moment with the incoming freshmen. There were some helpful aspects like campus tours and a shuttle to Wal-Mart, but for the most part, it was pretty useless and irritating. I'm at the age now where I don't a motivational speaker to tell me how to meet friends, and I don't need advice on how to take a test. Speaking of the motivational speaker... the only way I can sum it up is with one wordless eye-roll. This was the mandatory assembly where we met our orientation leaders and group. My orientation leader was an undeclared sophomore who had previously been on academic probation. What a great guide for incoming freshmen. In honesty, the motivational speaker wasn't terrible, but there were a few issues I had with him. Firstly, he kept making us introduce ourselves to everyone around us. I mean, that's great and all, but I have no intentions of actually acknowledging these people again. I seriously doubt that you are going to meet your new best friend during some two minute forced introduction on a day where you've introduced yourself to about fifty other people. Then, as a sort of closing ceremony, I guess, we had an activity where as a group we had to sing 'Singin' in the Rain' with our tongues hanging out, our butts sticking out, while we turned around in a circle. I'm going to play the age card again, but I'm sorry that is lame no matter what age you are. So, I basically refused to do it. I 22 and completely jet- lagged, so not today. Then one of my orientation group members, some young man from Virginia, decided to help me along with this routine. I explained that I was too old for this, leading him to deem me 'the old lady who doesn't dance." Now, I consider myself a generally, likable, friendly person. Maybe it was the jet-lag, but I turned 'bitch' so quickly at that moment. I believe my wording was, "No, I love dancing actually, but this, this is not dancing! This is making a fool of yourself which I only choose to do on rare and special occasions!" He looked a little frightened at that point, so I started laughing to make it seem like a joke. Luckily, he went along with it and started laughing too although in a nervous manner. I have to admit, I kind of felt bad after that, but he called me an old lady who doesn't dance! For those of you who know me... I do love dancing and you guys know it.

Come Fly with Me

2007-09-20T19:21:00.000-08:00

One of my first memorable experiences during this journey would be the flight(s) just to get here. It all started in Knoxville, TN. It's a fine airport, but nothing to write home about really. The whole family had gathered to say goodbye to me. I must say I did a pretty good job of playing nonchalant about it all. I was trying to comfort my mother with things like, "Christmas will be here before you know it," and, "It's just like when I went to Asheville, you'll just see me a little less often." Of course, in reality, I was freaking out on the inside. Holy hell, I'm going to Alaska! What is wrong with me!? I don't want to go!! I had passed the point of no return though, and so I was off. Since your family can't escort you to the gate anymore, you have that awkward moment, after you have your tearful goodbye, where you just sit around in the terminal by yourself, just waiting. Then it's people-watching time. I started looking around at everyone and trying to give back-stories. There was a man in a black, snake-skin suit sleeping in the seat across from me. In my mind, I made him a con artist on the run. There was a woman who looked like a Chico's catalog reading a trashy, romance novel. She was a housewife who was going to visit her mother in Georgia for a few days of shopping, at least that's what I imagined. Then, I begin wondering what people thought about my back-story. I like to think that I don't look like the typical Tennessee local, especially on this day when I was wearing a black turtleneck sweater with a purple dress, black leggings and legwarmers to match... in the middle of summer no less. Maybe people thought I was a big city girl on my way to art school or something more creative than I am clearly capable of. Then, I realized no one was probably noticing me when the skinny blonde in a tiny black dress strolled up with her Louis Vuitton carry-on bag. I instantly saw all of the men perk up. Then, she whipped out her pink cell phone and carried on the most vapid conversation. All I could think was, if you are really so shallow, then you should know that wearing brown sandals with a black dress is a huge fashion faux pas. Even thinking that, made me stoop to her level. Sometimes it just seems like at every moment of your life, there is a skinny blonde in a tiny dress whose sole purpose is to make you feel insecure and then horrendously bitter and angry. Eventually though, it was time to board our flight to Atlanta. I was fortunate to have a window seat on this flight, so I thought. I really just wanted to rest my head and sleep for the thirty or forty minutes. The man next to me had other intentions unfortunately. I tried to shut my eyes and sleep, but it was way too bright outside. The guy next to me though, was reading, and my window was his main source of light. Now, I realize that I could have easily have just shut the window and slept, but I was going to be the nice person and not hinder the reading of some John Grisham novel. Instead, I just sat there... for forty minutes, I literally just sat. I had accidently shoved my backpack too far under the seat in front of me, and reaching down to get it would have put my head awkwardly close to the reading man's crotch. So there I was without a book, sodoku, or my Mp3 player, just sitting. Luckily, it's a short flight from Knoxville to Atlanta, and in no time at all we had arrived! Then, it was time to navigate my way through the Atlanta airport. It's an easier feat than I thought it would be. I knew where I needed to go, but unfortunately it was a long trek to where I needed to go. As I was getting my bearings, I noticed a little shuttle train going my way. I wasn't quite sure where if it was right though, and as soon as I hesitated, the shuttle was off, and I was left to walk. Now I can always use a good walk, but I was carrying my laptop case which has an uncomfortable handle. Also, my backpack kept making my dress ride up. I had leggings on, so I wasn't worried so much about exposure as I was about looking like an idiot with my dress all bunched up around my back! So I acquired the strangest walk as I made my way to Terminal A. I kept switching hands with my laptop, and occasionnally just holding it against my chest with two hands. Then, I'd have to pull my dress down in the back and adjust my backpack and laptop again. I finally made it though, and I took a seat near the gate to waste three hours of a layover. There was a Burger King across the way which caused me a lot of internal conflict, but I caved and indulged in a double cheeseburger. Of course when I got up to get my burger, I lost my prime seat facing the wall. Now I had to face the other people waiting and try not to make eye contact with them. I had my headphones on, so I debated closing my eyes, but I didn't want people to think that I was sleeping, so I ruled that out. Then it was just a combination of pretending to look through my bag for stuff, cleaning dirt out from under my fingernails, and looking at the screen describing the flight. At last, the flight began boarding. You know how they make you board by those zones, well I was zone 7, so I still had to wait a little bit. As the first few zones boarded, people began shifting towards the gate. This one girl who looked about 15 was standing in front of me now. She had been sitting not to far from me initially. She was wearing a Jack Skellington sweatshirt with some shabby jeans and gross straw-wedged sandals. It didn't match at all. When zone 7 was finally called, I began gathering my belongings when this little teenager did something unexpected. She turned around to me, and said, "If you're zone 7, you can go now." She said this to me as I was standing up putting on my backpack. First of all, clearly I know it's my turn to go because I'm standing up about to go! Secondly, were you looking at my ticket or something?! I think she was trying to be helpful, but it was like telling me that I was wearing legwarmers... I'm obviously aware of that. I realize this isn't a big deal, and I didn't make a big deal out of it. I just said, "Thanks," and got on the plane. Now this flight was going to be a long one from Atlanta to Anchorage. Seven and a half hours to be exact, and I didn't have a window seat to lean my head against. Now I realize that many people have flown in longer flights than this, but prior to these aforementioned flights, I had only been to Orlando and back which is a little more than an hour. So seven and a half hours is a big deal for me. I was in the middle section of seats on the aisle which I suppose is better than the very middle seat in the middle section ( I hope you can picture this). Anyway, as I was putting my laptop in the overhead compartment, the woman in the middle seat in the row behind me asked if she could trade seats with me, so she could sit next to her husband. I didn't want to say yes because she had the very middle seat, but can I really say no in that position. If I say no, then I look like a jerk. Plus I have to sit surrounded by two people who think I am a jerk for the duration of the flight. So I begrudgingly agreed to switch with her. Now I had the middle seat, and I sat waiting to see who would be the lucky ones to sit next to me on either side. I watched people as they came down the aisles either hoping or dreading that they would sit next to me. There was a woman with a toddler and an infant, and I prayed that she would walk past me. I turned out lucky on that one. Then the token hot guy came down, but no luck as he passed me by. Then a regular middle-aged man came down the aisle and took the seat to my left. He seemed normal enough, so I wasn't too concerned about him. I still had this other seat to worry about though. People kept passing me down the aisle, and I kept sighing out of either relief or disappointment. Then someone took the seat who exceeded all of my expectations, in other words, no one! The seatbelt light came on, the plane started moving, and the seat next to me was empty. At that moment, nothing would have made me happier. So as the flight took off, I realized that the middle-aged man next to me was going to be Mr. Talkative. Don't get me wrong, I love talkative people because then it's less work for me in the conversation. This guy was actually pretty interesting too, so it was a joy to have next to me. He mentioned that he brought some fun-size Snickers with him, and I exclaimed that I had brought M&M's, so we shared are treats with each other and the other passengers. I'll start using his name now. Ron basically became friends with everyone around him, so just by being next to him, I became friends with them too! Turns out that the couple in front of me whom I forfeited my seat to, were from Knoxville! So that was very exciting, but I had a piece of home with me on the flight. The husband, Dave, mentioned that he worked off of Dutchtown Rd, and I shouted with glee that my best friend used to live off of Dutchtown!! Dave and Tammy, his wife, had a daughter about my age who was going to school in Auburn! Then there were some farmers who were from North Carolina, and I was like, "I went to school in North Carolina!" It was nice to have those people with me on the flight. They helped with the transition. As the hours went by, so did the energy on the flight. Our section of the plane unfortunately had a malfunctioning projector, so we missed out on the three in-flight movies. I was alright with not seeing Georgia Rule though. Ocean's Thirteen though, I would have liked to have seen Brad Pitt and George Clooney, but alas. I'd say after the fifth hour, it started getting pretty rough... mentally at least. No one was really talking anymore, and we are all ready to be on the ground again. All I wanted was to be off that plane! No matter how many times I listened to the Hairspray Soundtrack, I still wanted off of that plane. I couldn't really sleep because I didn't have anything to lean on. Ron probably would have lent me his shoulder, but that would have crossed a personal boundary for me. So, now I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm homesick, I'm nervous, and I want off of this plane. Then the nausea kicks in. Then I just start praying that I won't throw up on the flight! So I've got my eyes closed while I'm taking deep breaths, cringing at every turbulent bump as we start descending. Then I felt the welcoming jolt of touching ground, and I knew that I was in Alaska, and more importantly about to be off of this plane! The nausea subseded as I was ready to start moving again. As we were departing, I lost sight of Ron and the other people from the plane. Then I began to navigate the Anchorage airport. I had to ask one of the desk clerks for help, and they guided me in the right direction thankfully. As I was about to get on a shuttle to take me to the next terminal, I saw Ron at baggage claim! I ran and gave him a hug which seems slightly weird, but we bonded, so I'm okay with it. He wished me luck in life, and I said that I would need it! Then, as I was walking toward the next gate, the nausea started coming back. I made to my gate and laid down on the seats with my backpack as a pillow. I decided to call home to hear a familiar voice thinking that would make me feel better. My brother answered and began asking me questions about Alaska. "What's it like there? How's the weather?" and so on and so forth. I was kind of in denial though. I didn't want to talk about Alaska, because I wanted to be home. Also, the more I talked, the more I felt like vomitting. So I cut the phone call pretty short with my brother and made my way quickly to the restroom to do the deed. I stayed in the stall for about 15 or 20 minutes. Firstly, I was just waiting for everyone that heard me in there to leave. Then I started feeling safe in that stall. I was allowed to look like hell in that stall. I was allowed to be hunched over with drool coming out of my mouth, tears pouring out of my eyes, and the ugliest expression on my face. That stall was my first taste of privacy in awhile. I needed to look like hell without caring about what other people thought. This is where I seriously began regretting this decision. I kept telling myself that I should have stayed in Asheville. I should've taken that job at NCDC and stayed at Bath and Body Works. I could have gotten a little studio apartment and a kitten. Life would have been fine. I would have been content with that. Then I collected myself. I splashed some water on my face. I went back to my gate, and spread out over the seats, I slept. I didn't care anymore at that point. I just needed to sleep. I had about three good hours before it was time to board my last flight to Fairbanks. When I woke up in the airport, there was a man sitting behind me. We exchanged some small talk about our respective reasons for going to Fairbanks. Our flight to Fairbanks would have arrived at 12:40 am, and unfortunately the dormitories at UAF didn't open until 8:00am, so there was about 7 hours that I would just hang out at the airport. I told the man sitting behind, whose name I never got, about my situation. He told me to get a hotel room, but I explained my lack of funds to which he replied, "We'll find some place for you." I'm not quite sure what he meant by this. He might have been implying that I go back to his hotel room. I'm not sure, but in my weakened state, I almost considered it. That's when I knew I was in bad place. I think if he had actully asked me back to his room, I would have declined, but I'd have considered it. We weren't seated near each other on the flight though. I had a window seat this time, and for the most part I just slept for the hour flight. I did wake up to see the moonlight hit a blanket of clouds below us. It was really quite beautiful when I think about it, but at the time, I didn't really care that much. The man next to me on this flight was pretty quiet, so we didn't really talk at all. As soon as we left, we were there in Fairbanks. I never saw the strange man from the gate, so fortunately I didn't leave the airport with any strange man. Someone offered to help me with my gigantic dufflebags but I declined. I didn't even know where I was going, so I wasn't going to make some poor guy carry my bags while I figured that out. Then, as I dragged my bags away from baggage claim, I saw a bench. So, I made that my home for the next 7 hours. I laid my bags out, took out a pillow that I had in my formerly checked bag, used my coat as a blanket, and I slept some more. This was probably my favorite part of the journey. The Fairbanks airport was really quiet, so it was easy to sleep. Plus there were a few other students in the same position as me. No one spoke to each other though, but there was a common bond there as we all claimed our respective benches and slept our first night in Fairbanks in the airport.

Rainbows, I'm Inclined to Pursue

2007-09-20T19:05:00.000-08:00

Hi there everyone,

My name is Stacy, and I decided to start a blog chronicling my experience in graduate school. I'm from Tennessee, and I went to school in North Carolina. For graduate school, I decided to make some changes. I applied to the University of Alaska-Fairbanks, and by the grace of God, I was accepted! So, here I am writing a blog to tell you of my Alaskan tales. I've been in Fairbanks now for almost three weeks, and I've got a lot of material... trust me. Firstly though, I want to thank everyone who has supported me in this decision! Mom, Dad, and Locke, you guys are my rock, and I never could have dreamt of a better family. Without you, I would crumble. To my girls, Ana, Donielle, and Ashley, you keep me smiling, and I miss you all so much! Lastly, to anyone else reading this, no matter what role you played in my life, no matter how small, I thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Stacy aka Chunkybutt