Posts tagged L.
If you’re a woman in academia (or any structure of power dominated by men),
(okay, not always, but oh, so often)
And unfortunately, there’s really no basis for this crap.
But we’re here to change the system:
So if anyone tries to tell you or make you feel that you are less because you’re a woman, tell them this:
I think the first gif is enough, for me.
From top to bottom: strawberries; tomatillos and tomatoes; leeks, runner beans, and sugar snap peas; CHILLIES; red currants; broccoli; and cabbage!
Ahhhh, it’s almost a full week later, and I’ve neglected to post VIVA photos!
This man in the blue shirt is Dr Johnson, who on 8 April 2014 received no corrections to his PhD thesis. This is nothing short of an amazing feat, and Dr Johnson is definitely to be admired for his work on violence towards women in the case of Afghanistan. Hence, why he has a literal (American) chip on his shoulder. I can’t help it; the British and puns - squee!
There’s definitely an intelligent discussion going on here… Mostly likely about cats, cartoons, or glistening eggs, thousands of them.
A smell can be overwhelmingly nostalgic because it triggers powerful images and emotions before we have time to edit them…
Still, when we try to describe a smell, words fail us like the fabrications they are… The charm of language is that, though it is human-made, it can on rare occasions capture emotions and sensations that aren’t. But the physiological links between the smell and language centers of the brain are pitifully weak. Not so the links between the smell and the memory centers, a route that carries us nimbly across time and distance.
Science historian Diane Ackerman in A Natural History of the Senses (public library), her 1990 prequel to the equally fantastic A Natural History of Love. Ackerman, who also happens to be a spectacular poet and the author of the gorgeous cosmic verses that Carl Sagan mailed to Timothy Leary in prison, paints the backdrop of this perplexing and unique sensory experience.
From this week’s Brain Picking’s newsletter that I’m still hoping you’ll subscribe to so we can talk about.
With my PhD thesis months from submission, I have been having trouble coping with stress, naturally. I smoked cigarettes from about 17 to 24, Camels actually. My partner ‘allowed’ me to some in Paris, because … ‘When in Rome…’ but also because you can’t get Camels in the UK, and these are the only cigarettes I crave. And when I say ‘allowed’ I mean he would tolerate me smoking otherwise, but said that he would also give a box full of 20 kittens and a hammer to a socio-path and for every cigarette I smoked…
The first drag of that Camel in Paris brought back memories I have LONGED to remember of my very dear life partner who died in 2004. I was there, in the moment, in his apartment; 10 years ago was so clear that, not only could I smell it, I could see it, I could feel it, I could love it. It left me wanting to burst into tears but feeling too utterly angelic that I had somehow cheated time to re-experience this moment I have missed for a decade! For that brief moment. But with each fresh cigarette lit, the memories drifted further and further away, the visual experience less clear, and the elation less pronounced.
I love the brain; I should have been a neuroscientist. The chemistry was too hard for me at the time. Funny enough, I met my late-life partner in my first chemistry course. I dropped the course because I was too embarrassed at how badly I was doing and didn’t want him to know.
Damn, smell is powerful.
This means I’m back at home in the UK, as some may remember, a massive, strong brew and fish and chips are in order.
Ah the things you miss.
Yesterday photo set 2: apparently, someone’s awesome flat off the Champs Élysées - I was in awe in front of Yves St Laurent’s house - the Grand Palais, les Invalides, an amazing living wall, and the Eiffel.
I got hangry because all we ate was frites all day, and we managed to walk past 3 metreo stops in the search for one. But then I ate some BBQ crisps on the metreo, and it was okay. We’re staying Le Fee Vert, so we had (STEAK) dinner and creme brûlée there before I almost fell asleep at the table.
My interview is done. It went well. Another world leader met and questioned - hurrah!
Off to le promenade plantee and Montmartre now, mostly because of this post by Amy Poehlee on La Masion Rose that I can’t link too because I’m on a mobile.
Photo set 1 from yesterday’s walk round Paris. St Michael’s fountain, Norte Dame - to which I go ‘okay I’ve seen it’ - the ‘Justice Palace’, the Seine, the ‘Love lock’ bridge, the Louvre and the mall walk, the obelisk - the thing my partner is looking up at. My favourite part was the flower market near the Justice Palace - don’t try and correct me; that’s how I’m calling it - and out cafe lunch … Of frites…
I found Movenpick, which, if you don’t know, is the best ice cream in the world for people who don’t actually like ice cream - aka: the Swiss.
Really bad at selfies
Someone sent me a nice message on tumblr that added to the wonderful that is this Parisian morning; however, we can’t find coffee filters in the flat we are staying in.
As always, you win some; you lose some.
Our first Parisian purchases.
When I return I expect more than my orange tulips to be in bloom! And though the secon photo makes my seedlings look pathetic, there are actually loads of little guys popping up. All we need are one or two bright, warm days, and I’ll be well ahead of the growing season. But this is Manchester, so I guess I’ll settle for on-track!