A short story about Buddy:

On the last day I rode with him, 12/7, I went out to the outdoor ring to bring him in for tacking. It was dark, and I couldn't see that well. When I entered the ring and shut the gate behind me, a couple of the other horses in the ring were standing right in front of me, as soon as I turned around, staring at me, probably trying to get out, or at least get my attention.

All of a sudden, they were spooked by something and scattered. And then there was Buddy walking up to me. He stopped a foot in front of me, head bowed and eyes and ears alert. He had snuck up on the other horses in front of me from behind, and lay claim to his rider.

The proudest moment of my short career as a rider came when I wasn't even in the saddle.

Buddy passed away this December. 

So here's to you Buddy.  You really were too good to me.  Rest in peace.

So Wikileaks is sort of a mess, isn't it?
People are up in arms.
"Anonymous" is on the march.
The internet's usual wild west nature just took on a whole new feel.

At the risk of falling prey to the internet wolves, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that...I don't really like anyone in this mess.
I dislike Wikileaks.
I dislike Julian Assange.
I STRONGLY dislike censorship.
I just as STRONGLY dislike Anonymous.


I don't have a side.  I just think you're all stupid.

I sit here on the 4th floor of the Folsom Library at RPI, overlooking the quad, with its trees and people waving and walking their respective ways.  It's been about 3 months since I first stepped off the plane in Troy, NY, and I still remember that day pretty clearly.


Obviously, the steps I took off the tarmac that day were ones I should have been prepared for, given that I had an entire summer to prepare myself for it.  Preparation is one thing.  Implementation is something entirely different.  It's what separates watching "Jackass" from actually landing in the hospital.


So it has come to pass that in the blink of an eye, I've been here for a while now.  I once thought that the time it took to complete a Doctorate felt like an interminable amount of time.  I've since come to re-evaluate that stance, having dipped my feet in the academic pool for long enough.  The life of an academic is a rapid one in this stage, and with its flow leaves a lot of uncertainty in the air.  In a profession that treasures good questions, it's often the questions outside of our research that can be the most damning.


When will I finish my PhD?
When will they figure out that I am in fact an idiot and tricked them into accepting me?
Where will I do a Post-Doc?
Who in their right mind would accept me as a Post-Doc in the first place?!
...am I missing the most valuable part of young life by spending it holed up in a lab?