As the days grow shorter, my schedule's regularity passes the weeks quickly. A few full evenings a week I study for Neuromorphic Engineering (lots of transistor physics), and occasionally crack a book for one of the five other classes, so it's hard to keep track of where the time goes. It's not all work, admittedly - I joined some friends to see the new James Bond movie (Skyfall) on Tuesday and a Mika concert last Thursday, among other, lesser outings. It's probably a good balance.
In adjusting to the new culture, I'm not dealing with the Swiss culture so much as the culture among the other students. The enculturation is not a task as such, but there are differences. When I work with people who are accustomed to more formal education environments, it can mean adjustments for both of us - they think I take assignments too lightly and unprofessionally (I do), and I have a hard time wanting to turn in polished assignments as long as we demonstrate understanding. It's probably good for me. I like to think it's also good for them. Either way, I get to work with some talented people and feel like we balance the work well.
There's not much to report beyond the daily grind. Hiking season is [mostly?] over, so weekends again turn to winter activities - baking bread, running errands, studying, and relaxing. Occasionally my mind thinks about something, anything that happens to cross it. One thing I've thought about off and on is the idea of identity. Not my specific identity (well that, too), but also what we mean by identity. What do we mean?
Here's a letter a friend recently came across. When Kurt Vonnegut was 22, the Germans captured him as a prisoner of war during WWII. He survived the firebombing of Dresden and lived many of the experiences that befall the main character of his Slaughterhouse Five (a quick read that's much worth it, if you never have). This is the letter he wrote to his family after the war ended, telling them he was alive and would be home in some weeks. Even at 22, you hear his distinctive voice that we know so well from his books, though it would be another eight years until he published his first book.
By simply reading the letter's salutation - "Dear people," - you can imagine no one but Vonnegut writing this. "Dear people." The first sure word he sends home after months as a POW - writing to his family and whomever they may share it with - and he opens with, "Dear people." Maybe that's the only thing he could open with. But to the topic at hand: you read this letter and you know that this is Vonnegut. This is quintessential Vonnegut - pragmatically artistic, matter-of-fact, full of the human element without basking in emotion, and whatever else reads as Vonnegut. All of his writing really gives a strong sense of who he was.
But what do we mean by that? Who do we say that he was? For that matter, who am I? Am I defined by what I do, what I think or believe, the groups in which I claim membership (or the groups that claim me as a member)? By how I process the world? Perhaps I am defined by the way in which I define myself.
A less asked question than, "Who am I?" is probably, "Who are you?" How does one go about answering that question when it's about someone else? In saying, "This letter represents who Vonnegut was," are we saying more than, "I recognize this as being like Vonnegut's other writing and reflects the worldview he presents in his other work"?
What do we mean by "who"? Is there something that you are beyond describing basic characteristics, interests, and personality traits - something that we can actually articulate? Or is that all we mean when we ask that - simply to put together some kind of description? Is there no difference between "who you are" and "what you are like"?
I don't want to get too meta, and don't yet have any sort of formulated answer. I really am interested in hearing your thoughts on this. Identity and self-hood fascinate me. I hope to be able to spend more time learning and talking about this with people, in addition to a few other areas related to the psyche, language, and philosophy of mind. If I'm good about it, I'll spend some time on here looking at this stuff. If I'm lucky, I'll figure out a way to turn some of this stuff into a plausible research project with tangible goals. But that's a ways down the road. I may be on a road that will take me in the right direction, but I need to find a more specific way to that path before putting my best laid plans along with those of other, smarter mice and men.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
Share a vine, and perhaps a wine
After the fourth week of classes, a rhythm has started developing that makes it easier to get the feel of doing homework and studying appropriately. Of course, this doesn't rule out one or two 2am nights a week staying up to finish lab reports. It simply means I feel acclimated to being a student again. It feels good. Though perhaps ironically, I'm writing this while I would normally be in my Signal and Information Processing class. After short sleep Wednesday night and a couple long days, I decided to not get up this morning for a three hour lecture when the professor puts together very good lecture notes that I can study at leisure.
Now that we're almost halfway through October, fall is finally making inroads to Switzerland. After a few weeks of 65 and sunny, the weather now tends to 50 and raining. Not the most pleasant, but let's be honest here: after northern Indiana and Chicago, it's nothing new.
Tuesday night this week was finally moving night. One short ride on the train and a couple 5 minute walks and that's all it took. Bam. New apartment. Across the street from my 3rd floor (really: 4th, but they start counting at zero here) bedroom window, there's another apartment building with old-style roof tiles. The rounded corner of the building is directly in front of me, with a large rounded balcony wrapping the end of each floor. This particular building's tenants seem to have specifically gotten apartments with balconies in order to grow impressive bundles of potted plants. A number of plants drape over the edge of the balcony, some sending vines nearly two floors down - a kind of shared garden world that must brighten the scene for many other tenants in my building as well.
Our building is not as new or well-maintained as the place I lived through September. This whole neighborhood looks older - steep, tiled roofs with the occasional attic window poking through, some kind of stucco finish on the outside of buildings, and sidewalk edges filled with bushes and shrubs up against each building that are not maintained so heavily as to look picture-perfect and sterile. It feels much more organic, more of a home than a street lined with new, spotless shops, with all greenery nicely contained in limited and sharply delineated areas, not allowed out of its prescribed bounds.
The buildings here vary in color from a pale green that's nicely set off by the rust-orange roof tiles and dark green shutters, to various shades of gray, beige, and very pale yellow. Though each building is different - color, roof line, absence or presence of balconies and bay windows - they are all very much in the same style. From my window you can see a series of adjacent roofs where each one is successively higher by a few feet than the previous as the buildings sit higher and higher up the hill towards Roeschibachplatz and the Wipkingen train station. Down the hill in the other direction is Wipkingerplatz, a Zurich Kantonal Bank, the Coop grocery store (pronounced "cope"), and Limmat River as it winds it's way north out of Zurichsee ("Zurich zay" - Lake Zurich)
And here's my view. It's not the mountains, but it's not bad.
Now that we're almost halfway through October, fall is finally making inroads to Switzerland. After a few weeks of 65 and sunny, the weather now tends to 50 and raining. Not the most pleasant, but let's be honest here: after northern Indiana and Chicago, it's nothing new.
Tuesday night this week was finally moving night. One short ride on the train and a couple 5 minute walks and that's all it took. Bam. New apartment. Across the street from my 3rd floor (really: 4th, but they start counting at zero here) bedroom window, there's another apartment building with old-style roof tiles. The rounded corner of the building is directly in front of me, with a large rounded balcony wrapping the end of each floor. This particular building's tenants seem to have specifically gotten apartments with balconies in order to grow impressive bundles of potted plants. A number of plants drape over the edge of the balcony, some sending vines nearly two floors down - a kind of shared garden world that must brighten the scene for many other tenants in my building as well.
Our building is not as new or well-maintained as the place I lived through September. This whole neighborhood looks older - steep, tiled roofs with the occasional attic window poking through, some kind of stucco finish on the outside of buildings, and sidewalk edges filled with bushes and shrubs up against each building that are not maintained so heavily as to look picture-perfect and sterile. It feels much more organic, more of a home than a street lined with new, spotless shops, with all greenery nicely contained in limited and sharply delineated areas, not allowed out of its prescribed bounds.
The buildings here vary in color from a pale green that's nicely set off by the rust-orange roof tiles and dark green shutters, to various shades of gray, beige, and very pale yellow. Though each building is different - color, roof line, absence or presence of balconies and bay windows - they are all very much in the same style. From my window you can see a series of adjacent roofs where each one is successively higher by a few feet than the previous as the buildings sit higher and higher up the hill towards Roeschibachplatz and the Wipkingen train station. Down the hill in the other direction is Wipkingerplatz, a Zurich Kantonal Bank, the Coop grocery store (pronounced "cope"), and Limmat River as it winds it's way north out of Zurichsee ("Zurich zay" - Lake Zurich)
And here's my view. It's not the mountains, but it's not bad.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Getting. It. Done.
A lot has crystallized out of the past five weeks. Until a few hours before flying out of Chicago, I did not have a place to spend my first night in Zurich. After a few jet-lagged nights in a youth hostel, a second-year student offered some space to crash on his living room floor, where I've been for the entire month of September.
Until a couple weeks ago, I didn't know how long I'd be staying in this living situation. This week I move to a more permanent solution, "more" being the operative word. It will last through February - sharing a place with a few second year students I've gotten to know and enjoy.
Until one and a half weeks ago, I had no idea what my class schedule would look like. After sitting in a couple extra lectures and spending a lot of time poring over the course catalogue, I have a reasonably interesting schedule lined up with classes ranging from Neuromorphic Engineering to Robust Statistics to Basics of Instrumentation.
Until a few days ago, I didn't know German. Oh wait, that's still true. But it does feel good to have gotten past all these events that, like the distant Alps, loom as hurdles in the future as you approach them. And perhaps also like the Alps it can take some work to get over them, but it all gets much more accessible with a halbtax card in your pocket and bread and chocolate in your backpack. (A halbtax card is a travel pass you buy on an annual basis that makes almost all train travel within Switzerland half price. Pays for itself pretty quickly.)
So life is settling down to some sort of normal (yeah, Mom, I know, "what IS normal??"). I've applied for a residence permit and a bank account, am finding running routes around the city, will get a bike soon, and am slowly figuring out what my schedule and rhythm will be for the next little while.
Just in case you were curious, here are what some of the local Alps look like ("local" might mean a two hour train ride away, but hey, I have more Alps than you do so quick nitpicking).
Until a couple weeks ago, I didn't know how long I'd be staying in this living situation. This week I move to a more permanent solution, "more" being the operative word. It will last through February - sharing a place with a few second year students I've gotten to know and enjoy.
Until one and a half weeks ago, I had no idea what my class schedule would look like. After sitting in a couple extra lectures and spending a lot of time poring over the course catalogue, I have a reasonably interesting schedule lined up with classes ranging from Neuromorphic Engineering to Robust Statistics to Basics of Instrumentation.
Until a few days ago, I didn't know German. Oh wait, that's still true. But it does feel good to have gotten past all these events that, like the distant Alps, loom as hurdles in the future as you approach them. And perhaps also like the Alps it can take some work to get over them, but it all gets much more accessible with a halbtax card in your pocket and bread and chocolate in your backpack. (A halbtax card is a travel pass you buy on an annual basis that makes almost all train travel within Switzerland half price. Pays for itself pretty quickly.)
So life is settling down to some sort of normal (yeah, Mom, I know, "what IS normal??"). I've applied for a residence permit and a bank account, am finding running routes around the city, will get a bike soon, and am slowly figuring out what my schedule and rhythm will be for the next little while.
Just in case you were curious, here are what some of the local Alps look like ("local" might mean a two hour train ride away, but hey, I have more Alps than you do so quick nitpicking).
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Faith Restored (it's not what you think)
The start of classes is quickly closing in: next Monday we kick things off with the program's orientation meeting. Four years after finishing at Goshen, it'll be interesting to see what it's like back in the academic rhythm. Maybe I'll even get some proper study habits, in contrast with my previous schooling. It should be a good atmosphere, though - the other students that I've met so far seem like a really bright, motivated, energetic group of people. Studying appropriately will be much easier when everyone else is heading in the same direction and running into the same walls. The previous couple years of students have clearly formed a very cohesive group, and it's exciting to see how that energy can build off itself and keep everyone going.
After a couple years as a research tech, I never saw the classes side of the experience, only the lab side. I heard a little about classes, but they were simply one of those things that happened to other people. The Miller lab was great to work in because people interacted so well on both social and professional levels. I really enjoyed seeing the dynamics that come out of those situations - where people are comfortable enough to relax around each other, but still focused on the problems at hand that the lab is tackling. That's one of my favorite aspects of the academic/research world in general.
Not to overblow the situation, but it's almost on the level of "restoring one's faith in humanity" to see a group of people who respect each others' abilities consult with each other and work together to figure out not who is right so much as what is right. That step from competitive to collaborative is one of the biggest ways I can think of to ensure a positive work culture. Going beyond concepts of "synergy," teamwork, divide-and-conquer, and all of those ("synergy" gets quotes because I refuse to give it status as a legitimate word. I maintain that it's the bastard child of business school and buzzwords), the collaborative atmosphere shows respect for and legitimizes all contributions and ideas (and contributors!) rather than only rewarding the most successful. So to make a long story short, that's why I appreciate the work atmosphere I've experienced in academia.
In other news, I'm still functionally homeless. Well, functionally sheltered but technically homeless (sleeping on someone's floor... thanks, Gerick!). I've seen about 7 apartments so far and have just as many more visits planned within the next few days, so eventually one of these people will give me a piece of paper to sign and I'll be on my way!
After a couple years as a research tech, I never saw the classes side of the experience, only the lab side. I heard a little about classes, but they were simply one of those things that happened to other people. The Miller lab was great to work in because people interacted so well on both social and professional levels. I really enjoyed seeing the dynamics that come out of those situations - where people are comfortable enough to relax around each other, but still focused on the problems at hand that the lab is tackling. That's one of my favorite aspects of the academic/research world in general.
Not to overblow the situation, but it's almost on the level of "restoring one's faith in humanity" to see a group of people who respect each others' abilities consult with each other and work together to figure out not who is right so much as what is right. That step from competitive to collaborative is one of the biggest ways I can think of to ensure a positive work culture. Going beyond concepts of "synergy," teamwork, divide-and-conquer, and all of those ("synergy" gets quotes because I refuse to give it status as a legitimate word. I maintain that it's the bastard child of business school and buzzwords), the collaborative atmosphere shows respect for and legitimizes all contributions and ideas (and contributors!) rather than only rewarding the most successful. So to make a long story short, that's why I appreciate the work atmosphere I've experienced in academia.
In other news, I'm still functionally homeless. Well, functionally sheltered but technically homeless (sleeping on someone's floor... thanks, Gerick!). I've seen about 7 apartments so far and have just as many more visits planned within the next few days, so eventually one of these people will give me a piece of paper to sign and I'll be on my way!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Foundational Chocolate
I came to this place, where the hills flow with cheese and chocolate (easy milk and honey allusion, right?), and managed not to immediately gorge on either. The cheese fast was broken a couple days ago when I made some homemade mac'n'cheese, which ended up being shell pasta with cheese melted over it. Without the patience to make a proper sauce, it was simply a nice stringy mix of emmentaler, gouda, and gran padano cheeses, tossed into the pasta with sliced leeks and mushrooms sautéed in more butter than you want me to mention.
Out of this, I was trying to figure out how to turn the cheese into a proper sauce. After thinking of a few extra ingredients that would help, I realized that I basically intended to make a cheese fondue and pour it over pasta. And then eat it along with a glass of whichever white wine or vermouth had gone into the fondue. So mac'n'cheese fondue is now on my list of foods to make for a tasty, cholesterol-heavy meal (and now you want some, too).
But what about chocolate? I managed to last a full week without indulging. My only chocolate while still in the youth hostel was a Cadbury's Caramel bar, courtesy of Heathrow airport and about $2 more than should have been spent on it. Late last week, one of my friends from Chicago asked how much chocolate I'd eaten, spurring an interest and a craving. So on Friday I bought one. Something milk chocolate filled with something even milkier chocolate. Saturday I bought another. Sunday, a third. Honey-chocolate with nougat, and dark chocolate with orange filling, respectively.
The back of my mind knew what was in those chocolate bars besides mouthfuls of rich, Swiss culture and the fatty milk of cows raised on three languages and banking in alpine meadows full of edelweiss. The back of my mind knew what the future held if I kept eating those bars like that. Either a lot more running and biking (not as likely) or a whole lot less (much more likely).
After finishing each of the first three bars came the, "Why did I buy only one??" feeling. This is good. It reminds me how lucky I am to be here, and is a good indicator that I didn't eat myself sick.
I did buy bar number four today. It may even last until the afternoon. I will try to keep track of all the different kinds eaten, to move through the world offered by the Swiss chocolatier. My first inclination was to try to explore every nook and cranny of the local chocolate world, but dietary sense, fiscal sense, and the sheer magnitude of it makes that quite an undertaking. So I will start by trying to cover the basics - to run the range of bars that are readily available, covering the center of the local spectrum. The foundational chocolate.
Out of this, I was trying to figure out how to turn the cheese into a proper sauce. After thinking of a few extra ingredients that would help, I realized that I basically intended to make a cheese fondue and pour it over pasta. And then eat it along with a glass of whichever white wine or vermouth had gone into the fondue. So mac'n'cheese fondue is now on my list of foods to make for a tasty, cholesterol-heavy meal (and now you want some, too).
But what about chocolate? I managed to last a full week without indulging. My only chocolate while still in the youth hostel was a Cadbury's Caramel bar, courtesy of Heathrow airport and about $2 more than should have been spent on it. Late last week, one of my friends from Chicago asked how much chocolate I'd eaten, spurring an interest and a craving. So on Friday I bought one. Something milk chocolate filled with something even milkier chocolate. Saturday I bought another. Sunday, a third. Honey-chocolate with nougat, and dark chocolate with orange filling, respectively.
The back of my mind knew what was in those chocolate bars besides mouthfuls of rich, Swiss culture and the fatty milk of cows raised on three languages and banking in alpine meadows full of edelweiss. The back of my mind knew what the future held if I kept eating those bars like that. Either a lot more running and biking (not as likely) or a whole lot less (much more likely).
After finishing each of the first three bars came the, "Why did I buy only one??" feeling. This is good. It reminds me how lucky I am to be here, and is a good indicator that I didn't eat myself sick.
I did buy bar number four today. It may even last until the afternoon. I will try to keep track of all the different kinds eaten, to move through the world offered by the Swiss chocolatier. My first inclination was to try to explore every nook and cranny of the local chocolate world, but dietary sense, fiscal sense, and the sheer magnitude of it makes that quite an undertaking. So I will start by trying to cover the basics - to run the range of bars that are readily available, covering the center of the local spectrum. The foundational chocolate.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
To find an apartment
Day 5 in the Zurich Youth Hostel is coming to a close. I checkout by 10am tomorrow, at which point I'll go over and crash with one of the current students in the program I'm joining. Hopefully from there it won't take too long to find an apartment of my own.
So far I've focused on checking things off my to-do list, so wandering around the city has been limited to walking the long way around between the train station and wherever I'm going for errands in between the stretches of hunting the internet for somewhere to live. I can say that the lake is pretty - looking out down Lake Zurich with the blue sky over the gradually fading rows of mountains in the distance. Not a bad place to find a park bench on which to eat lunch.
Anyhow, not a lot to share yet, but I'm doing well and still looking forward to the next 16+ months and whatever it may bring! Onward and upward. Up the stairs, that is. To bed.
So far I've focused on checking things off my to-do list, so wandering around the city has been limited to walking the long way around between the train station and wherever I'm going for errands in between the stretches of hunting the internet for somewhere to live. I can say that the lake is pretty - looking out down Lake Zurich with the blue sky over the gradually fading rows of mountains in the distance. Not a bad place to find a park bench on which to eat lunch.
Anyhow, not a lot to share yet, but I'm doing well and still looking forward to the next 16+ months and whatever it may bring! Onward and upward. Up the stairs, that is. To bed.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Pic-casa, house of pictures
Got some more of these buggers up on picasa, for a little more full viewing experience compared to the facebook album: biking the rockies!
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