Caolionn O'Connell

What not to say ...

When you are a professor and the keynote speaker welcoming the new post-docs to the Caltech community, I would like to suggest that you do NOT mention the fact that you went directly from graduate school to assistant professor. That's just not cool.

Reference?

Like any normal couple, Sam and I fight. Very rarely do we argue over hurt feelings or concerns over our relationship, instead it's about politics or economics or whether or not the purpose of the carpool lane is to decrease the number of cars on the road or reduce the overall car-based emissions. Basically things neither of us really know but are more than willing to generate staunch opinions about. More often than not the crux of the argument is over an assumption: the percent unemployment in France, a precedent from the Supreme Court, any fact that I don't believe Sam should know off the top of his head but could usually be settled by the internet. After about a year of dating and many arguments, my catch-all phrase became, "I'd like a reference." It would drive Sam nuts, but our disagreements became more about nuance than technicalities, which, I think we all can agree, is much more interesting.

I am trying to track down the origins of one particular equation in a paper. There is no explanation, there is no reference, just a really powerful equation and I would like to know how to derive it. I want to email the author and say, "I'd like a reference," but I am thinking he would be much less understanding than Sam.

Thankful

I will never have to take another test again. Now that is something to give thanks for.

My diploma finally came in the mail. Not much has changed, but now I have the fancy piece of paper for the unbelievers.

Design, Build & Commission

These are good words, active words, words that say I am a bad-ass, so step off. It's because of those words that I took this job, since I will be expected to design, build and commission a polarimeter for a project at Brookhaven. Unfortunately, up till now, I have only known the glory of commissioning, since most of the infrastructure was already in place for my graduate project. I never got the full trifecta of goodness. So now I am intending to fill those gaps in my physics education and, provided I do it well, successfully enter the pantheon of bad-asses.

Part of me, the engineer and the anal-retentive micro-manager, is loving the design aspect. Figuring out the details, writing up the report, thinking about the plan. Then the other half of me, the worrier racked with insecurities, is thinking about how much this would suck if I f**k something up, so please, please, please don't f**k up.

Uh-oh.

There's a problem. Over the last five days, my computer has shut itself off four times. Sometimes, it goes to sleep and just doesn't wake up. I have tried to recreate the circumstances, I have checked the battery connections, I ran all the disk repairs that I could, but I am at a loss to determine the problem. This is not good. Obviously, it needs to go the Apple doctor, which means I am certain to be without a computer for two weeks. Can I handle that? How am I supposed to work? And worse, how am I supposed to slack off?

Do I back-up religiously and wait until the problem gets really bad? Do I wait until there is a good time to be without my baby, but, really, is there ever a good time? I am disturbed to realize my dependance on this computer. I keep hearing Maude say, "I'm merely acting as a gentle reminder: here today, gone tomorrow, so don't get attached to things." This is very, very bad, because I am awfully attached.

Judgement Day.

Yes, I am quietly judging you. I judge a book by its cover and I judge people by the books that they read. Granted I have been know to slum it occasionally myself, but I have the decency to do it in the privacy of my own home rather than on the subway or at the airport. As much as I enjoyed Can You Keep A Secret?, I would rather die than read a hot-pink book out in public. My judging also extends to awards. I can safely say I will always enjoy a book that has won the Pulitzer Prize and will generally be bored by the works of a Nobel Laureate. Then there are the books chosen for the Oprah Book Club. As much as I love Oprah, I positively loathe her taste in books. Although I think The Corrections author, Jonathan Franzen, was an arrogant fool, I too would eschew the dubious company of White Oleander and House of Sand and Fog. To put it mildly, I am not a fan.

But it looks like Oprah's tastes are improving, since her latest choice, A Million Little Pieces was really remarkable. The book is a memoir of a man's six weeks in rehab. His six weeks of hell, love and redemption. I stayed up until the wee hours this morning because I couldn't stand another night without knowing. I became a cheerleader for every person mentioned who hit rock bottom and wanted to be a better and I had to know their fate. The agony was heart wrenching and I was only an anonymous observer, not a parent or a sibling or a spouse or a child. It is world I hope to never enter, but I am grateful for the small glimpse.

Rocking my world.

I went to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on opening day, 'cause that is what people who are obsessed with Harry Potter are supposed to do. I've also decided I need to buy a Gryffindor scarf for just these sorts of occasions. Honestly, I haven't been a huge fan of the movies, as they tended to gloss over important stuff and spend too much time on things like quidditch matches. Of course, there is also the problem of movies inevitably falling short of one's own imagination. But with all these drawbacks, I was totally and utterly excited to see the latest movie, like a child in wild anticipation. I bought the tickets a week in advance. A book and a movie in the same year – my God, it's like Christmas has come round twice already and it's not even December.

The movie rocked. Totally rocked. Best Harry Potter movie EVER. In fact, I think I might have to see it again next week. The week after that, I will be sure to get myself a life that does not involve magical worlds.

Much less cool

Sam: Caolionn, Caolionn, walk faster! You've gotta see the coolest contrail coming from this plane.
Caolionn: Sam, he's skywriting.
Sam: What?
Caolionn: Someone has payed the pilot an obscene amount of money to write something really trite in the sky.
Sam: Oh, we don't do that in Texas. That makes the contrail much less cool.

Note: In the interest of fairness and the desire not to get the silent treatment all week long, when he saw the cool contrail, it was between two branches so he only saw the hard u-turn in the M.

Note's Note: Sam would like it to be known that I cooked the frozen pizza with the cardboard still attached, so I ain't all high and mighty.

Embrace your inner teenager.

I saw Ice Princess this weekend. Yes, I am 28 years old and, yes, I should be ashamed of myself, but I have a pathetic weakness for teen genre movies. My pride prevents me from going out in public and renting it, so I am Netflix member for exactly this reason (I am, of course, assuming I will never meet any of you readers in person). Also I can convince myself I am not really paying for it; it is just sort of a bonus for the monthly membership. But my neurosis is beside the point.

The Plot: High school girl, who is top in physics, is told to apply for a very difficult physics scholarship. She is unpopular, her hair is in a bun and, of course, she's socially awkward - the general expectation for smart girl in high school. Teacher tells Girl that the experiment for the scholarship should be a personal reflection of her. Girl has a thing for figure skating and so a physics project is born. She writes a computer program to analyze figure skaters and fix their spread eagles (I kid you not, they actually use the term "spread eagle" in a G movie – apparently, it is a figure skating term). She then uses the program on herself and becomes a competitive figure skater. Hair comes down, add a little eyeliner and Girl is starting to look good. (Why did my hair never look that good when it was long?) Zamboni driver falls for girl, she becomes popular and, inevitably, drops physics to pursue her dream of becoming a figure skater.

If this is the kind of movie real 13 year olds actually watch, I'm thinking that we're going for the wrong message here. The whole physics students == unpopular and unattractive and figure skaters == popular and attractive is not going to draw young girls into physics. I'd even go so far as to say it might deter them. I look forward to the day when they make a teen movie where the heroine is hot, not because she has ridiculously pretty hair and ice skates, but because she's smart. I mean, come on, ice skating?! I would think being able to think for yourself would be way hotter than a triple lutz, but I could be wrong.

Bypass.

When did we bypass Thanksgiving entirely and move straight on to Christmas? Is no one keeping these retailers in check? The madness really must stop or else they'll start decorating in July next year.