Done

While sitting in my disorganized room and looking out the window at a big pile of snow, I thought I should formally conclude this blog for anyone who may or may not still be checking it. I am no longer in LA, although I tried very hard to pretend I was while sitting at Logan airport and drinking an iced coffee. A poor plan in the end for I was quite cold, yet stubborn; I drank that whole thing.
Now, throughly exhausted by my long trip back to Dartmouth and the strain of moving into a new room, I say a final farewell to all of my readers. Perhaps one day I shall revive my blog, but I can already tell you that I will not have time to do so this term. So if you feel like hearing about my life, you must email me. Thank you to everyone who read my ramblings this past winter, perhaps we will meet again!

Mystery

Okay, this post is intended for only one person out there. I cannot say who though. Mostly because I have no idea who it is supposed to be. But I just got back from dinner at my dad's house and decided that before bed I would look through the small pile of mail on my dresser. Nothing too interesting really, except for a plain white envelope with my address typed across the front. It was sent March 14th from San Francisco (which could really just mean from the Bay Area). There was no return address and as I held it up to the light I could see that it was a newspaper clipping. My interest was piqued. A newspaper clipping that is pretty personal. I opened the envelope and confirmed that it is indeed a newspaper clipping from the March 11th Financial News, but who knows which paper. Attached was a yellow post-it saying "Gemma, Thought you'd be interested! -J."
J? Okay maybe the article will give a clue of who J is. But which side to read? It is not immediately obvious. J is either trying to tell me to learn how Mutual Funds work, or J is emphasizing that people should check out a free report so that their retirement fund doesn't go down the drain. Okay, I am missing something. I am no closer to deciding who J might be and now faced with the second problem of deciphering the article. I know nothing of finance. Perhaps J knows this and has decided that it is time I took initiative and dive into the world of finance. I have no clue why anyone would send me this. So I turn to Google, which of course producers the answer.
Confirming my growing suspicions, Google tells me that the clipping and note are a scam. Why is it that mysteries are better solved when on television or in books but only disappointing in real life?
This post is intended for that one person who handwrote my post-it. You just wasted 15 minutes of my bedtime with a mystery that didn't even have a good solution. You also wasted a perfectly good post-it note attempting to scare seniors into looking into a free report to help their retirement fund, but you see, J, I am 20 years old. One day I hope to discover and solve a real mystery with a truly satisfying answer.

I think I was bored. . .

Very recently I have had a lack of inspiration when it comes to writing my posts. I can't really see why because my life hasn't changed much save for the fact that I have been incredibly productive at the archive. The database is finally up and running on all fronts. I say this with extreme pride. I was able to take Steve's ideas and basic structure and turn it into a concrete being. I call it a being because it is almost a living thing. It is like my child. I shall make my database feminine. I made her basically from scratch and taught her do what I asked her to. Sometimes she did not obey me, like any child, but as she grew and matured, she learned that doing as I say isn't so difficult, like every ideal child. Soon she will be out of my hands and all I can do is hope that she can operate without me.
This leaves me with very little to do on my last day of work. I literally am sitting here twiddling my thumbs. Though, not while I type, that would be a challenge. Perhaps I do not want to write anything in my blog because I have realized that soon the designated time length I gave for my blog will be over. I am doubtful that I will be nearly as interesting once I have returned to Dartmouth. This is not to say that Dartmouth is not an interesting place, quite the contrary. Only, I won't have the same sort of animation inspirations surrounding me. . .
This is why I have taken to recently reading and re-reading the internships posted by Pixar and Dreamworks for this summer. I plan to get one of the internships offered by either of them. If anyone reading this happens to know someone high up at either of these places, I would greatly appreciate and introduction.
Ah! I am just so bored with this post, I don't even know if I should I post it. . . . Oh but I will just because I can. One of the best reasons ever made.

Problem Solver

So this is apropos my previous post which some of you may have seen when it was missing the picture. There seems to be a problem with uploading pictures to blogger if you are using Safari on a Mac. I was frustrated at first because I thought that I was doing something wrong until I poked around a bit and discovered that, no it was blogger's issue and not mine. I was momentarily placated. Then as I read through all the problems people were reporting with uploading pictures on their blog (the same issue over and over again I might add), I got frustrated again. Not because of the renewed feeling of being upset with my blog, but because I was upset with the people reporting the problem. It is one thing to say you are experiencing a technical difficulty, but quite another to scream it at the tech people and tell them how frustrated you are and how long can it possibly take to get it fixed.
I have never really thought of myself as a problem solver, but now I am forced to think that I must be in the general scheme of things. If something doesn't happen the way I want it to, I try going about it a different way until it does operate satisfactorily. This is standard operating procedure for me and for most people I am friends with. I have found however that not everybody goes about things in this way. More often than not people will throw their hands up in frustration and complain to the person nearest them. If I am that person next to them I suggest a way to fix it, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I don't come with answers, but I certainly do what is in my capacity to find them. I highly dislike those people who just complain and give up, declaring that they are no technology, math, science, VCR, remote, rat cage, etc. expert. Not being an expert is no excuse for giving up!
It bothered me that the people were so snappy and rude when complaining about the picture uploading problem to the tech people. They obviously are now aware of the problem and are trying to fix it, so please do not repeat again that you are frustrated or yell at them for not having fixed it already. As it turns out, they still have not fixed the problem, but you will note that I have gotten my picture up on the previous blog. How resourceful I am! I used another browser. So simple. Stop complaining.
Next time you encounter a problem you cannot solve immediately, step back, have a think, try going about it a different way. You don't need to give up then oppressively lean on someone who might know how to fix it. It will not make them want to help you in the future.
On a somewhat different note, I make have found a way to be a sloppy Gemma version of Google thanks to the simple questions of one Miss Erin: "How do you display search results for other things?" Brilliant! I think I shall call it Gemoogle. I like the way it rolls off the tongue.

Today

Yesterday, Steve got cataract surgery. For accurate details of how this surgery is done, see diagram below.



Today, I nearly strangled someone out of frustration. Today, Steve also asked me to make the quivalent of a search engine, like Google. I have previously thought that Steve asked the impossible from me, but I usually managed to deliver because I had been limiting the way I thought about things. However, I am not certain that I will be able to imitate Google within the next 4 days. Quite the predicament.

My Luck

I told my mum that I was really lucky this term.
She said that people make their own luck.
I am really lucky to have gotten this internship with the archive. Not only does it look great on my resume, but it has also taught me quite a lot about animation history. When I say animation history, I don't mean dates of when certain animators or studios were doing certain things and I also don't mean events that impacted the animation industry. While I do know some new dates and events that I did not know of before, what I really mean by animation history is the style, the way cartoons used to be made. Comparing them to today's cartoons is somewhat depressing. What happened to all the care and love that went into making cartoons in the first half of the 20th century? Now so many of the cartoons are shipped overseas to be animated. I would be very reluctant to send my child overseas to get the life put into her. That basically is what is missing in some of today’s cartoons: life.
Yes, the Simpsons and Family Guy characters walk, talk, and breathe ink but they lack the qualities possessed by animated characters of the past. Today's characters have predictable and drab movements. They are one-dimensional and wanting in true character. They are without life; they are lifeless. So what is this great standard I am comparing these to, you might wonder? Well, most older cartoons really. But one brilliant example is Popeye.
Now, for those of you who have seen some Popeye but maybe not a lot or not recently, you might be thinking, "Gemma, how is Popeye anything but one-dimensional?" He is a long-torsoed sailor who frequents land more than he does the sea and eats spinach in order to beat up a big guy so that he can win the affection of a tall, skinny, and quite odd looking woman every show. It is true, this is the basis for most episodes, but he most certainly is not one-dimensional. How many sailors have you met that sing, dance, ski, hunt, build ships, care for his father, and oh the list goes on! Not many I wager. Popeye may, at first glance, have a harsh exterior, but the more you get to know him (yes, get to know a fictional character) he has many more motivations and sympathies than the animated people of today. In fact I would say Popeye is quite a caring sailor even though the basis seems focused on him physically harming his rivals.
Well, this is not at all where this post was supposed to go, however, now you know how I feel about a sailor with abnormally large forearms. I meant to talk about I was also lucky that I got to meet all the people I did, and how I was lucky to find my job with Revolution Prep. . . but I have found that my writing really has a life and agenda of its own. So I let it run its course and I apologize that this title has very little to do with the content of the post.

Time for Truth

Blogging has made me come face to face with my true nature. Because I now type out what I think and feel and send it off for the whole world to view, I have realized that I have a somewhat fickle personality when it comes to people. I knew this before, but now I find it harder to deny when other people are reading what I only used to think. I can like and respect someone one day, and then find them to be a terribly annoying loser the next.
Those high schoolers might be snotty, but they are MY snotty 16 year olds and I was sad to see them for the final time tonight. Once the last of my students had left the room, after profusely complaining that the other class had already been let out, I felt a slow weight beginning to descend. I have taught them everything they need to know and now I must let go of their hands and send them out on their own to repeatedly color over letters A through E. The sadness that accompanies every parting I have ever made was just as strong and even more surprising than usual tonight. I attribute this to the fact that they were my first class and as annoying as they could get, they will hold a special place in my ever changeful heart.