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We were well into the naughties (2000s) when I decided that academia was no longer going to work for me (not that it ever did).  During my lustrous academic career I repeatedly came into contact with lawyers and attorneys all after the same thing, my signature on a bit of paper assigning away all my intellectual property rights associated with my projects to the Powers (something I once resented). 

Intellectual Property. 

I had obviously heard about intellectual property, I was even listed as inventor on a patent application, I understood there was a registered trade mark for a product we developed and I damn sure new about copyright, or at least how to avoid copyright infringement when drafting academic papers etc…  I even remember doing an assignment on intellectual property during my undergrad.

At the time I worked in a laboratory focused on commercialisation, I reviewed some of the laboratory’s patent applications and briefly thought I could do ‘that’.  So here I am.  I have to say getting here has been relatively straight forward from a re-qualifying point of view, what has not been straight forward was my introduction to the professional arena (away from the .....(wait for it) equality of academia)!

Fearful

I want to say I have finally decided upon a topic, but I’ll never declare an absolute.  So, for the interim, I have decided to write about my introduction into my current profession.  I am a little nervous about this, as I have included a number of personal details already, which may provide a reader with more direction than is safe (i.e. the whos and wheres).   

I am more than nervous, I am scared – not because I think anyone will read this and think twice about it, but what if…

Recognition Part 2

Recognition Part 1 was about recognising ‘your people’.  Recognition Part 2 is about recognising ‘the’ people who you will never be ready for, the people who are not quite right for you, unhealthy for you, or just plain toxic (perhaps not inherently bad people, but people you should recognise nonetheless).

This time of year is special – even if you are not Christian.  This time of year you see more of your people, spend quality time with your people (or lament that you should be, if only work would let up!), usually it is all good.  Plus, many of us get public holidays!  It is also the time of year that you see ‘the’ people.  In this instance, ‘the’ people will herein be referred to as the ‘unprofessional’ – because let’s face it; the relationship should not be personal…

I attended a Christmas lunch last week with a multitude of current colleagues, previous colleagues and various alumni.  The lunch was average, the company for the most part was splendid (many of my people were in attendance), but also in attendance were the ‘unprofessional’. 

The 2011 year was a year of growth, it was also the year I started recognising the ‘unprofessional’ for who they were, and I stopped making excuses for their actions and stopped waiting for them to change.  Instead, I started to make the changes – I distanced myself from the ‘unprofessional’, I publically committed to my beloved, I changed firms, I contributed more to me and my people, I stopped making excuses for others and instead acknowledged my own faults and attempted to act upon them.  The result was a good growth year, and no one can ask for more than that.

But, back to this lunch… it has been almost a year since I ‘enjoyed’ the company of the ‘unprofessional’ (those in question at least), and not surprising, but most certainly disappointing, they had not changed, they still required people to make excuses for them and I believe with the benefit of time, the ‘unprofessional’ now appear to be indefensible and merely excelling in guile.

The point? 

Recognition.  When making excuses for those around you becomes a full time job, sometimes the only thing to do is recognise it.  Once you start to recognise it / the ‘unprofessional’, you may recognise ‘your people’ at little more clearly and you may love them a little more dearly.

Volume

Have you ever noticed there are some people who are just inherently loud?  And I am not talking about the obnoxiously loud talkers (perhaps for a subsequent post), but the individuals who just have so much to share, have such a great capacity for love, that when they speak they are at least 10 decibels louder than anyone else!

Some of these people are ‘my people’. 

Last Saturday I hosted a cousins catch up (just the ladies).  It was the first time my husband had been a witness to one of these catch ups.  He repeatedly advised me on Sunday that they were loud; he could hear, crystal clear the conversations… or rather the gossip that was spewing out at a rate of knots, despite being hidden somewhere in the house. 

My husband found the resulting energy slightly unnerving. I know my brother-in-law finds it all too much.  I find these feelings to be disappointing, but only because I LOVE the volume.

I think the volume correlates directly to love and eagerness.  We are just like a music device – if there is a song you just love, you can’t help turn it up.  For this reason, I think ‘volume’ in a family is important, and so I am broadcasting my love straight to you. 

Recognition

During my PhD (yes, I am a sucker for punishment), I met a remarkable scientist conducting research in the same institute.   This scientists was not in the same lab, not even on the same floor, we did not lived in close proximity and our ethical position whilst seemingly both ‘left wing’ were very different.   Nevertheless, the 5 months our time overlapped at the institute was enough to establish a tangible connection, so much so that over a decade later we are still strong. 

During my undergraduate I studied various chemistry units where I met a remarkable chemist.  I knew this chemist to speak to, to engage with, but not much else.  At the time, this chemist appeared mature, controlled, level headed and goal orientated – attributes easily admired, unless you lack ALL of them.  Years later (8 to be exact), I came to work with this chemist.  The chemist is now a friend I could not live without (the chemist is still mature, controlled, level headed and goal orientated, the only difference being is that I finally (perhaps only marginally) caught up).

During my high school years I was often one of the few girls in my class.  I wore a lot of sh#%, more often than not, said sh#% was thrown at me by one individual.   Appearances are often misleading; this individual understood be back then and understands me now.

The point? 

Recognition.  Friendships seem haphazard, random, spontaneous, but in my experience they arrive exactly when you need them and exactly when you are ready for them.  If you don’t feel like you have ‘a people’, you just haven’t recognised them yet.

Inspiration & Acknowledgement goes to the two movie going stooges from last night. My people.

The Scientific Method

As mentioned in ‘About Me’, I used to be a scientist.   It was recently suggested I miss the laboratory more than I let on.  I don’t.  Though I concede I miss the cause and effect simplicity, and perhaps that is now translating into my daily activities (outside of the day job).

Wikipedia (the non-scientific source of a definition) defines a scientist as one engaging in a systematic activity to acquire knowledge, and, in a more restricted sense, a scientist is an individual who uses the scientific method.

The scientific method can now be found on my kitchen bench in the form of a biga (I now bake traditional ciabatta), a yoghurt culture (I now make yoghurt), empty jam jars (I now make jam), and muslin for draining ricotta (I now make cheese).  The scientific method can be found in the garage, where various piece of furniture are being revived.  The scientific method can be found in the garden, where the scientific method of stubbornness means I persist in planting probably toxic plants, which the dog continues to eat.

Truth be told, the scientific method was something I loved¹ and I am pleased that I have fallen for 'it' once again.

Foot note:

¹ when I was five, I created the ‘ultimate weedkiller’ for my dad.  I sprayed it on the weeds and declared that night my father would never have to weed again… I was almost right, the next day the entire lawn was burnt… the scientific method.

Two Concrete Swans

An affable man once described me as ‘particular’. 

On introduction to a friend of my mother’s, said friend exclaimed ‘you must be the black sheep of the family!’  

…

I have always wanted concrete swans.  White, black, any ole colour concrete swans.  I have no idea why – the concrete swan is not a necessity, nor is it a desirable item to have on one’s porch.  I had been looking for a damn swan for so long.  Then, about a year ago, one morning whilst a girlfriend and I were walking our dogs, I told her I had reached the conclusion that I’d never own a concrete swan… her laughter, confusion and derogatory remarks ensued for several blocks when suddenly she just stopped in her tracks and pointed across the road.  There on the verge, ready to be thrown out, were TWO concrete swans.

It was the morning of 10 November 2010.  It was the day I set up this blog account.  And since that day I have been trying to decide upon a theme.

Admittedly, I haven’t been sitting on my hands – the two concrete swans (or herein referred to as ‘the find’) helped me appreciate that anything may eventuate, so I:

·         received some more qualifications;

·         got married;

·         changed jobs;

·         reconnected with old friends;

·         started yoga again;

·         started running again; and

·         started listening to me and what I actually wanted.

Nevertheless, after a year, I am still without a theme for this blog.

I want to believe I could blog about my love of clothes, cooking, exercising, reducing my carbon footprint, my creations, my thoughts, my ideas, my travels, my renovations, my nail polish, my garden, my dog!  … blah, blah, blah

Still no decision has been made, but I needed to start.  Perhaps I should decide on two themes – after all that is the number of concrete swans I now own.