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I was in the Archaeology Department today (getting the dissertation in), and while I was there I happened to pass the Environmental Lab. I haven't been to that part of the building for over a year, since the Environmental Archaeology module was cancelled for our year this time around. I was ... kinda surprised by how much I missed it. Heh.
Not ... Not most of the theory. I'm not so good on the theory of agriculture, and while I adore the broad-strokes climatic information that can be gathered, I don't have enough of a proper head for details to trust myself properly with it. But I remember the actual project we did, examining environmental samples from several sites, and I ... I kinda miss it. Heh.
The flotation process, mostly. Which is kinda weird, since it is essentially washing dirt, laboriously and repeatedly. *smiles* But ... But there's a rhythm to it, of weighing and examining and taking notes, of changing the trays, of hefting basins full of water, of bagging the flot from the dry trays. Heh. I enjoy ... I enjoy physical tasks like that. I enjoy the rhythm of them, the satisfaction of dirt and water and heat, of results sifted up. I enjoy the ... the reality of it, and the rhythm, the way the mind can detach, just a little, and let the body do what it knows how to do. Heh. I don't know how much I'd love it if I had to do it for more than a few hours a week, but for now ... yeah. I miss it.
And the examination, after. Not so much, but I kinda miss that, too. A completely different kinda of satisfaction to the other, more intellectual. I'm no good yet at the identification part, though I can at least recognise the difference between charred barley and charred wheat, and separate seeds from grains. But before you get to that. There's a peculiar kind of pleasure to sifting through a petri dish of flot, of peering through the microscope and pulling out the seeds, the grains, the tiny shells. A sense of order coalescing, sifting through, turning over minute fragments with the tweezers, sifting and separating and pulling up from the mess some sense of order, of meaning. I really do rather enjoy that. I wouldn't trust myself to make any judgements, to interpret any of it, but the act of sorting through the evidence is pleasing to me. Heh.
Huh. I had forgotten that. I've forgotten so much of last year, lost it. Strange, maybe, that I should remember this. But there is ... A certain undemanding pleasure to it. In this small way, I make order from chaos. In this small way, I draw meaning. *smiles*
You pay for it, of course. Even after only a few weeks, you find that out. Aching back, tired arms, dry eyes that want to fall out of your head. Too long at it, the tiny black fragments all start to merge into each other. And I know I wasn't the best, either. I was slow, I had to have my dishes arranged just so, I liked to have the segmented petri dishes so I could have a compartment for grains, for seeds and for shells, per sample. I had a separate dish for things I was not sure of. I was crap at documentation (I have a tendancy towards extreme terseness in description, and also towards almost paranoid desire to document everything, so I'm very slow - I also have trouble remembering not to use shorthand - and I have trouble compiling at the end. Fine as we go, crap at the finish). And I kept wanting to study the charcoal, not for a purpose, but just to turn it over beneath the lens and see the striations. Heh. I know I bugged the hell out of my partners for the project. *grins faintly*
But I miss it, all the same. I wasn't all that good at it, but I ... liked it. It was soothing, in a way very few things are to me, outside of a library. Heh. It had ... much the same appeal to me as the ordering and stacking and tidying of books does. It is ... a small making of order from chaos, a small means of drawing meaning. Heh. I ... enjoy that. Strange, perhaps, but I do.
Not ... Not most of the theory. I'm not so good on the theory of agriculture, and while I adore the broad-strokes climatic information that can be gathered, I don't have enough of a proper head for details to trust myself properly with it. But I remember the actual project we did, examining environmental samples from several sites, and I ... I kinda miss it. Heh.
The flotation process, mostly. Which is kinda weird, since it is essentially washing dirt, laboriously and repeatedly. *smiles* But ... But there's a rhythm to it, of weighing and examining and taking notes, of changing the trays, of hefting basins full of water, of bagging the flot from the dry trays. Heh. I enjoy ... I enjoy physical tasks like that. I enjoy the rhythm of them, the satisfaction of dirt and water and heat, of results sifted up. I enjoy the ... the reality of it, and the rhythm, the way the mind can detach, just a little, and let the body do what it knows how to do. Heh. I don't know how much I'd love it if I had to do it for more than a few hours a week, but for now ... yeah. I miss it.
And the examination, after. Not so much, but I kinda miss that, too. A completely different kinda of satisfaction to the other, more intellectual. I'm no good yet at the identification part, though I can at least recognise the difference between charred barley and charred wheat, and separate seeds from grains. But before you get to that. There's a peculiar kind of pleasure to sifting through a petri dish of flot, of peering through the microscope and pulling out the seeds, the grains, the tiny shells. A sense of order coalescing, sifting through, turning over minute fragments with the tweezers, sifting and separating and pulling up from the mess some sense of order, of meaning. I really do rather enjoy that. I wouldn't trust myself to make any judgements, to interpret any of it, but the act of sorting through the evidence is pleasing to me. Heh.
Huh. I had forgotten that. I've forgotten so much of last year, lost it. Strange, maybe, that I should remember this. But there is ... A certain undemanding pleasure to it. In this small way, I make order from chaos. In this small way, I draw meaning. *smiles*
You pay for it, of course. Even after only a few weeks, you find that out. Aching back, tired arms, dry eyes that want to fall out of your head. Too long at it, the tiny black fragments all start to merge into each other. And I know I wasn't the best, either. I was slow, I had to have my dishes arranged just so, I liked to have the segmented petri dishes so I could have a compartment for grains, for seeds and for shells, per sample. I had a separate dish for things I was not sure of. I was crap at documentation (I have a tendancy towards extreme terseness in description, and also towards almost paranoid desire to document everything, so I'm very slow - I also have trouble remembering not to use shorthand - and I have trouble compiling at the end. Fine as we go, crap at the finish). And I kept wanting to study the charcoal, not for a purpose, but just to turn it over beneath the lens and see the striations. Heh. I know I bugged the hell out of my partners for the project. *grins faintly*
But I miss it, all the same. I wasn't all that good at it, but I ... liked it. It was soothing, in a way very few things are to me, outside of a library. Heh. It had ... much the same appeal to me as the ordering and stacking and tidying of books does. It is ... a small making of order from chaos, a small means of drawing meaning. Heh. I ... enjoy that. Strange, perhaps, but I do.
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