My friend Al is moving back to town this weekend. This means that I'll be seeing him on regular occasions again. He's been gone about four years, off at two different graduate schools in two different states. Somehow, we've managed to keep in touch. It helps that his love of Athens has never subsided and his parents live nearby. Hence, he's been back with some regularity.Al is a mysterious guy to me--he never seems short of friends or of new acquaintances. I, on the other hand, feel perennially short of them; I find making new friends or feeling comfortable around new people--or even many "old" people--difficult. But Al puts a person at ease.That I still know Al, after having met him over fifteen years ago, seems in some ways amazing. We went to graduate school together. We were in a writing group together, and on a few occasions did social things together. But I wouldn't have thought of him at the time as my closest pal at grad school. After he moved on, we exchanged letters and more rarely phone calls (this, before the days when e-mail was common, so we're talking real letters). In other words, we stayed in touch. I only stayed in touch with three other grad students, one of whom has since dropped out of my life and two of whom (i.e., a couple) have kept up a very irregular though wonderful acquaintance. With Facebook, LinkedIn, and the like, a lot of other friends from those days have since gotten back in touch, which is great too.But Al has become something more than a grad school buddy. He's become one of my closest friends.
Recently, Al completed a novel. I haven't read it--not that I don't want to (but I haven't been given a copy). Others have, though, and I've been told I am in it, neuroses and all. One of those neuroses is what inspired me to start doing this blog--my desire to document things in a statistical format. And so, it seems fitting, since Al is moving back to town, to document what interactions I've managed to have with Al since he left. That information, however, would have been very difficult to put together, so I've settled for this much more narrow graphic--the interaction I've had with Al in the past year. So here it is, a map of places I've hung out with Al since last May.
Much has been said about the difference between core inflation and inflation, but if my own spending habits over the course of the past two and a half months is indication, "core" inflation doesn't mean much to most of us. As one can see in the following charts, groceries (Kroger) and gas (Golden Pantry) represent most of the local spending I do from month to month (that is, what I buy locally rather than sending a check in to some distant office).
March
April
May
But what I was mostly intrigued about with regard to my personal spending was, if one were to make a map, based on these spending amounts, what the largest businesses would be versus the smallest. In other words, determining major landmarks of the town by my spending, what would they be and how large would they be? I was thinking, Flicker, a bar I frequent, would be fairly large. But in fact, despite the amount of time I spend there, the amount of dollar spending I actually do there is relatively small. Compare that to, say, Kroger, where I might spend one hour every two weeks and the amount of money I spend there. (The actual relative size of Kroger to Flicker on the map might be close to right.) Or even more so, check out Golden Pantry, a gas station. That place is tiny, but according to what I spend, it would be in relative size comparable to Kroger. Match this to how much time I spend there, which is maybe fifteen minutes a month, and one sees that these folks are really making money from their patrons (save that, the profit margin on gas is extremely low, as compared to alcohol).
The map, however, only includes the first twenty days of May. Last night, I splurged and bought a few clothing items I needed to replace and a cheap digital camera (since my old camera was kaput). If I added those in, J. C. Penney's and Wal-Mart would shoot to a higher end of spending this month and fit prominently on the map. However, in terms of repeat purchases and visits, as the charts above show, these two would likely only show up every few months. Flicker, Kroger, Golden Pantry, and the U.S. Post Office at least have consistency going for them, even if the first and last here have a relatively small portion of the dollar amount each month.
I have a blog about my reading. I have a Web site about me--mostly my work--that is infrequently updated, infrequently visited, and not very personal. Perhaps, some people might be intrigued to read personal observations and things like that. After all, I sometimes visit random people's blogs for exactly that purpose, and some folks are interesting. So this blog is about me, the personal me. Sort of. (I don't expect it to be too regular, since I'm waylaid with other projects pretty much all the time.)
I love statistics. I've been known to keep track of myself this way. So I figured that occasionally, I'd share statistical insights with others.
Today, having received this week a copy of the latest Concho River Review, which features a story of mine, I decided to ruminate on publication data. (You can purchase a copy on CRR's Web site here; it features the work of a lot of folks more established than I am and includes some fantastic poetry, my favorite being one called "Numbers" by Mary Soon Lee.) I've been waiting on this magazine and one other to appear for a while and have become somewhat anxious about them, because I need a certain number of print publications to be able to enter a contest next month. Could it be that online publication has spoiled me with its immediacy?
So I look at the facts. Here is how long it has taken for publications of mine to appear after acceptance in the last three years.
As you can see, most publications occur within one month. However, there are a few that took many months. Only three of the publications are print journals, and of those, two of them are in the more than twelve months category, with one of them being in the three to four months category. Print publication obviously takes a bit longer.
Does the same hold up for time that one submits a piece to time it is accepted? Let's see:
Here one can see that, contrary to my expectations (and those of some writer friends), the longer a journal has a story does not equate with the more likely it is to be accepted. Generally, if the story is going to be accepted, it's going to happen sooner rather than later. The print journals here fall anywhere in the three to six months camp. Curiously, the more than twelve months acceptance: it was thirteen months, by an online journal. Usually, I assume the piece was lost or rejected after twelve months, so that acceptance was a welcome surprise.
Looking at this, I guess all those publications that have been holding on to something of mine for six months, I should expect rejection from, since that would seem to be more the norm. Or would it? What I'd really need is a chart showing the percentage breakdown of time spent versus rejection/acceptance, but I'll save that for another day.
