Blog v2.1

New real estate

2006-08-02T22:34:00.000-04:00

I'm testing out some new digs. So far it's encouraging, so if you happen to stumble by here, more recent stuff is now here.

Apparently the Stars are Deaf, too

2006-07-13T18:16:00.000-04:00

My new phone has this fancy thing called "Sprint Power Vision." It's basically their version of all sorts of streaming entertainment stuff you can get on your phone. As a condition of my rebate, I need to pay the $15 fee for it the first month or so. After that I can cancel if I want, but I figured I'd take this time to fully explore it in case I really like it and want to keep it. It turns out that there's not much included in that $15. You presumably get unlimited data transfer, but just about everything you'd download (music, ringtones, etc), costs extra, so it's not terribly enticing to me. The streaming stuff similarly costs. I'm not entirely sure I'll keep it once I don't have to, but I'm giving it time to make up my mind. Anyway, one of the things that you do get free is one channel of Sirius radio, the pop music channel. For quite a few years I'd written off all of pop as drek no self-respecting human being should subject themselves to, but from messing around with iTunes, it almost seems like maybe pop might be experiencing a turnaround. For the first time in quite a while, there are current artists and songs I like, and might actually buy. So I spent some time this morning listening to the station and maybe I was just unlucky for 20 minutes, but I don't think the worst of pop is yet gone. Which leads me to Paris Hilton. Yeah, I know, making fun of her is like shooting fish in a barrel, but seriously. I'm well aware that just because someone didn't start out singing doesn't mean they wouldn't be good at it. I mean, there's a part of me, albeit small (and when I say small, I mean eensy-weensie, teeny-tiny, microscopic) part of me that would consider auditioning for American Idol. But I think it's safe to say that Paris' voice is just as plastic and fake as the rest of her. If you want proof, I direct you to the end of her song, where she makes a feeble attempt to improv or do whatever music types call it when the singer stops singing the song as written. Now I can only imagine that her ~~puppetmasters~~ producers would have loved for her to go for the glory note here. End on a high, yes? Instead, she makes a sound I can only compare to a dying cat. Don't believe me? Take a listen and see for yourself. And then welcome to my hell, where that damn song will not get out of your head ALL DAMN DAY.

Happy Birthday to Me - Materialism at its Finest

2006-07-11T10:59:00.000-04:00

The older I get, the harder it is for me to tell people what I want for Christmas and birthdays. I always feel like minimalism has to be a good thing, i.e. I should only get something if I really need it. And every year for the past handful of years I come to the conclusion that I really don't need anything. This causes a wave of guilt, as I lead a relatively blessed existence and at this point, I don't know if there is actually anything on the market that can make my life better. Ben's reasoning is much different. In his view, the fact that I don't need something, but simply want it, makes it the perfect gift. Accordingly, for my birthday this year (10 days early, but Chile is intervening), I have received this beautiful thing. Do I need it? Certainly not. My old cellphone was perfectly functional, if decidedly lacking in bells and whistles. And I adore bells and whistles. It's definitely fun, though. My goal is to get a picture of everyone in my address book so that I can see their faces when they call. It's indulgent, yes, but at least I can rest easier knowing we got it at a discount, once we reminded Sprint that they were only asked to fix my old phone, not replace it, and if they chose to take that shortcut because of Katrina or whatever, that's no reason to take away my deserved 2-year rebate. And I can't imagine needing more features on a phone than this one's got for quite some time. However, this is the same person who once uttered the words, "A camera on a cellphone? Why in hell would anyone ever want that?" so we'll see. ;)

Therapy? Who needs it?

2006-06-20T23:01:00.000-04:00

Any pain and suffering I felt because of the painfully long months teaching bratty undergrads is thus alleviated. For I am now the proud owner of this thing: Seriously, how could you not look at this thing and instantly feel all the stress and anguish you experienced melt away? I am a truly blessed person. Not least because the giver of this magnificent creation has not even a passing acquaintance with irony. I was told that it's "sparkly" and "would make me think of beer." Yes, well, I have to admit that holding it in my hand and not knowing what to say about it, I was more wishing that someone would hand me a double shot of Jose. And I LOATHE Jose. Oh, and I have to admit to some photo editing shenanigans. You see, as far as I can tell, all electrical outlets in MA are upside-down. And because this thing has a polar plug (in that both prongs are not the same size), I actually have to plug it in upside-down: Four months of grief? All forgotten! It's sparkly! And doesn't look trashy at all, no no no! My life is complete.

An open letter to the dumbass that put his stupid hippie shit on my car

2006-06-10T17:45:00.000-04:00

Dear whoever you are: I suppose you think you're pretty clever, putting that "Violation: SUV driver" ticket on our car today. I'd like to inform you that it is you that is in violation: of stereotyping and ignorance. Allow me to detail just how ridiculous your little demonstration was, as well as how it DOESN'T help your cause. First of all, you should be embarrassed to have selected our car for the simple reason that it is slightly truck looking. Our Honda CR-V only has a V4 engine, and routinely averages 26 miles to the gallon, which is higher than some of the cars you have deemed acceptable (the Subaru Legacy, Ford Taurus, Mercedes E Class, and BMW 325 xl wagon). In fact, according to the state of Massachusetts, it is a station wagon, not an SUV or even a truck. Is your face burning yet? It should be. Secondly, by your suggestion to "Carpool!" you are assuming that we drive our car for significant commutes each day, which is also incorrect. We are students who walk to campus 99% of the time and only drive our car short distances for grocery shopping and other necessities. You should be ashamed for assuming that the driver of our car was some lazy, mid-life-crisis-suffering bald man. Oh, and while we're on the subject of that? How dare you make condescending statements about why we own this particular car? We didn't watch ads or anything of the sort. Moreover, we did not even purchase this car, it was a gift, so selected because at the time, Ben played hockey, and you obviously have no idea the amount of cargo space is required for hockey gear. Not to mention the fact that it has sustained us through several moves, one halfway across the country. Yes, we DO need this car. Fuck you for suggesting that someone is compensating for something. Oh, and your flippant "Buy a hybrid" comment? Again, we are students, on limited income, and cannot afford to buy ANY car right now, which is why we have this one to drive until it dies. Surely your bleeding heart, conservationalist sensibilities can appreciate that. So we will not "buy a hybrid." Why don't you buy a clue? I understand that we have an oil crisis, I find it just as ridiculous as you do that people buy H2s to drive around cities. Understand that THERE IS A DIFFERENCE, and all people who don't drive teeny hatchbacks are not gas-guzzling waste-makers. Awareness is great but so is NOT PISSING OFF PEOPLE WHO WOULD SUPPORT YOU BY LEAVING SELF-RIGHTEOUS SHIT ON THEIR CARS. If I were like you, right about now I would make some pithy comment about your sexual habits, but I won't because I am intelligent and you are not. Have a nice day. Smooches, Natalie

Mountains make me ill

2006-06-07T23:58:00.000-04:00

. . . apparently, since I spent a fair portion of my time in WY feeling like I was gargling battery acid. Why was this? Not sure. Alcohol? Possible, but not likely. Especially since I wasn't feeling great before I started drinking, and actually started drinking to distract myself from how I was feeling. Unfortunately, that backfired in a big way once the (relatively little) alcohol I consumed really hit the bloodstream. Still, I've been much drunker, even at altitude, before. So, altitude? Maybe, and probably a contributing factor, but it's not like it was the first time being there and yet all I wanted to do was hide and sleep. Nerves? Ding ding, we [probably] have a winner. I've never quite stopped worrying that my in-laws can't stand me, and this being an event honoring two of them in particular, the pressure really never wore off. And an unexpected guest did not help matters any. Here's the thing. I'm not entirely sure why this is, but I have an incredible, petrifying fear of vomitting. Me or anyone else. That fear gets ramped up if there's any possibility that it could happen in public. We all remember that kid, who didn't make it out of the classroom in time - hell, some people were that kid. I was not. But it made an impression on me, and years later, I am determined not to be that kid. So whenever I feel even slightly off in public, my adrenaline kicks in and every nerve in my body screams out "GET OUT OF HERE NOW." In most cases, nothing happens. But I'm never completely sure that nothing will, so I panic. Intensely. Heart pounding in ears, chest tight, trouble swallowing, the whole bit. And in WY, this feeling was the most intense at the absolute worst time. So as a result, family and friends of family all think I am a lush who was completely hungover at a hugely inappropriate time. Thankfully I've been back at sea level long enough to cast off the "I will never drink again, not one drop," feeling and return back to "Well, ok, but I'm never getting a hangover again, no sirree." Ben swears it wasn't a hangover. I don't think anyone believes him, including me.

The Big Gripe - reflections on my time in the undergrad pit of hell

2006-05-25T21:54:00.000-04:00

What follows is something I started writing a few days ago, on the last day that I had anything to do with my class. I didn't exactly finish it because some friends came to town, which ended up being fabulous therapy for my enormous rage. I'm posting it anyway, though, because it was what I was thinking at the time, and the fact that it still exists makes me feel a lot better about everything. I decided a while back that I wasn't going to write much about my TA job, simply because in six months, I don't want to come back and read entry after entry of spewed vitriol about it. But now that it's over, I'm giving myself permission to have one big vent and get all this off my chest once and for all. It's not that every moment of the last three months was complete and utter torture, and it's not like I absolutely hated everyone involved. But teaching an intro undergrad course has the tendency to make one very surly and bitter against all of humanity. You hate the students that seem hellbent on manipulating, using, and mistreating you. You hate the Powers That Be for assuming you are being manipulated, used, and mistreated on the offchance that you argue for a particular student. And you hate your fellow staff for, when finding out that after months of said manipulation, using, and mistreatment, you finally had enough and became sturdier than a doormat, remarking "God, you're mean. I'd hate to see your evals." It's a fine line with teaching. You want to be as helpful as you can, but you are an authority figure, and as such, have to preserve that proprietary line. So much of the time I felt like the other TAs were trying to be the students' friends. Sitting with them in class and turning in their problem sets for them, stuff like that. I never wanted to go there because while I want to be liked by my students, I felt that it was incredibly pathetic to solicit their approval, I guess. So if I'm the only one who cares about that sort of thing, yeah, I'm going to be the bad guy in the end. But if I tell a student that I think his argument for a regrade to recoup 18 lost points on the exam is the height of sketchiness, I certainly don't think that makes me "mean." These kids need a hard dose of reality if they honestly believe that the rules don't apply to them. Which leads me to the students. Now, normally I hate that sort of "In my day, we never. . . ", but quite honestly, in my day, I really never gave my TAs as much grief as some of these kids feel intitled to. You lost 18 points because you forgot how the diagram was oriented? Tough. Life sucks, check your work next time. I always compare this class to when I took physics, simply because it was a similar situation of "Why is this required, I'll never need this." And on one exam, I confused charge and capacitance. Both start with C, right? Could happen to anyone. And it hurt me, big time. But I seriously NEVER considered that to be anyone's fault but my own. Self-hatred for stupid mistakes is a powerful thing, but it's something we all have to learn to deal with. If you screwed something up on an exam IT IS YOUR FAULT AND NO ONE ELSE'S. Honestly, I thought this whole idea of "regrades" to be absurd. Math errors absolutely should be fixed, but WE decide what material to test, and we decide how to ask the questions and if you didn't study well enough to answer them, YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE. After a while, it's hard not to feel murderous rage at the extreme disrespect I got from some students. There'll be students that demand I tell them what will be on the exam and how much it'll be worth. Me: "I don't really know." Student: "Then ESTIMATE!" Rrowr. And seriously, if you didn't respect me enough to come to class, what on earth makes you think that I'm going to be the slightest bit inclined to lift a finger to do any special favors for you? Even if I did know what the cutoff for A was going to be and "where you stand," do you think I'm going to go through the bother to find out, since you so clearly decided I wasn't worth your time? Not so much. I'm not your fucking secretary, they don't pay me enough, I don't work for you. That said, if you're going to come, for God's sake, take an interest and stop giving me that look! You know the one, where it's evident that you think I am the lamest creature that God ever made flesh. Maybe you think it's all really lame and stupid, but you have to learn it anyway, and I am actually trying to help, so show some Goddamn appreciation! Thankfully, all this is, for the most part, over. I may have to grade part of one more exam, and I occasionally get emails from people wondering why they got what they got, but since I can't really tell them anything in that regard, I'm ignoring those emails for now. I'm a bit afraid of seeing my evaluations because I'm worried I'll cry (and I'm not exaggerating - I honestly do worry I will cry), so I may just forget that those exist as well. Now all I have to do is remember how to do real work!

I guess I should plan on eating for three

2006-05-22T20:10:00.000-04:00

You know, it's not like I didn't already have to worry about (eventually) giving birth to multiples, seeing as my grandmother is a twin, and Ben has brothers who are twins. Comes now this report that eating dairy raises your odds of having twins. Great. Just great. I can't give up cheese. Can't. Do. It. The mere thought of never being able to eat mac 'n cheese ever again almost makes me suicidal. So I suppose we'll just have to buy two cribs right off the bat, or something. Mmmm, quesadillas, fetuccine alfredo, pizza, grilled cheese. . . Nope. Not going to happen. I wonder if I would be able to handle twins. Hell, most days I wonder if I could handle one baby. I figure I am a prime candidate for hardcore PPD, and I can only imagine how I would feel with two screaming babies instead of just one. I think it's impossible to get married and not at least think about the possibility of having kids NOW, even if the plan is to wait, wait wait. But the more I read about real women, who don't get nannies and don't have a ritzy lifestyle (yes, I'm looking at you over there, Julia Roberts), and so see another side to the "miracle of life", namely that you are fully responsible for a being that cannot tell you how it feels or what it wants. And you will be tied to it for the rest of your life. Sobering stuff. In all likelyhood, I will have kids, but I'd like to know if this feeling of terror goes away at some point. Because I could end up missing my childbearing years waiting to feel like I could be a good mother after all. Wow, that's cheery thinking. Maybe I should have some more cheese.

Me and Phil (eyebrow edition)

2006-05-19T23:35:00.000-04:00

Me and Phil (eyebrow edition)
Originally uploaded by natalieclipse.

Overnight parking in New Haven: $16
Round trip Metro North Ticket: $28
One night in the Ramada New Yorker: $231
Entry to TARCon: $50
A Stella Artois: $5

Up close and personal with The Philiminator: PRICELESS, MAN!

I'm going to get mushy. . .

2006-04-23T21:17:00.000-04:00

. . . because nine years ago today, I told a gangly, mop-topped boy that I would "be his girlfriend." And life has not been the same since. I've had a lot of people tell me how amazing it is that Ben and I met so young and are still together. And I agree, don't get me wrong. But I get the impression that people think our relationship started out really intensely and has faded, while if anything, it's the opposite. I jokingly tell people that we were just too stubborn to break up. The funny thing is that our relationship feels different now than when we started, and so much better. I certainly don't feel psychic, but somehow, we had to have known that if we worked really hard and tried really hard, that the rewards would be immesurable. It's like learning to use the Force or something, you have this unbridled power that you have to learn to channel and focus. I've learned a lot and I feel like I've grown an absolute ton. I have done a lot of things that I would never have had the guts to do if I didn't have a permanent cheerleader in my corner. I can't even begin to express how lucky I am. And Ben, if you see this, here's to many many more years. I love you!

Newsweek weighs in on the geek debate

2006-04-03T23:26:00.000-04:00

According to them, I am "stuck in the last century", although their criteria seem to be based on how many toys one owns. Maybe I'll post something of substance once I'm not exhausted and/or whiny. So in other words, not for a while.

Not really a shock. . .

2006-03-30T17:48:00.000-05:00

Pure Nerd
69 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 34% Dork

For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.
The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.
Congratulations!

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Overheard at the gym

2006-03-23T22:51:00.000-05:00

[Alanis Morrisette's You Oughta Know plays in the background] Ben: Oh Alanis, why are you so mad at Uncle Joey? Natalie: [laughs] Ben: That's who this song is about, right? Natalie: That's the rumor. Ben: Dave Foley. . . .no. . . Natalie: Coulier. Ben: Right. Dave Foley is the guy from the Kids in the Hall. Well, those are the Daves I know, I know. [if you are familiar with Kids in the Hall, this is funny. No? Well, I'll just be in the corner then, whimpering.]

2006-03-22T21:04:00.000-05:00

Digging around in my bag for my iPod yesterday, I found a pair of cheap, plastic earbuds. They're leftover from our trip to Florida last November. Song airlines (which I so wish was not going out of business) gives them out as you board the plane, so that you can use the TV on the back of the headrest in front of you. I grabbed some, but didn't use them, since my own are more comfortable. Last November was absolutely exhausting, in every sense of the word. I still think about it because it was a very turmultuous period and at the time, everything was just blowing past me. When I think about it now, it almost feels like someone else lived it, or like I'm watching a rerun of some really silly TV show. I spent nearly a month where I either wasn't sleeping, or wasn't getting any rest from the fitful sleep I was getting. It was enough to get me back home, through the funeral, and back to Boston again, but there wasn't much left after that. When Ben and I got to Florida, we led an absolutely charmed existence for that first day. I think of all the time I've spent down there, it was one of the happiest days in my memory. We checked in, visited the spot where we got engaged, had a fantastic dinner, and actually found a fairly secluded spot to watch the fireworks. After that we wandered back to the hotel, and since we weren't really ready to call it a night just yet, we spent about an hour or so in the hotel bar listening to this piano player who was maybe 6'5" and 150 lbs. He played silly songs and we all sang along with him (alcohol helped in this endeavor quite a bit). When the bar closed, we stumbled back to the room and I congratulated myself for adding Disney World to the ever growing list of Places I Have Been Intoxicated. The trip could only get better, right? Well, not quite. It's funny that when I watch video now, and I see myself the next morning, I have this instintive feeling of "If only I had. . . " Because, I don't get sick. I just don't. But I did that day. And even though I feel like I should have been able to stop it, what was I going to do? Somehow, probably thanks to the 12 or so hours I spent on planes that week, some happy virus was making itself comfy in my exhausted, stressed out system. Still, I did what I do - I pushed through and did my best mind-over-matter performance. Now I'm pissed because I feel like I was gypped out of my vacation that I looked forward to for so long because my body failed me. I spent so much energy pretending I felt fine that I think I missed a lot of the carefree fun I usually have there. So more than ever, I'm desperate to go back. I can't let that memory stand very long as the last time I was there. Right now I'm determined to get back. Next March. I'll get my vacation again, and next time, it'll be everything I wanted it to be.

Face the firing squad

2006-03-19T17:01:00.000-05:00

Friday was supposed to be an uneventful day. Work, lecture, work, meeting, gym (quick aside - I've almost gotten my wedding body completely back, and all it took was lifting 2-3 times a week and treadmilling/yoga/pilates in the offtime. How simple, who knew?), evening stuff, home. And it almost was. But that meeting, which wasn't supposed to be any big thing, threw me into a complete tailspin, from which it took me maybe 18 hours to fully recover. Why? Well, prelims are officially upon me. Prelims were heretofore only known as this mystical ritual completed roughly one-third of the way through the graduate career, painful, but necessarily. Everyone does it, everyone survives, except those who don't, and clearly they weren't cut out for this anyway, right? The meeting was intended to suss out the specifics of what is to happen, or more accurately, the pain that the department plans to inflict on each and every one of us. So what happens? You write a 1o page proposal on a project you will start that will ostensibly be at least the foundation for your thesis (whether that actually happens is another story entirely). This proposal has to be written for someone scientifically inclined, but not necessarily in your field, so given this, 10 pages is not a lot. The writing isn't so much a big deal, though, as what comes afterward. You give this proposal to three faculty members who are not your advisor. Two are selected by you, one is chosen by the department, ideally as random and unrelated as possible. These three people corner you in a room where you supposedly will give a 15 minute talk on this proposal. Of course, you will not make it more than 2 minutes in before they start bombarding you with questions. This is the part where you are essentially responsible for every bit of information that you have "learned" on the department's watch. No notes, no books, nothing. Just your brain against 3 more experienced and knowledgeable ones. They torture you until you get bored, and then kick you out of the room so that they can talk about what they think of you. They bring you back in, tell you everything you did wrong, and then you wait - usually a few weeks or more - for the department to tell you if you held up sufficiently under the barrage. In case it isn't abundantly clear by now, I am terrified. I don't know that I do terribly well under pressure, and this will be probably the most intense situation I have ever been in. It certainly doesn't help that people in the know describe this whole ordeal as "painful." Literally painful. There are stories of people passing out, of people looking like they will pass out, or worse. How can I do this? It's bad enough that even giving group meeting, where there is no pressure at all, causes my mind to go completely blank so that I stutter like a moron while I try desperately to reboot my brain? The worst part of all of this is the longterm nature of it. We are required to take the prelim before November. As in, 6 months from now. I don't know how to cope with this much time. I simultaneously want to postpone the suffering and rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. My rational brain says that the most reasonable thing to do is to take it in September, thus allowing myself to finish teaching and calmly write my proposal while relearning every ounce of biology that has entered and exited my ears. But on the other hand, September? How on earth can I have this hanging over my head until then? How can I enjoy my summer knowing that something excruciating is waiting just over the horizon? The best thing to do is to just get started and do what I can. My first task is scheduling. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get 4 high powered academics into a room at once (3 executioners + 1 advisor, the defense attorney if you will)? So I know it's not impossible because I will do it. But it's hard to look up and see the storm clouds moving in and not allow myself to just run, run, run to get out of the path of the tornado.

Ding!

2006-03-02T22:18:00.000-05:00

I have now been teaching for almost a month. I wish I could say that it now feels completely normal and natural, but I'm not quite there yet. Still, I consider it a success that I've been able to (mostly) silence that evil voice in the back of my head that screams OH MY GOD YOU ARE DOING SO MUCH DAMAGE THEY WILL ALL FAIL AND BLAME YOU OH GOD YOU SUCK. I don't think they're going to fail. They're really smart people, and I flatter myself thinking that maybe, just a little bit, they "get it" a little more because of me. The first time I felt a little flutter was when I saw their problem set scores, which were mostly quite high. Even if they are graded leniently, I still think it's not trivial that most of them scored 18, 19, or 20 out of 20. The second time I felt that was today. I knew that they were struggling with a particular concept that (in my opinion) got a pretty slapdash treatment in lecture. So I planned my own mini-lecture wherein I went through it slower and in more detail. They were asking questions and as I answered them, every once in a while I'd see their eyes get a little bigger and if I had a Hollywood sound artist doing my life, you'd hear the choirs of angels, or at least a bell ringing. And that? Is a good feeling. As is having students coming up to you after class and saying "Thanks for that, it really helped." Which is not to say that I expect them to recite "O Captain My Captain" or stand on their desks , but I'd like to think that they won't all rip me a new one on the evals at the end of the semester.

I hate you MSNBC

2006-02-23T21:37:00.000-05:00

You are stupid. Really really stupid. Why would you want to SPOIL PEOPLE WATCHING YOUR GODDAMN NETWORK with your stupid website? Bastards.

Zack Morris at the Olympics!

2006-02-16T23:26:00.000-05:00

Ok, so it's not really Zack Morris. But, separated at birth, no? Ben and I decided it would be just like NBC to, in their desperation to get people to care just a little about the Olympics, dig up an old cult classic character and enter him in the competition as a ratings stunt. They even found his old wardrobe! All he's missing is the acid washed jeans. Actually, this is Jeffrey Buttle, the official Torino bronze medalist (hey look at that! The acid washed jeans are on the official website). So congrats to him. But dude - even Mark-Paul Gosselaar left the 80s. You really can do the same. Really.

Blizzard!

2006-02-12T12:44:00.000-05:00

So winter finally decided to show his face. Bastard. I took these from inside the apartment. Are you kidding me? I ain't going out in that! Actually that's not true - I've already been to the lab today. Neither wind nor cold nor big fricken snowstorm will keep me from my scheduled experiments. Rain might, though. And of course, since it's Sunday, the maintenance guys can't possibly bothered to come here and shovel, just like last year. The roads aren't that terrible just yet, which is good. Although for some weird reason, when there hasn't been snow in a while, people just forget how to drive in it, and the next snow that comes, there are car pileups everywhere. We passed a taxi that lost a battle with a tree on the way into the lab. He was likely barreling down the street like a moron, tried to turn, brake, or both, and started spinning out of control. People! It snows here every year. It's not a novelty. You should know how to deal with this. Of course, this is the situation where I thank my lucky stars and whatever gods there be that we have a car with 4-wheel drive and high clearance. Ben summed it up quite succinctly when we got home. "This is so cool. There used to be a snowbank here. And then I drove over it with my car."

Should I peek out from behind this tree?

2006-02-06T12:06:00.000-05:00

Sars has a little ditty called "Friendships Have a Lifespan," and it is a philosophy that I embrace completely and totally. Throughout your life, you grow and change and so it stands to reason that you will need things from people during certain periods of your life that you will not need later on. I've had lots of people in my life come and go, and as I look back on it, I'm getting better at recognizing what exactly it was at that time I was looking for, and the events that changed me such that the relationships stagnated and there wasn't anywhere else to go. And one thing I really strive for is not to dwell on it. We're not friends anymore, it doesn't matter what happened then, or what they're doing now, or whatever. All of this is fine and good, but what happens when, for reasons beyond my control, this is all thrust into the forefront again? If someone is looking for me, or there's some sort of event or something like that? I don't know how to feel about this. It's not appealing to me to resume contact with someone who expects me to be a certain way, since I've certainly changed, and I can't be something I'm not anymore just to satisfy someone else's needs. On the other hand, I could be wrong about that, and so shouldn't I just grow up already? Still, on the few occasions that I've on my own been curious about people's lives now, it makes me feel a little bit ill to find out anything new about these people. It's like I peeked in someone's private things, or listened in on a conversation I wasn't meant to hear. So maybe I don't want to accept that they've changed, or something. The bigger point here seems to be that once upon a time, I had friends for certain reasons. If those reasons no longer apply, what else is left? Why drag something out just because? A big part of me would like to leave the past where it is, even if it means avoiding situations where I might have to face it. But it seems like such a cowardly thing to do. Am I just being juvenile?

The Kong Show

2006-01-30T14:10:00.000-05:00

So Ben and I finally broke through our laziness and actually went to a movie. We were debating between King Kong and Walk the Line. Kong won out because we figured that seeing Joaquin Phoenix's face blown up 100X really doesn't add anything to the viewing experience. I thought the movie was good. It was the fastest three hour movie I've seen - even more so than the Lord of the Rings movies. I know it's gotten a lot of flack for being bloated and excessive, and there were certainly scenes that could have ended up on the cutting room floor, but on the whole, I didn't mind. What I did mind is that Peter Jackson apparently had to raid the entire Jim Henson creature shop, or wherever he got all those disgusting giant insects. Peter, seriously - you got your point across that the island is the land that time forgot. I barely tolerated Shelob. Did you really have to push it so much? I literally had nightmares of snakes and creepy-crawlies in my hair. Really, though, other than that the movie was very good, and worth seeing. Oh, and confidential to Nicole Kidman - you should send your ex-husband a fruit basket. Because that is the ONLY reason I can fathom for your accolades and big movie contracts considering that your gal-pal Naomi can act circles around you, is still so much more beautiful even after days and days in the jungle, and - here's the big point - is far, far less insipid than you are. I'm just saying, Hollywood is a strange, strange place.

Dear Michael/Mike Vick,

2006-01-26T22:13:00.000-05:00

There's no delicate way to say this, so I'll just come right out with it. Your brother? Is a punk. Honestly. It's not just that he was stupid enough to stomp on another player's leg on national freaking television, it's that he waited barely a week before pulling a gun on teenagers. A real winner, this one. And those weren't even the beginning of his problems. Now he says he's going pro, in the fine tradition of such upstanding citizens as one Maurice Clarett, who, you may have heard, had an absolutely excellent rookie season in the NFL playing for, well, nobody once the season started. So, what am I trying to say here? Michael/Mike/whatever you're going by these days, I know he's your brother, and you probably feel some sense of obligation, but dude. Seriously. Do not defend him. It certainly doesn't make him look any better, and it just makes you look like a moron. "He didn't do anything wrong"? Please, everything he's done wrong is a matter of public record. And what "truth" is going to come out that could possibly save his sorry ass? That he was brandishing a squirt gun? Come on, now. You can't pick your family, and no one is going to expect you to stick your neck out for this miscreant who clearly doesn't deserve it. In fact, they will probably respect you more if you don't feed them this line of bullshit. Just stick to doing what you do best, being one of the most overrated quarterbacks in the league, and have fun at the Pro Bowl, you not even top ten passer, you. Kisses, N

I totally called it

2006-01-23T23:11:00.000-05:00

Now I'm not what you would call an expert on TV, although thanks to the TiVo, I'd like to think I'm becoming a bit of a connoisseur. However, sitcoms have been virtually foreign to me since the 3rd season of Friends or so. Despite this, I have confidence in my ability to spot a lousy one from 20 paces. Which brings me to ABC's Emily's Reasons Why Not, the Heather Graham vehicle that was clearly expected to save the comedy division. ABC promoted the hell out of it - the mere fact that I know the name speaks to just how many spots I was forced to watch during Monday Night Football (which, while we're on the subject? Moving it to ESPN is either the best or worst thing ever to happen to it. I'll decide when I see who the commentators will be). Still, I was fairly certain I'd spotted a turkey. Why? The name. I am convinced that 10% of the success of sitcoms is due to casting, 20% to writing, and 70% to the name. It's not necessarily that the name has to be one word, although it helps (Friends, Seinfeld, Cheers, etc), but it needs to roll off the tongue. It needs to be expressive, but simple. "Emily's Reasons Why Not" was a clunker of a title to me. It was awkward to say, and didn't sum up the show. Why not what? Certain that I was right in my assessment, I gave it 5 episodes until the inevitable boot. Apparently I overestimated.

Reasons why I hate today:

2006-01-23T10:27:00.000-05:00

1. It's Monday 2. It's snowing 3. Despite the fact that my jacket is a ski parka, the hood is not remotely waterproof 4. Because of 2) and 3) above, I get to look like a drowned rat at work ALL DAY 5. It's snowing 6. I have ethics class 3 times this week, which directly inhibits my ability to do any of the experiments I want to do. 7. The above reminds me that I start teaching undergrad brats in a week and a half and will likely not get much done then either. 8. Did I mention that it's snowing?

Invaders III

2006-01-20T15:01:00.000-05:00

In our last installment of Invaders, the mice would not be denied as they seemingly defied the laws of physics by sliding under a ridiculously small opening to torture the apartment residents once more. Unfortunately for him, the peanut-butter-loaded mousetrap had other ideas. A quick patch later and the tenants have won the war! Right? Wrong, apparently, as the tenants awoke this morning to discover that some unknown presence shares their affinity for Peanut Butter Hershey Kisses. The intrepid intruder found his way in, crawled over the stove and onto the countertop, where, after examining and rejecting a large tomato, he stumbled on the loot. Apparently deciding that one kiss was plenty, he dragged it back over to the stove where he commenced unwrapping and gnawing on his treat. His dining pleasure was then presumably interrupted by some outside factors, and the invader scampered off into the night. The tenants then discovered that the only thing separating the invaders from their food was a wad of steel wool and duct tape, both of which have been replaced, as the old stuff was not doing the job. This would all be funny if it wasn't so disgusting.

The TiVolution!

2006-01-08T12:14:00.000-05:00

I have fallen in love again. With my TiVo. Oh my God, what a brilliant invention this is. It's only been hooked up for about a week (cummutively, that is - about 4 days in Green Bay to test it, and about 3 days here), but we've already accumulated a large list of shows to watch. About half of these are ones we picked, and the other half are ones that the TiVo lovingly selected for us. That's right. We are so bonded with the TiVo that the TiVo feels like it really knows us. Of course, after recording episodes of Everyday Italian and Easy Entertaining with Michael Chiarello, I was somewhat horrified when the TiVo proposed 30 Minute Meals, Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee, and Emeril Live, but it also did recommend Iron Chef and Good Eats, so it's forgiven for the moment. I am seriously looking at this as a method to make myself a cultured TV watcher. I'm pretty proud of my selections so far. We have Seasons Passes for EI and EE, plus Project Runway, I Shouldn't Be Alive, and Mythbusters. And I have a wishlist for Hugh Laurie, so that I don't miss him on late night shows plugging House anymore. A Season's Pass for Amazing Race will be forthcoming, but not yet, as I don't really care to see 6 or 7 again, and the new season won't start for quite a while. The best part of all this is that I won't be stuck anymore watching the same stupid programs that I always do because there's nothing else on. Viva la TiVolution!

Beware the Iron Chef with the produce

2006-01-06T21:16:00.000-05:00

Natalie: Look at Sakai. He's so pissed. He's clearly thinking "Chen gets the cleaver, Morimoto gets to just look tough, but I? I have the stupid pear." Ben: But think about it. Chen is saying "I will kill you with this cleaver." Morimoto is saying "I will kill you with my bare hands." But Sakai is saying "I will kill you with this pear." Now that's badass - the ability to kill you with a pear.

Apparently it wasn't just me

2006-01-06T13:47:00.000-05:00

Did anyone have a good 2005? I ask because it seems like in just about every yearly sum-up (family, friends, the 2005/6 ball drop, even the Nields) there's a plea for 2006 to be a better year because 2005, well, sucked. I mean, I went to 4 weddings last year, so obviously good things happened for some people, but it seems like almost everyone in the world is happy that it's over and that things can only go up from here.

Google has failed you, young wannabe

2005-12-31T01:29:00.000-05:00

Apparently a relative of this guy accidentally stumbled on this site in his quest to be cool. I'm sorry I can't provide any answers to "how to spike your hair like a gotti" - actually, forget that. I'm not sorry. If I distracted you from making yourself look as ridiculously toolish as those fools for even a few seconds, my conscience will be at ease.

A long December

2005-12-31T01:11:00.000-05:00

. . . and there's reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last. Lord, I hope so. I am a bad, bad blogger. I leave cryptic comments and then disappear for a month and a half. Several times I thought about writing, but ultimately couldn't bring myself to do it. One reason being that I'm a lot more cautious now about what I will actually talk about. It's unlikely that any of my family will ever find this, but better safe than sorry anyway. Really though, there is very little that I could have said that wouldn't have involved a lot of whining and feeling sorry for myself. Because I've spent a lot of my time since mid-November doing little else. I feel like I've spent the last month and a half in somewhat of a fugue state. Everything I encounter in my life is familiar, but still feels foreign. It's almost like going backwards in time like in "The Langoliers". Everything is a little bit flat, a little bit stale, a little bit wrong. Some people aren't here anymore, and some people are, but aren't the way you remember them. I'm not the way I remember me, a lot of the time. I'm tired a lot. Not necessarily physically, since I have been sleeping, but interacting with other people saps a lot of my energy. This has sort of led me to become a hermit, just putzing around at home on my computer. I'm really bad at interacting. I don't know how to talk about what's "been up with me." I hate being a downer and piling my woes on others (especially since they don't even make sense to me - how on earth would I explain them to other people?), but I also don't feel like pretending that it's all been business as usual. It hasn't - I'm not quite in full functioning order right now. No one out here is really ready to see me in a low period - hell, even at my best I'm not a bubbly enough personality to hold their attention. So rest is my goal. Hopefully by the end of January or so I'll be feeling more myself. I'll certainly need the energy to convince legions of engineers that biology is worthwhile.

2005-11-16T07:05:00.000-05:00

"For a life well spent On this earth we're lent Will be marked by the void you have left." -Eddie From Ohio

I am master of the occult!

2005-11-15T20:58:00.000-05:00

Or something, since someone actually found my page searching Jeeves for "what do you say when performing a seance?" Huh. My talents amaze even me.

I have seen the vortex of evil

2005-11-15T20:46:00.000-05:00

...and it is Chicago O'Hare. It is the pit of despair, where you run full-tilt from one end of the concourse to the other, only to see the doors slammed in your face. I hate O'Hare. I routinely pay extra for flights simply because they completely avoid O'Hare. It's not terribly difficult to stay away from O'Hare. Unless, of course, you're looking to blow town, and FAST. Turns out, this is expensive to do, and in our attempt to save a few pennies (like 100,000 of them), we decided to risk it and go. I was okay with this until we pressed the magic "Book" button. Then I started panicking. Our layover is a half hour long, and while we don't have to go far (I know this because I insisted we call AA and find out specifically where we would land and where we would take off again), I am terrified that some weird alignment of events will trap us in O'Hare at quite possibly the worst time ever. And our return flight is just as crucial as our departure, if not more so, insuring that I will not relax a whit in the next three days. Of course, I probably won't relax anyway for other reasons, which. . . I pass. Next question, please?

Starched and gelled on the outside, hurting on the inside

2005-11-05T14:49:00.000-05:00

Ben: When we were walking up to the room, did you see that guy in the hall on his cellphone? He looked like he had TiVo'ed an episode of Growing Up Gotti, paused it when one of the guys came on screen, took careful notes, took some poloroids, and then took them to a store to buy and outfit just like the one on screen. Natalie: No, I missed him. What was he wearing? Ben: Button-down shirt, incredibly starched, hair gelled and spiked up to there, and the shirt was open all the way down to here [bottom of ribcage]. He probably waxed his chest, too. Natalie: [laughing at someone wanting to dress like a Gotti] Ben: It's like he had a Gotti diary. "Dear diary, why do I have no self-esteem and no style of my own? I'm going to cry. . . and then shave my chest." Natalie: [laughing hysterically while trying to drink Diet Pepsi] Ben: Is that going to come out your nose? That'd be sweet.

Never underestimate the power of hugs

2005-11-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

I was really amused by this blog entry, in large part because I can definitely relate. To the bear thing anyway, seeing as I am now the proud owner of this. Now, granted, I probably would have bought it anyway, but suffice it to say, 23 is not too old to be comforted by something plush. We were shopping, and even though I love shopping as much as the next person, I was really not having it that day. Basically, one of the goals for the trip was for something very very unpleasant to think about at all, much less shop specifically for. I was really trying, but when I really, really don't want to do something, I tend to just shut down. Wandering through the stores, everything was just a blur and I could tell that it just wasn't going to happen that day. Ben could see that I was struggling mightily, so he took me into the Build A Bear right then. Cookie Monster has been living on the couch, where I hug him repeatedly each day. It's not an instant solution, but it's a step in the right direction.

The joys of bad TV

2005-10-21T15:22:00.000-04:00

Right. So. It's been a while, obviously. I wish I had an interesting explanation for my absence, but it ultimately just boils down to a three week bad mood. Work wasn't going all that well, and there's some other stuff going on at home that I really don't want to talk about. To top it all off, monsoon season apparently dropped on Boston and we had nothing but rain for what felt like an eternity. This predictably led to me using all of my energy to drag my lethargic ass out of bed and move it to the couch to take in some of the worst that cable TV has to offer. The highlights: The most horrible dating show ever made, Next on MTV. Where shallow people go for dates. Essentially, there is one guy or girl and maybe 5 of the opposite gender that want to date him/her. The concubines take turns with the prize and any time he/she gets sick of the concubine of the moment, the word "Next" indicates that this one is to be sent away and the next one is to be summoned. As you can probably guess, this leads to all sorts of despicable behavior on the part of the one, who can dismiss people on sight, or cause people to do all sorts of humiliating behavior just for approval. Lest you think the concubines are masochistic, however, you are told that each of the concubines is being compensated $1 for each minute spent with the prize. One concubine is ultimately selected for a second date, which they can accept, or refuse and take the money. "We've already established what you are, now we're haggling." Yeesh. The Martha Stewart TV movie. There really isn't a whole lot to say about this, other than that the highlight is the scene where Martha shouts at some woman from her SUV "Hey slut! I'm going to write your mother a letter and tell her you're a whore." Maybe it was the stress and fatigue, but Ben and I cackled like hyenas and greeted everything with "Hey slut!" for the next week. 14 Children and Pregnant Again! Oh boy. Where to start on this one. First of all, my uterus aches in sympathy, kind of like how guys feel a sympathetic ache anytime they see another guy get kicked in the balls. The special was edited to be very "Yay, look at this woman. She is supermom!" But really, when your kids do all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the laundry, and all the childcare for every child older than 6 months or so, there isn't much left for Mom. It's a bit disturbing that the kids don't appear to have any sort of bond with Mom. But I suppose when you only nurse them for a couple of months before starting on trying for Baby N+1, bonding is a tall order. The worst part of all is the home"schooling" where Mom "teaches" the kids all the random crap she still knows back when she was a contribuing member of society, like bankruptcy law and other things that of course school age children under 16 need to know. Why do they do this? Because "children are God's miracles." Ben's response was genius: "Then treat them as such and try getting to know them instead of trying to 'collect them all.' They're not Pokemon." So obviously I've been spending my time well. I hope to have more riveting things to talk about in the near future.

You Ought to Give Me Wedding Rings

2005-10-03T19:30:00.000-04:00

The book of love is long and boring No one can lift the damn thing It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing But I I love it when you read to me And you You can read me anything - Peter Gabriel Last weekend we went back to Madison for the wedding of dear friends. Here's what's great about Wisconsin weddings - they rarely take themselves too seriously. It doesn't have to be perfect, and ultimately, it's a rite of passage followed by a big party. That's certainly not to say that no one understands the gravity of what is taking place; on the contrary, it seems to me that by not taking the wedding too seriously, the marriage is more likely to succeed. Anyway, the wedding itself was very moving and wonderful. What amazed me was that they incorporated popular music into the ceremony (including the song referenced above), but did it in such a way that it wasn't cheesy, or over the top, but very heartfelt. I was very impressed, as popular music in weddings is typically overly dramatic fare, like the songs from Phantom, or Celine Dion, or what have you. They were performed by the brother and brother in law of the groom (the latter of which is very talented at the guitar, I must say). After the wedding, a couple of us didn't feel like milling around the lobby of the hotel for an hour (incidentally, the reception was maybe 3 blocks from the church. How convenient is that?), so we went to our favorite bar at 4:45 in the afternoon, all dressed up, for drinks. It was a great way to kill time before being elbow to elbow with a bunch of people we'd never met. Recharged by this break, we went back to the hotel for dinner, more drinks and dancing. They'd hired a cover band that also did polka (only in Wisconsin, right?) and everyone was really into it. Ben and I were having a great time dancing, even attempting some of our fancier swing dancing moves. Finally at midnight when the band wrapped up, we went down the street for some pizza, just like we used to do all the time when we lived there. The best thing about this, oddly enough, was that it really seemed to set me free from a lot of the angst I'd been feeling about attending other weddings. This wedding was a lot like ours, and I think that did me a world of good as far as all the worrying I had been doing. I finally started to relax and realize that we did things just right, and other people thought so too (I'd like to think that this couple did). The fussiest weddings aren't necessarily the most memorable. It's nice to think that I can finally stop feeling like the girl with beat up shoes and holes in her jeans showing up at the Ritz Carlton. Maybe it means that I'm just not very sophisticated after all, but I'll take being a Wisconsin rube at heart if it means that I get to be happy.

Another item crossed off my 'Do before you die' list

2005-09-27T19:31:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I got nothing done. Part of it was because I was at a symposium and so traded in doing experiments for sitting on my ass all day ostensibly learning stuff. But the other reason is the concert I attended later that evening. Who, you ask? Paul Fucking McCartney (Sorry about the profanity. There simply is no other way to say it) The evening began when Ben and I departed from my lab and hopped the T over to the arena. I'd like to say that we led off the momentous occasion with a notable dinner, but due to outdated restaurant listings and the mere fact that 80 MILLION PEOPLE had the same idea we did, we indulged in Burger King. On the other hand, we thought we were being all smart and stuff, for we would be in our seats with plenty of time. McCartney waits for no one, we thought. Well, apparently McCartney waits for someone. As it turned out, the show did not start at 8, nor a respectable 8:05 or 8:10. At 8:15 we were puzzled when a DJ (???) came onto the corner of the stage and began mixing "Band on the Run" riffs and "you were young" from "Live and Let Die" It was at this point that the gently morphing screensaver type images on the big screens turned into frenetically blinking, vertigo-inducing club graphics. After about 5 minutes of this, I had to turn away to avoid vomitting on my shoes. Unfortunately, staring straight out from my seat, while allowing me to avoid the screen, also reminded me just how high we were ($85 for the cheap seats, ladies and gentlemen). At this point I am becoming displeased with Paul, who is not only quite tardy, but is making me feel ill. Finally the epileptic part of the pre-show ends and we are treated to the life story of Paul (fun new fact #1: Paul is not his first name. It's James). Had this started at 8:15, I would have enjoyed it heartily. But by this point, Paul is nearly half an hour late and I'm thinking "I could just watch this on A&E, where's the live music?" Finally, after the longest of waits, the show starts and all is forgiven. Because he's Paul Fucking McCartney. The show was awesome. Definitely not a blow-by-blow replay of the 2002 tour, yet he made sure to hit all the classics that any newcomers would demand for the perfect show experience. The show was at times high-energy (fun fact #2 - Paul's amps totally go up to 11. Seriously), and at times softer and introspective (fun fact #3 - Last night was the anniversary of the recording of Penny Lane. This was news to Paul as well as us). There were so many great moments, but my favorite was when he did "Get Back." I was hopeful that it made the set list, since he performed it at Live 8, but I certainly didn't expect it for sure. A close second was "Maybe I'm Amazed" - it's pretty special to hear your wedding song done live like that. Through it all, Paul was a consummate performer. He tooks no breaks - no drum solos in this show. He thanked us profusely for being there. He really seemed to enjoy it from start to finish. And yes, the Liverpool accent really IS that damn cute.

Blech

2005-09-25T16:37:00.000-04:00

Reasons for my bad mood today: -It's Sunday -I'm at work, so it's a wasted Sunday, even worse than a regular Sunday -It's cloudy -Brett Favre's personal trainer didn't cure him of his ability to make STUPID decisions -I can't concentrate enough to read and analyze this journal club paper -This PCR probably will once again have failed, which will require me to bang my head against my bench repeatedly So obviously today isn't going so well. I can't so much complain about the rest of the weekend, though. We got invited to 2 parties, which is 2 more than we typically attend in a weekend. I feel rather torn about our apparent lack of social life because I enjoy going to parties for about 2 hours or so and then I get sick of the noise and/or the crowds, the good booze runs out, or I have to cut myself off to avoid the wretchedly awful hangover. Sometimes it seems easier to just not go at all, but I really enjoy seeing people I know and drinking other people's alcohol, so it's a connundrum. Ben bought new shirts and ties for his new suit, and if I may say so, he looks incredibly dashing and handsome. Plus, since it's his suit, I don't worry about what I'm exposing myself to if I brush my cheek against his suit coat. I'm so excited for this trip to Madison. Our last couple of visits there have been very brief (just overnights), so it'll be great to have more time to stroll around, visit maybe a few old haunts instead of one or two. Plus, the other good thing about this weekend is that Wisconsin beat Michigan for the first time in however long. It was a good win too, so that sort of takes the sting out of the repeated abuse my morale takes from the Packers week after week after week. . .

I can see for miles and miles

2005-09-21T21:19:00.000-04:00

I used to think that jogging was a bad idea, something I would never enjoy. The impact, plodplodplodding would surely hurt my joints. And say I ran for two miles and then couldn't run anymore. If I was now two miles from my apartment, what then? Plus I was tortured with memories from high school, being herded around and around a track by a fiendish gym teacher who wore shorts that were too short and too tight. What finally changed my mind is one of the rare things that I truly love about living here, and one of the few things I would seriously miss: the trail along the Charles and the loops you can make going between bridges. Since we live right by one of the bridges, it's easier to tailor the run so that we end up right at home. It took us all summer to work up the nerve and the motivation, but at the beginning of September we gave it a try. And I like it. A lot. This morning was the first time I went by myself. I was worried for about 10 seconds that people would be laughing at me because I was slow, or wearing the wrong clothes, or whatever. But as soon as I felt the fresh air and saw the sun and the glistening river (Sadly it was not blue - this is the Charles, after all), all that melted away and it was just me and The Who and the breeze. It was a bit of work to get myself out the door, but after that first step, everything got better. Considering that the rest of today was pretty rough, I'm so grateful I had that time, even if it was just a half hour.

Happy Memory of the Day

2005-09-19T22:09:00.000-04:00

Turns out it isn't just sound that can jog the memory. I had a long day today. A really long day. My body felt so dead at 8:00 that I made the random decision to take a bath. I'm not really a bath person, I usually just hop in for maybe 5 or 10 minutes before I get too hot, or too bored, or both. Somehow though, it seemed like the right thing to do. When I ran the bath I made the second random decision to use the bubble bath we bought on the first night of our honeymoon. It was really surprising to me how vivid the memories of the honeymoon became just from that smell (and not just those ones, get your brain out of the gutter!) I remember being absolutely exhausted when we got to Caesar's, owing to the fact that I'd had about 5 hours sleep in a 48 hour span. I remember eating dinner in the food court and almost being too exhausted to chew. The bubble bath itself was kind of a spontaneous purchase, but once I saw the jacuzzi tub in the room, I knew we needed to get some. I remember feeling really dazed by the events of the previous days. I kept asking Ben "Did all that really happen?" That and dealing with the reality of being a real-life married type. It was really surreal because Ben and I had taken vacations together before and I had to keep reminding myself that it was different this time. It wasn't the jazziest of honeymoons ever. It wasn't a cruise, or the Caribbean, or Hawaii. Maybe Las Vegas is more fun with friends, I don't know. But it had all the perks of a warm vacation and none of the pressure. We got to do the stupid things that make us happy. We slept in, sat by the pool a lot, and watched SportsCenter. We ate like crazy, walked around a lot, and gambled only as much as we felt like. We weren't out late much, but it wasn't about conforming to some standard of what your vacation should be. Sometimes I have wished that our honeymoon was more brag-worthy. But at times like this, I'm grateful that it was exactly what it was.

Take a break, for the love of God!

2005-09-11T22:48:00.000-04:00

Compared to a significant subset of graduate students here, I am a slacker. I say this because my workload actually resembles an average workweek. It's Sunday night, and I just ran into the lab quickly to do some setup for tomorrow's experiment. My lab was empty (did I mention just how much I appreciate my coworkers?), but there were people working in other labs near mine. I suppose I can understand working everyday if you live alone. I have never lived alone, but I remember one day last year when Ben was out of town and my lovely roommates weren't home (not that they'd deign to speak to me even if they had been). I think I literally went 24 hours without speaking to anyone. In that case, being in the lab, where possibly there would be people to talk to, would be preferable to this. But I do have someone at home, and I rather like being with him, oddly enough. And even if I was alone, I very much enjoy my relaxing time. At the very least, take Sunday night off for God's sake. There's something really depressing about the end of the weekend, because it's the last idle time until Friday. I can't imagine willingly sacrificing that time to get a little bit ahead. Maybe I'm not enough of a workaholic to really make it in science, but it is possible to be happy without being the biggest and the best at what you do. I think I can. There's so much more to life.

Getting Over the Wedding, Symptom #24398

2005-09-10T10:14:00.000-04:00

So here's what sucks about planning a big wedding: the mistakes, like the diamonds, are forever (unless we're talking about Jennifer Lopez - but we're not. Stick with me). Sure, there are those little glitches that everyone has that you agonize about for 30 seconds and then it's over. I'm not talking about those. I'm talking about anything that bothers you for over 5 minutes. If the euphoria can't shut it off by then, it officially counts as a mistake for the purposes of this diatribe. Anyway, once the wedding is over, there's nothing that can be done about it. There is no going back and fixing it, which leaves you (and by "you" I think it's pretty clear who we're talking about) with all kinds of unresolved guilt and frustration. So what to do with all that? Well, when other people are getting married, the most obvious thing to do with your newfound knowledge is to pay it forward, ie "Never do X" or "Make sure you do X", whatever. In the short term, this gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling because it gives meaning to your frustration, you are not being tormented in vain. However, in the long run, there can be 2 main problems with this: 1. (and probably the worse of the two) You end up choking back feelings of envy, because now in your eyes subsequent weddings are perfect because they succeeded where you failed. Well, duh! Of course they did if they took your advice! This was the whole point, wasn't it? Well yes, but it goes back to the whole frustration over not being able to fix your own wedding thing. Ultimately, fixing other weddings lacks the satisfaction. 2. At the same time, you find yourself getting somewhat defensive about your own wedding. It's related to the fact that you may be allowed to insult yourself, but that doesn't give others permission to do the same. All of a sudden you are being held up as the example for How to Do It Wrong. You are That Woman, who screwed up. And you find yourself now protesting in defense of your wedding "Well, it wasn't that bad, really. Maybe this or that didn't go quite right, but . . .wahhhhh." The big problem is that what's fueling all of this is the fact that ridiculous though it is, weddings are a very competitive field. This makes absolutely no sense, as what good does it do to compare two things without any objective criteria? Nevertheless, this does not stop people from telling you at your wedding "This was the loveliest wedding I've ever attended," which is a sweet gesture. Unfortunately, it sticks in your head so that when you're at another wedding and hear the sentiment being expressed to that bride and groom, a part of you flares up, all "What about mine, dammit?" And it's stupid, really really stupid. It's juvenile and petty, and more than that, it makes you feel crappy anyway. In time, I'm sure this will all cease to matter at all. I guess I just figured that a year would be enough time to grow up, for God's sake. And on the whole, other than a couple of things, I really don't have regrets about my wedding. It was a big ass party, where the booze was flowing and everyone was dancing, carrying on, and having a good time (from what I can tell). The rest really doesn't matter now, even if I still agonize about it sometimes.

Some Perspective - Sledgehammer Style

2005-09-03T19:05:00.000-04:00

Somehow it feels really trite to shove my way into the blogosphere with my clumsy thoughts on the hurricane in New Orleans, especially when others are much better at this than I am. Still, I feel that I would be remiss in not saying anything at all. When September 11th happened, I was on Blog v1.o, I think, and I remember writing about how upsetting the whole event was. Here and now, my emotional reactions have been completely different. There has been no wailing and gnashing of teeth, but instead a very heavy, morose feeling of helplessness. I've already donated to the Red Cross, but when the suffering of people is so extreme, and continues even as we speak, it's rather disheartening to realize that your only power is typing your credit card number into some website and clicking "Submit." I wish I could do more. There are so many people doing such wonderful things, it's comforting to know that human kindness is still alive and well in the world. It's certainly been a heavy dose of much needed perspective for me. How can I be so distraught over losing a computer and some jewelry when others have lost absolutely everything they have? As far as who to blame, I am really far too confused to know what to think, so I go back and forth on the matter frequently. It does really seem like help took a long time in arriving, and never before do I remember any disaster deteriorating into such a post-apocalyptic scene that Stephen King's The Stand doesn't even begin to rival. On the other hand, it's a waste of time right now to decide who to blame. Do it later on if you must, but there are people who need help now, who are suffering now. Deciding that it's Bush's fault, or the mayor's fault, or the governor's, won't bring back the dead, nor will it give the survivors (I hate the media calling them "refugees") food to eat, clothes to wear, or a place to sleep. I don't really pray in any sort of conventional sense of the word, but I think of everyone in that region often and I hope with all my heart that everyone gets the help and care that they need.

A new season, a new look

2005-08-27T23:15:00.000-04:00

New haircut and new lipgloss are both good things. This may be the shortest my hair has ever been, but I love it. It actually behaves now! I got a little nervous when I left the salon because as usual, the girl blowdried my hair as straight as she could get it. Why do they do this? It is not attractive AT ALL. And yes, I have bangs, because my forehead is enormous - deal with it. Do not lecture me on the reasons why I shouldn't have them, it won't change anything. Plus I finally spent my gift card for Sephora on a new lip gloss (oh, sorry, lip polish), coordinating eyeshadows, and a lotion of my signature scent. It may be the only time I ever leave Sephora having spent under $10 (of actual cash - I spent more than my gift card). I never thought I'd really become a make-up snob, but living in the big city has changed me already, I suppose.

One step at a time

2005-08-26T12:13:00.000-04:00

I think I might be coming out of my depression, slowly. Things are starting to make me happy again. Yesterday I was sitting at my bench with my Minipod, and Africa came on. Sometimes I feel like my iPod can sense that I'm upset and picks a song to make me feel better. Of course, it may then follow up with something depressing like Dust in the Wind three songs later, so maybe I'm reading too much into this. Back to Africa, though. It's amazing that such a silly, cheesy song can bring me warm fuzzies. The reason, though, is because there are so many people that find it amazingly awesome in its cheesiness that when it plays, I feel closer to all of them. Especially my brother, who has grown to be one of the falling-down-laughing funniest people I know, if not the funniest. I'm so happy that as an adult he is totally someone I would want to be friends with, even if he wasn't my brother. One of the most treasured memories of my entire life is of my wedding reception, late, when most people have left, and Ben, John, and all our college friends who are left are dancing around like idiots to Africa. The DJ looked like he thought we were deranged, although come to think of it, who was he to judge? He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and probably the rattiest pair of shorts he owned. I still want to throttle him for that. I still miss my friend, though. In a way, it feels similar to how a break-up must feel (having never experienced one for real, I can only speculate). Tomorrow I want to go shopping at a mall we went to frequently, and it's sad to me. Like it was "our" place and she's not here. I feel kind of stupid for reacting this way. Especially since it is almost certainly all one-sided. Yes, she doesn't live here anymore, and maybe she misses me, but she gains so much more. She's with her husband, she has a new, nice, apartment, and she'll soon have a new job. It's me that's bereft.

What's in a name?

2005-08-19T23:28:00.000-04:00

My dear husband is very protective of his name. As far as we know, there is only one spelling that exists of it. Until today, when we realized that the wedding videographer we hired inverted two of the vowels in it. So, since we had already drank two bottles of wine, we decided to Google (ack! advertising for The Man sponsor!) this alternate spelling. We found a website for this poor misguided soul living in the UK who obviously thinks himself very avant-garde. Ben's response : "He needs a knife in the scrotum." Aren't you all sad that you didn't marry him?

It's that time of year

2005-08-15T20:10:00.000-04:00

I always get depressed at the end of August/beginning of September. I don't think I've figured out yet if there's something specific about the time of year, or if I've just been unlucky to have something that bothers me crop up at that time every year of my life. I suppose both are equally likely. With August and September come a change in routine, which I hate with every fiber of my being. Me no like change. Plus it's the end of summer, and who doesn't get depressed about that? I was hoping that this summer there would be no upheaval and perhaps I would be free of this cloud that settles over me every year, but unfortunately I was mistaken. The break-in is still wearing on me - I'm not sure if I feel "at home" at home. The vacation I was looking forward to all summer is over and I'm feeling quite a bit of let-down. And probably the biggest thing is that a very good friend has moved away and I'm feeling very lonely. The thing is that I have friends here and I like them a lot, and we have fun together. But I have this thing where I like to feel needed. And the friends that I have here, they don't need me. I think maybe I like to feel needed because if someone needs you, it's ok to need them back. When the apartment got broken into, I felt like if I talked about it, I was burdening them, and if in fact any of them are having problems, they aren't bringing them to me. And that's fine. Everyone has all sorts of friends, and not all of them have to be the kind that be there for you and vice versa. But other than Ben (who is obviously in a class by himself), I have no friends of that variety here. Add that to the fact that I also have no family in this region of the country, and I am feeling somewhat adrift. We got to spend an evening in Madison just before we left to come back. While we were there, I had a very interesting sensation. Why did we have to leave? I don't really feel loss when I leave Green Bay because Green Bay is small and cute, and I like living in a bigger city. But being in Madison and visiting my favorite restaurant and my favorite bar, it just seemed like an enormous waste that we were leaving it. I like Cambridge, it's a fairly pleasant place to live, all things considered. But I don't love it here, and I am beginning to doubt that I ever will. Right now my graduate career seems incredibly long and part of me wonders if I really did the right thing after all.

Clinton and Stacy, this is all your fault!

2005-08-10T23:04:00.000-04:00

I am on a quest to become a better dresser. This seems somewhat unnecessary, as I am a lab rat. If anything, being well-dressed is a liability, as one does not want to spill yeast culture or caustic liquid on nice clothing. Nevertheless, too many episodes of What Not to Wear have led me to wish I were more sophisticated. All of a sudden, my jeans are cut improperly, my coats are too baggy, my tops too casual, and my shoes too chunky. Since my birthday, I have aquired no less than seven new tops, one new pair of jeans, and two new pairs of shoes. This seems far too extravagant for a graduate student who ought to be living modestly (also one recently robbed who had to replace two stolen computers) - although to be fair, three tops and half of the pair of jeans were paid for by a gift card. The problem with me shopping for non-t-shirt tops is that when I go out, I complain that I have nothing to wear and yet, while I'm in the store looking at sleeveless, fitted, sparkly tops, I don't buy them because "where would I wear that?" and the cycle continues. The exciting thing about shopping right now is that my most favoritest color since I was a little girl is apparently en vogue at the moment. I don't know what the fashion designers call it, but in the Crayola box it was either green-blue (not to be confused with blue-green or turquoise, those were different) or cerulean. Right now, every store has a huge line of tops and skirts in this color. While I am doing my best to avoid having a monochromatic wardrobe, part of me feels that it will be out of style all too soon, so I should buy as much as I can before it all disappears. Of course, the result of this will be that I will be wearing it all long after others consider it passe. Not that I'm ever inhibited by fashion. Not terribly long ago I had dinner with a friend. She was admiring my shirt and I said "Oh this? I've had it for years". She remarked that since the style of print was back in fashion, I'm lucky to be able to get more wear out of it. My response? "Please, I've been wearing it the whole time. Fashion, bah." So I suppose my quest for fashion will ultimately fail after all. Oh well.

Sympathetic anxiety and flashbacks

2005-08-09T12:40:00.000-04:00

Is it possible to experience feelings that have been repressed for an entire year? Last weekend we were at the wedding of very dear friends. Ben was the best man and as such, the two of us were fairly involved in the activities leading up to the event. Considering that it has been an entire year since our own wedding, I didn't think that there was any reason that we both wouldn't be anything but calm and relaxed. It's not our wedding, right? Well, imagine our surprise when we both woke up at 6AM with nervous stomachs. Shortly thereafter, we split up for the morning - he stayed with the groom and I went with the bride and bridesmaids (I need to point out here that the bride was extremely kind to me - as the best man's wife I really was not entitled to be as included as I was). By the time we arrived at the church, I was in such a state that I needed Ben to come out of the groom's dressing room to breathe with me. I tried my best to be helpful to the bride and anyone else that needed me, but ultimately I feel like between trying to keep myself calm and dressing myself, I did little other than get in everyone's way. At any rate, the wedding went forward and was very lovely. After this, certainly I would be feeling completely back to normal, right? Instead, I sat in the front pew shaking all over, chest heaving, and attempting to keep the tears to a slow trickle that I could dab away with a tissue before they smeared my eye makeup all over. Luckily, the wedding party was not needed initially and Ben did what he could to keep me calm. I really didn't want to be seen, and thankfully the bride never noticed, busy as she was being photographed. Unfortunately, I was not as discreet as I wanted to be, since one of the bridesmaids came over and said "I am going to sit next to you and give you a hug, because I can see your chin quivering." By the time we arrived at the reception, I was more or less back to normal, but feeling extremely guilty for risking upsetting the happy couple with my theatrics. So why all the emotion? There are some simpler reasons why I would have been crying, and immature though they are, they probably did contribute a little. But I also wonder if it's possible that some repressed feelings from my own wedding were triggered by the stress and anxiety of two people I love very much. Many brides on their wedding day will cry, have trouble standing, or get sick to their stomachs. On my own wedding day, there was only a span of about five minutes where the event was getting a little too real for me. In this five minutes, I had some butterflies, my knees were shaky, and I thought I might start crying, but didn't. Is it possible that the urge to sob and get sick were buried so deep that day that it took another wedding entirely to trigger their release? It seems far-fetched, but I think it's a viable explanation.

In memorium

2005-07-25T23:33:00.000-04:00

Dearest Hestia, my Sony Vaio laptop, my heart aches for you. Besides the Man in my life, you were my best friend, almost like an extra limb. You were the symbol of my first success as a scientist. I spent countless hours configuring you perfectly until you fit me like a glove. You saw me through the end of college, my marriage, and the incredibly stressful first year of graduate school. I even brought you on my honeymoon. After the reformat, I decided that you needed a name, so I chose to name you after the goddess of the hearth. And an apt name it was, for whenever I had you with me, I felt very much at home. Hestia, I truly feel that I have failed you. Perhaps it is unreasonable of me to feel that I should have known what awful thing was going to happen when I left to run errands that day. But it was my responsiblity to keep you safe. I really did think that I did everything I could. Whenever we would leave the apartment, I made sure that you never left my sight unless you were secure and safe. It was a heavy responsibility, but I thought I bore it completely. How was I to know that in the one place I thought you were safest you were actually the most vulnerable? If I had just thought to put you away, in the filing cabinet perhaps, you might still be with me today. Instead I am tortured with thoughts of you being ripped from me by a dirty, flea-ridden, unscrupulous drug addict. You deserved better than that. Yes, you were old and heavy, and other computers were nicer. And I'd be lying if I said that our time together wasn't limited. But I intended so much better for you in your old age. I was going to provide a comfortable retirement for you, maybe with my parents, or maybe even with me. We were both robbed of the transition. Now I sit here with this new shiny computer that is lovely and powerful, but isn't you. I will do my best to bond with it and not blame it for the reason it came into my life. My prayer for you, Hestia, is that somehow good will come of all this evil, and you will end up in the home of goodhearted, if naive, people who don't realize where this nice used computer came from. And as for me, I will endeavor to remember the good times we had together, and to forget the awful way that you left me.

2005-07-15T18:53:00.000-04:00

Welcome home

2005-07-15T17:21:00.000-04:00

My name is on the door outside. People who come by will know that my bench is in this room. I feel like I've officially joined the lab now.

Control P Print

2005-07-14T16:15:00.000-04:00

The most wonderful thing about this institution of higher learning that I attend/work for is their endless preoccupation with security. Everthing needs a password, a special number, a certificate, etc etc etc. Not to mention the fact that they load down every bit of hardware and software with extra security software that they create. Safety from hackers is all fine and good, but when all I want to do is print one lousy form from my email account so I can continue to be paid, I'm not so terribly concerned with security, I'm concerned with GETTING THE DAMN PRINTER INSTALLED PROPERLY so I can do my paperwork and then go about my daily business. It should not take several days to figure out how to print one simple sheet of paper. And to think that I initially blamed Microsoft. Bill Gates, my sincerest apologies (for now, that is).

A healthy Natalie is a happy Natalie

2005-07-11T17:33:00.000-04:00

Which is a really obvious thought, but one that I am just starting to fully embrace. It's a philosophy that takes many forms. It is simultaneously fueling the self-improvement kick that I have been on for about 2.5 years, but also reminding me to dial it back sometimes when I get carried away. One of the scariest realizations I had was that food was becoming a fixation for me. What I ate, when I ate, how much I ate, consumed my thoughts throughout the day. I have a ways to go yet, but I think I am finally learning again that I have a good head on my shoulders and that everything will be ok. If I am very hungry and there is something in particular that I want and nothing else will do, then go ahead. However, I also want to keep in mind that some things seem like a better idea conceptually than in reality. And that fruits and vegetables are my friend, lettuce and spinach are not notebook paper, and crunching doesn't make me want to gag. Along with this, I am determined to try very hard (yes, try - shut up, Yoda!) to make exercise a permanent fixture in my daily life. Today I had a breakthrough. Despite falling asleep around 12:30 and setting an alarm for 7 AM (eep!), I hauled myself out of bed and did my power yoga tape. Successfully, I might add - the dog splits, half-moons, balancing poses, even the back bridges. It didn't even hurt more than it would have if I'd slept 2 hours more. The best part is that besides whatever physical benefit I got out of it, the mental and emotional benefits were palpable. I was even-tempered for the rest of the day, letting aggravations roll right off my back, even emailing Ben a stupid joke midafternoon. Little things. But I intend to build on them.

Putting away childish things

2005-07-08T15:02:00.000-04:00

I think I really am getting old after all. During my childhood, my favorite types of candy were definitely the fruity, super-sucrosy candies. Skittles, Starbursts, the sugarier, the better. Chocolate? Too heavy, too many additives. Bring on the artificial fruit flavors, please. Lately, I've been laying off them, but mostly because of the caloric cost. Today I threw good behavior to the wind so I could try the new smoothie-flavored Skittles. Ten years ago, probably would have loved them. Today? Bleccch. It's been an hour now and I still feel icky. So this'll probably be the end of that relationship. From now on, berries and other fruits that satisfy my sweet without putting me in insulin overload.

What do these numbers mean, anyway?

2005-06-30T16:27:00.000-04:00

So it's been almost 3 years now since I realized that constant binging on bacon and Ben and Jerry's was taking it's toll, as well as the many hours spent on public transportation and the couch. I am now about 20 pounds lighter than I was then, which is certainly no small feat. However, when I went shopping for a dress to wear to the parade of weddings this summer, I was astonished to discover that I fit into a size 2. 2? It's not like I'm not proud of myself or anything like that, but I used to be a dress size 8. I really don't feel like I'm really 4 dress sizes smaller than I used to be. Nevertheless, I decided to just go with it. Then the other day I was rummaging around my drawer and found a swimsuit from when I was in high school, still in excellent shape. I tried it on and lo and behold, it still fit perfectly. I checked the tag to see what size it was. Size 10 So what have we learned from this? For whatever reason, be it random drift or a conscious effort to make women feel better about themselves, dress sizes are now bigger than they used to be. And not just a little bit bigger here. From 2/4 to 8/10 is a pretty substantial jump. It makes one wonder just how bad the "obesity" problem in this country really is. . .

Vocabulary lesson

2005-06-27T16:59:00.000-04:00

I learned a new word today: dooced from urbandictionary.com:

1. dooced

dooced: to lose one’s job because of one’s website.

Dude, I heard Janey got dooced last week. I was introduced to the term via one of the DHAK blogs - a poor gentleman was recently dooced for making fun of someone in the boss's family. After that, of course I had to go right to the source and find out all the gory details. After spending the better part of the afternoon pouring over it all, my first thought was to feel fortunate that I lack both a real job and a real boss, but that is neither here nor there. After that brief thought, I began pondering what I thought. The idealist in me says that as long as the parties and specifics are kept anonymous, the blogger should be allowed to do as he or she pleases, blah blah blah first-amendment-cakes. But picture it from the other side: suppose you find that your co-worker has a blog. Suppose then you deduce exactly what is being discussed. If your co-worker is complaining vehemently about people in the office, the bosses, the company, etc., how does that change your ability to work with him or her? Would it not be difficult to interact with that person, knowing that your exchange could be blown up, ripped to shreads and put on the web for all to see? It is a tough situation, because I can certainly see both sides. It certainly made me feel relief that thus far, few people know that this blog exists, and that it is far too boring to attract much attention. Certainly I have never experienced the loss of a job due to blogging, but I have definitely seen the end of many friendships, all of which probably would have ended anyway, but there was probably a better way to go about it. Still, as a precautionary measure, I am more resolved to keep my musings here restricted to thoughts about my own self, or random things, or just people in general. There are definitely times when specific people I know bother me in certain ways, but this is why people get married. Having someone at home to patiently listen to you bitch and complain for hours about the same subject and then give you a hug and kiss and tell you everything will be all right is more than worth the price of admission, if you ask me.

What can I say? I tried

2005-06-27T12:15:00.000-04:00

My thumbnails are about to break. My nice, long, and most importantly, strong thumbnails are going to bust. They're not broken yet, but I can tell it won't be long, probably by the end of the week. They have the characteristic white, spidery lines indicating severe hull breach. I am not pleased. A month and a half of meticulous care about to be undone by a stupid keychain. Of course, I am ultimately to blame for this. Not only did I myself purchase the offending keychain and decide that all work keys should go on it, I also allowed myself to be lazy and not go through the proper channels in regards to keys when I first got here. Rather than officially acquire keys which would be mine, I inherited the keys left behind in my desk. If they had been a complete set it wouldn't have mattered. Unfortunately, one very important key was missing, and since I needed that key for experiments I hope to do this week, I needed to go through the key acquisition process I should have done weeks ago. This ultimately led to the pilfered keys needing to come off of this keychain, which is incredibly stiff. Natalie vs her keychain was a grueling 20 minute battle. Natalie ultimately prevailed, but the nails were collateral damage. Arg. Time to start over.

Idle hands are the devil's work

2005-06-15T16:29:00.000-04:00

When you're the new kid in the lab, your project is new, somewhat simple, and not guaranteed to produce anything noteworthy. The upside: no pressure! (unless you're in a miRNA lab. Boy I don't envy those people) The downside: slow periods where all your experiments are between interesting points leaving you with nothing to do. Why, oh why can't the yeast grow faster? I realize that now things are working and I should not be complaining, but at least when experiments weren't working, there were things to do, setting up the reaction again. Now my part is temporarily suspended while I wait for the yeast to do their thing. Grow, yeast, grow! It's hard not to feel lazy just sitting here at my desk while others (much more senior than I, of course) toil away. There just isn't much that I can do right now. Everything is on plates, and there is little to do besides expound on the trainwreck that is the Britney and Kevin show. I'm still ahead of my classmates that have only just started now since they took vacations earlier, although I'll lose that headway when I take my own extended break next month. Slow periods happen to everyone. It's nothing to be sorry about (right? RIGHT?) Grow, yeasties, grow!

Things really do work out for the best

2005-05-29T22:30:00.000-04:00

The whole lab ordeal is finally over. And despite the fact that it turned out completely the opposite of the way I thought it would, I can truthfully and honestly say that I am happy. The last eight years of my life have been chock full of good things. Lots of good things. In a way, it makes me nervous and waiting for the karmic bitchslap that should be coming after so much good fortune. But on the other hand, it has also taught me to always trust that things will be ok. Everything really does turn out for the best. I often wonder why this is, considering that I don't really believe in divine intervention or any sort of "grand plan". Perhaps it is just as simple as me being determined that everything will be ok, mind over matter, as it were. Whatever it is, I can't help but feel very fortunate and lucky. I also feel relieved because the process of that week and a half brought to light many things that were not apparent to me before. It's interesting how appearances can mislead you, and how perceptions can be created by the stupidest, most superficial reasons. So even though my ultimate decision was motivated by factors beyond my control, I really believe that if I were to go back and do the process over again, knowing what I know now, my actions probably would have changed. Is that the same as regretting what I did do? I don't think so because I really don't think I will spend much time wondering what would have been, and that is defnitely a good thing. So, peace is restored to my life, until prelims, that is.

Observations on watching the original 3 Star Wars films

2005-05-23T23:04:00.000-04:00

After seeing Episode III, Ben and I decided to watch the original three Star Wars films to see how well the continuity fared. Here is a sample of random comments that were made: -The many bleeps made by R2D2 are undoubtedly a large string of droid-expletives -C3P0 has to be the creation of Microsoft. He does all sorts of things you don't need, and isn't programmed to do the one thing you want him to [impersonate God to free Luke et al. from the Ewoks] -Two incredibly whiny, wussy people [Anakin and Padme] somehow managed to give birth to two rather badass kids [Luke and Leia] -The one person involved with the prequel trilogy that actually did the necessary studying was Ewan McGregor. Perhaps he had a seance to contact Sir Alec Guinness? -What the hell is Hayden Christensen doing at the end of Return of the Jedi? The poor guy that played old Anakin had two freakin scenes, and now one of them has been cut. -Natalie: This is the last time that Harrison Ford emoted on film Ben: Oh I don't know. Indiana Jones? Natalie [deadpans]: Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes? -Those Skywalker men really can't take care of their hands, jeez. -In his old age, Yoda actually speaks more clearly, not less. "A prophecy that misread could have been"? What the hell does that mean? As far as Episode III, we were actually pleased. Not to say that the film isn't without its faults - we still feel we could have written a better picture. Nevertheless, suspension of disbelief allowed us to actually enjoy the movie very much, which really could not have been said about the last two.

To want what we have, to take what we're given with grace

2005-05-17T21:52:00.000-04:00

Attending the first wedding after my own was very interesting. It really drove it home that I was definitively not the fiancee or the bride-to-be anymore. It was surreal to have the bride, who is a few years older than I am, giving me a great big hug and saying, "Oh, you old married woman, you." I was amazed by it all because in a way, it feels like Ben and I just got married yesterday, and at the same time, like we've been married for years. I can hardly believe sometimes that we haven't even reached our first anniversary yet. Many people have asked how it feels to be married, if life has changed, and so on. Really, though, it's been so natural that I tend to stare blankly at people who want to know how different married life is. The only sad thing is that the biggest party I ever get to be the center of attention of is over forever. There's nothing like being a bride, and while I'll always be grateful that I never have to plan it again, it's said that a defining moment of my life is over. I also fielded piles of compliments about how smart I must be for attending MIT. "I've been bragging about you to everyone I know. 'My friend goes to MIT.'" It's not that I'm not proud to be a student at one of the best institutions in the country, but for God's sake, I'm a graduate student. I'm continuing my education as a means of avoiding the real world and getting a real job. To have people with real careers spewing adulation over me feels weird. Not to mention the fact that among people at this university, I am decidedly far from the most accomplished. Certainly not the smartest by any means, and lacking any additional talents, like, say, performing the tenor solo of Mozart's Requiem. Oh well. The next one should be more natural, hopefully.

The mating dance of labs

2005-05-09T23:29:00.000-04:00

Dear [prospective advisor], I <3 you. Do you <3 me? Check: _yes _no _Can I be on your committee? Kisses, Natalie Now that the rotations are over, the hammer starts falling and the dating jokes begin. People are "breaking up" with their rotation labs and casting their lots with "the one" labs. For me, of course, it is nearly not that simple. It just figures that I end up chasing the most popular lab. "It all works out in the end". Yes, thank you, I'm sure I'll be singing a similar tune in a year or so when it all gets settled. Right now? Not having it. Resisting the urge to tear my hair out and camp out in front of a certain someone's office. Or stand on the roof of 68 until I get in. Actually, I would just be happy if it was settled.

Question: What is true love?

2005-05-02T00:06:00.000-04:00

Answer: Allowing your spouse to hold your tongue between his two fingers while you attempt to sing the National Anthem. Don't ask, I'm not even sure I understand.

I am a terrible person and I'm going to hell

2005-04-03T22:54:00.000-04:00

For a multitude of reasons, but the current reason is because I think that the news coverage over the passing of John Paul II is ridiculously excessive. They ought to lead off every report by saying "It is now [time inserted here], and His Holiness, Pope John Paul II is still dead." Also, I am somewhat mystified by the throngs of mourners outside the Vatican weeping and carrying on. I suppose that this is just one more indication of what a horrible Catholic I am, in addition to the whole not going to church thing. I feel nothing. All of the ingredients that never fail to make me sob at a funeral - any funeral - are missing. He was very old and very sick. I had no personal relationship with him. And there's not even a bereaved family with which I could empathize, like when Reagan died. He was a good person who loved people and advocated peace in the world, which are very noble things. But he also was the figurehead for an institution that is undeniably anti-woman. No matter how much I wanted to be a good Catholic, I could not excuse the whole Catholic sexuality platform. First of all, what business is my reproductive health to a bunch of old, celibate men in Rome? And even if it is their business, who does it hurt if I take control of the time and place for bearing my children? No matter how I go about having children, I plan to provide them with all the love and support I can give them, but they (and I) will ultimately be better off if I wait until such time as Ben and I are better equipped to care for them. Does that mean that we should live like monks until then? Absolutely not! If we really only get one shot at life, why not do what makes us happy, as long as it isn't hurting anybody? I don't think God would hate us for that. Some people have said that the Pope's death is bringing them back to the church. Unfortunately, I doubt it will change anything for me.

Hey, a girl has to have priorties

2005-03-10T21:49:00.000-05:00

So I had a choice: attempt to fix everything that's wrong with my psyche, or have lunch. I chose lunch. Crazy? Maybe. A few weeks ago, I got an email about a special talk scheduled for this afternoon. The topic: "The Imposter Syndrome." Basically, they were having a talk about me. Do you secretly worry others will find out you are not as intelligent and competent as they seem to think you are? Do you often dismiss praise for your accomplishments? Are you crushed by even constructive criticism, taking as evidence of your ineptness? Does the thought of not knowing what you are doing strike fear in your heart? If so, join the club. The Imposter Syndrome is often found among high achievers. Learn to recognize the individual and organizational cost of this phenomenon. Discover how to stop the perfectionism and procrastination that can undermine your success. In the end, I didn't go. Maybe it would have been time well spent. But everyone in my new lab was having lunch. And in order to have any shot of getting into this lab, I need to be visible and charming. Not to mention the fact that a pleasant, social lunch sounded a hell of a lot better than facing my inner demons with low blood sugar. Maybe I'm not crazy after all.

I am sick

2005-02-20T19:08:00.000-05:00

The fact that I acknowledge this is a step towards maturity for me. I used to be hell-bent on not being sick ever, to the end that I would gobble as much Advil/Tylenol/cold medicine to make me function the same way I always would. What stopped this? Pneumonia. When I was 16. It's really not fun when "sort of sick" turns into "really sick". So I have dutifully stayed in bed almost all weekend. Still, I'm frustrated that I still am not back to normal. This is really bad timing. There's finally work to do at the lab, I have a presentation on Thursday, 3 more papers to read for Friday, and a problem set that I haven't even looked at. Bad timing indeed. And I thought I was doing so well at taking care of myself in spite of all the insanity. Dammit.

I won't worry my life away

2005-02-16T23:33:00.000-05:00

So says Jason Mraz, and it's an admirable goal. I don't know how close I am to actually achieving it, but it's good to have ambitions in life. Right now, I am attempting it with all of my might. For instance, I'm trying not to worry about where my next rotation will be, I'm trying not to worry that a certain rotation would be a complete waste since whatever self-esteem I have left will be drained away were I to join, and more recently I am trying to believe that my career aspirations and desire for eventual motherhood will reconcile themselves just swimmingly. Everything works in the end, breathe in, breathe out, repeat as necessary. Improving matters tremendously is that I had a very lovely Valentine's Day, despite doing few of the things that generally make a Valentine's Day particularly good, for example, eating at a ritzy restaurant. No, a home-cooked meal and a bottle of Pinot Noir was just what the doctor ordered. Of course, I still have the most wonderful husband in the world (sorry, I just do) who, as always, spoiled me shamelessly and treated me like a queen. All this for the harried woman who barely managed at the 11th hour to pick up some chocolates, and only because other errands led her to the Walgreen's. Whenever I'm feeling sorry for myself and thinking my life is so terrible, I should just think of that day.

The Return, part II

2005-02-06T01:06:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm just a glass-half-empty kind of girl. It's entirely possible. But after about a week, I feel like this rotation process is missing many of the things I love about lab work. I'm really enjoying working directly with the PI, and I'm even enjoying the flies so far. But I have not been able to relax in my surroundings. And I don't think it's specific to this lab because the people are very nice and I like them a lot. The problem is that rotation students are very transient. You are there for a month, and the odds are low that you will return when the rotations are over. So understandably, the lab doesn't invest a lot in you. I don't mean that people haven't been anything less than helpful and friendly, because that's not really it. But I don't have my own bench space, or my own supplies, or a key to the lab so I can come and go. It just doesn't pay for them to do any of that if I'm only a temporary addition. As a result, I'm wound up all the time because I just can't settle in and make the lab my home. It's disappointing because now I feel like I won't be really happy until this is all over and I have a lab that's mine. Until then, I'll just be a nervous wreck. Of course, I have to keep in mind that I have a period of anxiety/depression at the start of every semester. It stems from my schedule having been messed with and my routine disrupted. This could all just go away. But with the monthly turnover, continuing the networking so I actually have labs I can request, and classes on top of that, this semester may not be that less stressful than the last.

The Return, part I

2005-02-01T22:45:00.000-05:00

I'm really excited to return to the bench. I think part of my emotional problems stem from the fact that I'm missing my escape. There were so many times that I went into the lab in a foul mood and relaxed within minutes. Yes, it's menial, yes, there's no innate interaction (eg in retail or medicine), but for me, it's quiet, orderly, and pacifying. Put the pipette in my hand and hopefully I'll be much happier overall. I have high hopes for this first rotation. The people all seem really nice, the advisor seems laid back and helpful. Now if I can just teach myself to love the fly!

Security in Insecurity?

2005-01-30T23:55:00.000-05:00

I have low self-esteem. I have been substantially lacking in self confidence since I was about ten. That's about when the awkward phase set in and no one thought I was pretty anymore. Since then, life has been one big chase to recover what I lost. If I couldn't be pretty, I figured, I could be smart. Being smart is a great thing, I told myself. Smart people don't need to be pretty. And I was better off. Better off, that is, until my friends started to pair off. Then I was smart, not pretty, and lonely. I really think that thirteen is the worst age for any female. It certainly was for me. If I were to live that year over again now, I probably would have a therapist and a prescription to Prozac. Thankfully, that was rock bottom and I managed to pull out of it enough to find the love of my life. That should have been the end, but it isn't. There is still fundamentally something wrong with the way I perceive myself. And it's nigh impossible for most people to understand. I'm married and pursuing a Ph. D. at one of the premier institutions in the country. How could I possibly think badly of myself? But I do. To me, I'm here because I managed to trick the graduate committee into accepting me, and I came because I hoped I could find my confidence here. So far, no dice. I feel like the dumbest one here, and it only gets worse when my classmates talk shop, or trade stories from the Harvard interviews. I did not get in there. No, I wouldn't have gone there, but that's irrelevant. Now that it's time to select labs, I'm convinced that if any lab has more than 2 people interested, the lab certainly won't want me. Why would they? So many people have told me that I shouldn't feel this way. To stop feeling this way. And quite frankly, I'm sick of it. Somehow, my feelings of inadequacy are tempered with this odd optimism that if I just keep going, I'll like myself someday. If I just get into MIT, if I just get into this lab, if I just. . . Somehow I still feel like there's a chance I can fix this hole in my psyche eventually. The fact is, I'm obviously functional. So if everyone doesn't mind, I will just go on the way I have been. I don't need to be fixed, at least not by these people who have just as many hangups as I do.

Welcome to Boston, MA aka the North Pole

2005-01-23T23:11:00.000-05:00

None of these are our car, thank God, but good Lord. . .

The petitioner presents Exhibit A, Your Honor

2005-01-23T23:09:00.000-05:00

The offending unshoveled sidewalk

An open letter to my landlord

2005-01-23T14:05:00.000-05:00

Dear benevolent landlords, Up until now, I like to think we've had a very pleasant relationship. Your timely response to our vermin problem was the envy of all our friends. However, I have to take issue with your dealings with snow. As you may (or may not, I guess) have noticed, large snow dumpages like the one presently making national news don't adhere to the 9 to 5 schedule that your maintenance men would prefer. However, if you'll excuse the colloquism, TOO FUCKING BAD! Get your asses out here and shovel! I have places to be and things to do and am not looking forward to wading knee deep in snow simply to get out my front door. Please tell your maintenance men that if a regular day job is what they want, this is not the job for them. Oh, and if you think you can scrimp on paying them because it's weekend stuff, I would strongly reconsider. Kisses, The tenants in 2R

Pack it up, Pack it in

2005-01-20T23:53:00.000-05:00

I was watching some indistinguishable VH1 show the other day (I Love. . . Godknowswhat) and they were actually waxing sentimental about Jump Around. And the whole time I was sitting there watching them talk about how cool it was, I wanted to shout at them, "You just don't get it, you weren't there, man!" I mean, yeah, we only had football season tickets that one year. But if the team hadn't been so awful, we totally would have gotten them again. And the student section race/Jump Around was almost worth the $100. Almost. I like to think that the team's return to decency was in no small part due to my sacrifice for my fellow students by not attending. Ran into a summer UW TA at the gym today. She had on a TAA t-shirt. Complained that usually people in UW gear (Ben was wearing his Bucky sweatshirt) only have it because they interviewed there, or have a cousin there, or what-have-you. She said she missed the Serf. Dunno about that one. I guess I miss it, but only because it was familiar and I had a routine there. Plus it was closer to home than the Z Center is. The stuff here, even in the small gym, is very nice. And their reservation system for cardio machines is so much simpler. And the locker rooms are nicer. I suppose that isn't everything, though.

Know when to hold 'em

2005-01-13T01:35:00.000-05:00

Texas Hold 'Em, that is. Yes, it's the trendy thing, but I would just like to point out for the record that I knew how to play long before it was the major trend. We even tried to convince Russ to do blinds instead of antes, and he refused because he didn't get it. Anyway, I was the big winner in a tournament of 11 of my dear classmates and husband. A whole $25. Yippee me!

So much for romanticism. . .

2005-01-10T01:41:00.000-05:00

As usual, the team I only want to love has broken my heart again this year. I could have lived with a loss to any other team, but that hated team. I am taking a deep breath, I am reminding myself that it's only football, and has no bearing on my life whatsoever, thus I will perservere. As an added bonus, I don't have to face any smug Vikings fans tomorrow, thank God. I managed to protect my heart at least a little by finally going to see Ben's physics hockey team play. And for all the joking that it would be hilarious to see physicists on skates, I was honestly impressed. No doubt it is difficult to teach adults to play hockey when they can barely skate, but for beginners, they were good. They hustled and held their positions well, hardly ever went offsides, and kept the puck in the other team's zone for the majority of the game. Ben is a gifted teacher. I'm very happy that he wants to get tenure somewhere and teach, not just because of the financial security it would give us, but because it will be the perfect use of his talents, shaping the futures of young people that actually have the capacity to appreciate it.

Win it for. . . part 2

2005-01-09T16:35:00.000-05:00

The kickoff is about to happen, and they've just observed a moment of silence. So in the spirit of the Red Sox Faithful, I'd like to offer this as a born and bred cheesehead: Win it for Reggie, guys. He did so much so that you could be in this position today, with the admiration of the league. Make him proud.

New Year's Resolutions are Stupid

2005-01-03T18:50:00.000-05:00

But I'm making some anyway. I want to get back my wedding body, not because I feel so encumbered by the extra 5 pounds, but because I felt a lot healthier then, and because if I don't get back on track, pretty soon my clothes won't fit anymore and replacing them is an unnecessary expense. If I could just get a workout schedule, it could be done in no time, but I'm so tired all the time, I'm not sure. I also want to quit biting my nails, once and for all. Genetics caused me to bite them practically down to the bone. This must stop. It will stop. I'm back in Boston again and I don't think I've decided yet how I feel about it. I miss my family. And I'm nervous about rotations and picking a lab. I don't feel smart enough for this. It's unclear just what is expected of me, but then that just falls under everyone's favorite catch-all "It depends on the advisor and the student." Sigh.

Blah blah blah TWoPcakes

2004-12-23T19:07:00.000-05:00

I spent all semester frustrated that I just could not keep up with the forum threads on TWoP for the Apprentice or the Amazing Race. I would give myself a much longer break from homework than would be sensible to read, then go back to work and return later, finding an extra 50 pages to read. Being on vacation and having all the time in the world, however, leaves me feeling that it was probably better to be perpetually behind. Waiting for new posts to show up is brain-numbing. Not to mention that spending this much time pouring over extensive, albeit hilarious, minutiae of a television show offends the intellectual in me that used to boast that "reality" TV was beneath me. What I really should do is finish Reading Lolita in Tehran, which I have been attempting to get through since the end of the honeymoon. The book isn't bad - far from it, it's really interesting. But somewhere in the development of the internet, books became less "right here, right now" than my short attention span would allow. TWoP has also, in part, anyway, cultured an unhealthy fixation with acquiring TIVO as soon as possible. Dad has DVR from the cable company, and having experimented with it, I have decided that I need it. Really need it. Comcast, the evil multimedia Conglomo (We Own You) in Cambridge has a DVR service, but I think it's a rip-off. $16 a month, and you only get 60 hours of recording memory. Contrast with Tivo, which is only $13 a month, although you have to buy your own box. Once that overhead is taken care of, however, it's cheaper from then on. Ben made the apt comment that it actually wouldn't be a frivolous investment because it would allow us to fully utilize the cable service, for which we pay plenty. Damn he's smart! I should marry him or something.

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2004-12-22T13:10:00.000-05:00

A B+ in both biochemistry and genetics. I'll take it! And if that isn't good enough, the fine members of the MIT graduate committee can be cordially introduced to my fist. But in all seriousness, it is most likely just fine.

Answer Every Question With "Doing great, love my new city, pick a lab next semester"

2004-12-19T23:14:00.000-05:00

Returning home from my first semester of grad school has been much like the wedding was. A lot of smiling, nodding, and answering the same questions over and over. Entering a Ph. D. program is not a common occurence in my family (at the moment I can only think of one cousin who has done it), so it's necessary to repeatedly explain the process. No, I don't pay tuition, yes I do get paid, even though I'm not in a lab at the moment. I'll be in a lab by the end of next semester. I should be done in 4 or 5 years. Yes, that is a long time. This is coming off a lot snarkier than I think I intended. I suppose I don't mind the questions. The problem is more that in tiny Green Bay, this is such an odd thing for one to do that I sometimes hear in people's voices a bit of reproach for not getting a real job, though tempered with awe at the undertaking. I think the semester ended well, or at least, I am getting better at convincing myself that everything is going to be fine the more time goes by. I have reached the point, however, where I am almost ready to scream at everyone that my low amount of self esteem is involuntary and if I could do something about it, I would. I have listened to so much armchair psychiatry in the last few weeks, and it has been most aggravating when it comes from people who have the same insecurities I have regarding classes, etc. I know they mean well, but I can hardly see why they have no problem allowing themselves to wallow in anxiety about not passing the breadth requirements, but God forbid that I have doubts about myself. Now that I've completely wallowed in negativity, I will say that it is a relief to be finished, and that seeing everyone again has been fantastic. I've gotten to indulge in many of my favorite Madison delicacies, including Pie (of the potent variety) and curry from Lao Lang Xang. If only there were a restaurant even remotely as good in Cambridge. My goals for the next two weeks are as follows: relax, relax, relax, and if there's any time left, relax. Perhaps I'll have more motivation to continue my online thinking out loud on a more regular basis.

Just As You Are

2004-11-15T22:23:00.000-05:00

Ah! Despite Blogger's best efforts to stifle my creativity by preventing me from babbling, I refuse to let this new blog die, even if I neglect it far more than I should. There is something beautiful about a well done blog, for example, that of Nerissa Nields (linked at right). Sometimes I fancy myself a bit of a writer and even though I have no talent whatsoever, I am determined to give this my best shot and see what I can make of it. Anyway, I went to see the Bridget Jones sequel this past weekend, hence the title. Yes, it was generic and a fairly close remake of the first movie, but I enjoyed myself anyway. It's no different than enjoying oneself watching any film of the Vin Diesel catalogue! I absolutely love Colin Firth. I think Ben should hope that he never shows up at our door, because I am gone, never to look back. The people I went with are not the same people I socialize with most of the time. And no offense to them, because they are all very nice, but it didn't take long to remember why. Really, it's not their fault, or mine either, I suppose. It stems from the fact that I have been spending probably the last six years or so primarily in the company of guys. It's changed me a great deal, for better or worse. So these days, when I'm with other women, I often feal gauche or crass, even if I'm doing my best to watch my language and lay off the stories of drunken stumbliness. It's odd because all throughout wedding planning, I bemoaned the fact that I had few women friends to share my excitement with. On some level, I really did want the four or five bridesmaids that seem to be customary these days. But now here I am, given the opportunity to make up for all of that, and I just can't. It's exhausting. With only a couple of exceptions, I feel like it just isn't possible to maintain the same types of friendships with women that I used to. Not that I had a terrible amount of success with it. I do have friends here and I am starting to like it, but I can't help missing the boys back in Madison, who swear as much as I do or more, definitely drink more, who can geek it up with the best of them, and yet never freaked out when the dreaded "W" word was spoken. Tenacious D was right after all. Friendship is rare.

Reinforcements!

2004-11-07T23:23:00.000-05:00

Ah the simple pleasure of Worms Armageddon. We hadn't played it since our first apartment. And for the first time, we saw what happens when all the worms die! If only I could have aimed my Holy Hand Grenade better. More tomorrow, hopefully.

This one is for all of them

2004-10-27T23:46:00.000-04:00

I am speechless. Truly speechless. For all of these people, I hope it's everything they dreamed it would be.

Holy Crap!

2004-10-21T01:11:00.000-04:00

Apocalypse countdown starting now. Greatest. . . Comeback. . . Ever! For real! I should be out experiencing this. But I'm not. Stupid exam.

And with a wave of his arms, he kept it fair

2004-10-18T23:02:00.000-04:00

Ok, so Red Sox fever is setting in. I can't help it! You'd have to be living under a rock to keep from getting caught up in it. Go David Ortiz, my favorite Sox guy! But I won't be disappointed if/when they lose.

Flight of a Spaulding on an October night

2004-10-12T23:09:00.000-04:00

As I write this, the Red Sox battling for AL supremacy and a trip to the inaccurately named World Series. Despite my earlier grumblings, watching baseball really isnt' that bad. Small doses at work during undergrad have built up my tolerance to the point where, to my surprise, I find myself actually willing to watch. Actually, of everyone in Boston, I'm probably in the best position. I like the Sox just fine and will be as happy as anyone when they win. However, I also know that to everything there is a season, a time to be born, a time to die, and a time for the Sox to choke. It restores balance to the universe. Nothing is certain except for death, taxes, and the Sox losing in October. I understand that it has to be this way. What will the Sox become if they cease to be the oft denied team that people are proud to cheer for? They'd just be like any other team. Therefore, if the Sox lose, I will happily go about my daily life knowing that the universe is in working order. And if they win, I will hoard non-perishable items and board up my windows, waiting for the apocalypse, or the end of the riots, whichever happens first.

Farewell, Superman

2004-10-11T13:32:00.000-04:00

SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness or farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar. -Alfred Lord Tennyson They say that deaths of famous people come in threes. After Janet Leigh and Rodney Dangerfield, I wondered who was going to be next. But I was still very, very surprised and saddened that Christopher Reeve passed away. Throughout his whole struggle, he did his utmost to stay strong and hopeful. I didn't realize until today that his life expectancy was so shortened by his accident. That's how strong he was. I admired that he never lost hope that if he worked hard, and drove other people to work hard, that they would find a cure. He made us all believe that he would walk again. I believed it. He may not have reached that goal, but others will, in time, because of him. Thank you, Christopher Reeve. Rest in peace.

You know I tend to think too much. . .

2004-10-10T23:49:00.000-04:00

. . . and drink too much (at a time). Today it's been me versus the hangover. I have no one to blame but myself. I certainly know better than to drink three vodka cranberries and then go straight to bed without water. If anything, the more I do it, the harder it gets. My body was much more forgiving when I was new at it. Now many hours later, with powerade and Advil, I think I'm on the mend. The actual drunkeness was interesting. I tend to do one of two things when I drink: completely spill my guts, or try to get someone else to spill their guts. Or sometimes both. I have fuzzy memories of blathering on ad nauseum about unpleasant sorts of things that I've had on my mind lately but don't really tell people about. I'm certainly very happy with my life right now and I could not ask for much more, but my past still haunts me to some extent. My rational mind can just push it out of the way since it's so unimportant, but add liquor, stir, and it all comes tumbling out. I love this apartment. It's not big by most people's standards, but compared to where we were, it's positively palatial. Being able to relax at home is nice. This is home, at least within the confines of these walls. Outside the walls. . . I haven't decided yet. It's pretty here and I like it, but I don't have that invigorating feeling of "I live here! This is my home!" that I had in Madison. It's so different. Everything is different. And I think on some level I'm afraid that if I allow myself to absolutely love it and own it, some integral part of my identity is going to die. I had to leave Wisconsin, I had to experience other things, but it makes me sad to think that in the process I will replace and reshape a large part of who I am. It's a scary thought.

I'm not dead yet, so I must be stronger

2004-10-09T11:25:00.000-04:00

Another rough week over. I feel a little silly for having been so wound up about it, but it was a lot of stress, dominated by my archnemesis, biochemistry. For the record, my professor thinks I will be fine, the TAs think I will be fine, so I suppose I will be fine. Most amusing part of the whole ordeal? Frank's comment of "You know, you're at MIT, having come from the University of Wisconsin. You can feel free to be more arrogant." My iPod has a sense of humor. I started my Classic Rock playlist and the first song it plucked was "Start Me Up" by the Rolling Stones. I didn't appreciate it spastically scanning through half a dozen songs before it decided it could play one, though. Technology is a bitch. Went to the second Nields show last night. It was good, although the venue was very, very crowded. The Nields always get a sizeable college student contingent, so I suppose it's expected that when your venue is at the epicenter of, say, 5 college campuses, you're going to get that much more of that audience. I just wish the actual room had been bigger. It was almost a little distracting being elbow to elbow with so many strangers and the ceiling being so low. But the music was still fabulous. And Lord, when Katryna announced that the Sox had won, I have never seen a woman that pregnant jump up and down. I was almost afraid the baby would fall out! As for today, I have several papers that need to be read and analyzed, but it's so hard to be motivated when I've had so little time to breathe. It's also hard because I know that I'll have Monday off (Columbus Day is a real holiday here? Why?) to do work that I don't get done today or tomorrow. But that doesn't mean I should rest on my laurels. We'll see which part of my brain wins out.

Of haircuts, costumes, and other mundane things

2004-10-06T23:16:00.000-04:00

My first haircut in Boston today. I went to this Aveda salon on Commonwealth Avenue that was recommended to me by one of the Physics Wives Gone Wild (which I suppose I now am). Unfotunately, the particular stylist she recommended is off getting herself wedded and (presumably) honeymooned. There was no way I could put off a haircut until she returned, so I asked for whoever was available. So today I went, and the girl did a good job and I like it. The thing is, I still would like to have my hair done by the stylist I originally wanted, since she was absolutely raved about. So I suppose it's awkward to return to the salon, but not the stylist. Hopefully in 2 months she'll have forgotten me. I think I managed to come up with a decent Halloween costume today. It won't require much actual "costume" per se, but will hopefully be quirky and recognizable enough to work. I don't generally think much about Halloween, but since the first-years are responsible for putting on the Halloween party for the whole department, I need to get into the spirit of things. I'm not helping plan the party because I've quite had my fill of large event planning for the near future, thank you. That being said, I've already been questioning the tactics people seem to like (e.g. I prefer to stress quality over quantity with my liquor, especially when there will be tons of other things to drink, but that's just me). I obviously have no right to complain if I'm unwilling to roll up my sleeves and pitch in, but I excel at doing things I'm not supposed to! And if it's a day ending in -y, then I feel inept in biochemistry. But since that point has been belabored to death offline as well as on, I think I'll leave it for the moment. With any luck, light will be shed on this issue tomorrow and I may actually have better news.

Not for the faint of heart (or the very busy)

2004-10-05T23:54:00.000-04:00

Roughly two and a half hours of my life that I will never regain has been lost to this webpage. I'm not sure how to feel about it. Hilariously funny, to be sure, but it's so long that about halfway through it became less about enjoyment and more about finishing reading the damn thing. Mostly because I figured it impossible to return to my spot if I stopped. Why didn't the guy just set up a blog? As for school, I can't make up my mind if I have any aptitude for biochemistry or not. Occasionally I think I can do it as well as anyone and other times, I feel completely inept. Perhaps my meeting with the professor will shed some light on this. Other than that, I think I am adjusting well. I got back my genetics exam and while the TAs were trying to console people not at all used to scores this low, I was completely over it because I had actually passed! Off I go. Sleep is a virtue. If I don't believe it fully now, I certainly will in about 7 hours.

My work is never done

2004-10-03T23:24:00.000-04:00

It's almost guaranteed to wear off, but for the moment, I just can't stop messing with this thing. I've changed things, changed them back, added stuff, gotten rid of stuff, and just kept staring at it. All to the detriment of my biochemistry problem set. Oh who am I kidding, I would have found some other reason to ignore it. So far my writing is pretty inane. Hopefully it gets more interesting when the novelty wears off.

Never say never. . .

2004-10-03T14:40:00.000-04:00

Not a chance in hell, I said. Oh well, stranger things have happened. We'll see how this goes. . . Last night the husband and I went to see Nerissa and Katryna Nields in at the Iron Horse Music Hall in Northampton, MA. What an awesome show! It was a full band show, which I'd never seen before. By the time I was a full-fledged fan of theirs, the band had essentially broken up and Nerissa and Katryna were touring as an accoustic duo. For this show, they had an electric guitar, bass, and drums, so the music sounded just like it does on my CDs. I was grinning like an idiot from the time the show started until we walked out the door. I'd had "Best Black Dress" stuck in my head the whole week prior, and when they opened with it, I thought I would just keel over. Not to say that the stripped down shows with just Nerissa and Katryna aren't great in their own right. In fact, the two of them are coming to Cambridge on Friday and Ben and I will be going again to see them. But it'll probably be a very different show. I'm excited. This has definitely been the best part about living in MA so far. As far as school? Jury's still out, but things are looking up. I don't think I'll drop out this week, ha ha. It's been overwhelming, but everyone has been really supportive when I've expressed my concerns about the pressure, etc., so I think I'll make it. Edited to add: So far I really like the changes that Blogger made since I abandoned my last blog. I even like this generic template, which is excellent, seeing as I have no time to write new code (wait, who am I kidding? I just don't feel like it, or I would make time). I still think this could be a good idea, but we'll see if it wears off in a week or two and updating it becomes a chore. I just figured it was worth a shot because since we moved, I've periodically wished I still had my blog to post my thoughts on the things that I've been doing, such as the above. I think as long as I keep the motivation to post to it, and I can continue to act like an adult, it'll work out just fine.