I for one resolve to at least TRY to post more in 2009. Hopefully, Evil Twin #1 will have more time to post as well. A Happy New Year to everyone! Wednesday, December 31, 2008
3...2...1...
I for one resolve to at least TRY to post more in 2009. Hopefully, Evil Twin #1 will have more time to post as well. A Happy New Year to everyone! 
The prodigal blogger is back
Right now I am sitting on a train eating cold pineapple and ham pizza, listening to my best of 2008 mix: Kanye, theTingtings, Vampire Weekend, Eagles of Death Metal and others I soon will have to file away under “stuff I listened to when I was young.”
This train ride is a fitting end to my “Rumschpringhe.” The end being an unplanned trip to New York City for a vodka-infused-Scrabble-Wii-playing New Year’s Eve Party.
In my Rumschpringhe, I did like the Amish would do. Drank copious amounts of alcohol in all forms. Danced inappropriately in multiple venues. Slung drinks. Got outed at queer bar only to be reinstated as a hetero the next week. Convinced eighteen year-olds that the F-word was a perfectly valid adjective in describing chemical reactions. Participated in a bar brawl. Made out publicly and not so publicly with a leader of a moped gang (and by the way “moped” is not a typo.) Got in a drunken moped accident. Sliced my finger open with a piece of glass. Joined Facebook.
The real question is how do the Amish get reintroduced into society? How will I ease myself back into life of a job and responsibilities?
Until then I plan on springing an unexpected visit on my friends, drinking myself silly, gorging myself on Jamaican beef patties, and crashing on someone’s couch. As I said a perfect end to my Rumschpringhe.
This train ride is a fitting end to my “Rumschpringhe.” The end being an unplanned trip to New York City for a vodka-infused-Scrabble-Wii-playing New Year’s Eve Party.
In my Rumschpringhe, I did like the Amish would do. Drank copious amounts of alcohol in all forms. Danced inappropriately in multiple venues. Slung drinks. Got outed at queer bar only to be reinstated as a hetero the next week. Convinced eighteen year-olds that the F-word was a perfectly valid adjective in describing chemical reactions. Participated in a bar brawl. Made out publicly and not so publicly with a leader of a moped gang (and by the way “moped” is not a typo.) Got in a drunken moped accident. Sliced my finger open with a piece of glass. Joined Facebook.
The real question is how do the Amish get reintroduced into society? How will I ease myself back into life of a job and responsibilities?
Until then I plan on springing an unexpected visit on my friends, drinking myself silly, gorging myself on Jamaican beef patties, and crashing on someone’s couch. As I said a perfect end to my Rumschpringhe.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Civic Duty
Just a reminder to everyone to get out and vote! And once you do, you can get all sorts of free stuff (Starbucks, Ben & Jerry's and Krispy Kreme to name a few), so not only do you get to cast your ballot, but you can experience a sugar rush/caffeine buzz on Corporate America's dime to boot!Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Schadenfreude
definition: –noun. [German : Schaden, damage (from Middle High German schade, from Old High German scado) + Freude, joy (from Middle High German vreude, from Old High German frewida, from frō, happy).] satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.
The BF is back from a 2 week trip to Russia. I was invited to go on the trip, but passed. The way that BF communicated his intention on going on the trip (without me) was... less than ideal. Also, he was travelling with 2 women (friends of friends), neither of which I really cared for, with one in particular that I would say that I actually dislike (the "Girl I Don't Care For"). The other is nice enough, but not someone that I would choose to be friends with. Acquaintance, yes. Friend, no. I will refer to her as "Acquaintance".
Admittedly, I can be paranoid about things -- in particular, I was convinced that BF going on a 2 week long trip in a non-english speaking country with 2 single women (one of which always seems to forget ever having met me) was a bad idea; that long hours spent on a train would lead to romance. This is probably a result of too many hours watching Lifetime (television for women) made-for-tv movies. BF is generally a stand-up, very trustworthy guy. I knew that he wouldn't cheat on me, but I was worried that he'd be charmed by the Girl I Don't Care For and then break up with me. I had convinced myself that if in fact that did happen, if things fell apart, then our relationship wasn't as strong as it should be after 4+ years. I am a fatalist in that sense.
Before the trip, BF had expressed some concern that travelling with Acquaintance would be tough -- she is a girly girl and not too keen on trying new things. He thought that the Girl I Don't Care For would be cool to travel with -- she's travelled a lot on her own in the past, always to interesting and exotic places. Plus, during the few times that I have seen BF and the GIDCF together, they always seem to be in themiddle of an extremely engaging conversation. Another item to feed my paranoia. I am relieved to report that there was no international romance between the BF and the Girl I Don't Care For. In fact, she sounds absolutely horrible to travel with. It secretly made me happy that she made their trip less than completely fun.
GIDCF did a good job of raining on everyone's parade. Also, she sounds C-R-A-Z-Y from many of the stories, blaming everyone else for her absent-mindedness and picking fights with Russian police for no good reason. As an example, as they were departing Moscow to head back to NYC (stopping over in Helsinki), BF reminded her that all liquids have to be checked into your luggage since they were transiting from a non-EU country through an EU country. She decided to ignore his advice and when the airport security tried to confiscate the $20 bottle of vodka she had bought in the airport (but before duty free) she started arguing with them and demanded that she be able to go back through security and passport control so that she could check her Marc Jacobs purse onto the plane (BF assured me that it was a purse, not anything approaching a carry-on bag), having wrapped her sweater around the bottle. This seems like the perfect example of the old adage "penny wise but pound foolish". She only backed down after she was surrounded by 5 Russian guards. This was all over a bottle of vodka that I saw at my local liquor store just the other day.
Occasional craziness can be overlooked, but not being willing to compromise on what sites to see, restaurants to go to, or food to order cannot. She also had a habit of berating the locals for losing her things in coat check, when she had never actually checked them into coat check in the first place, having forgetten them in other places. I'd like to think that I am a much better travel companion. BF and I have travelled to 10 different countries together and have never been arrested (or almost arrested). Although BF does routinely get pulled aside by airport security when we travel internationally--born in Tehran seems to be a big red flag--while I go straight through with no problems. After BF told me these stories I asked if he would ever travel with the Girl I Don't Care For again, BF said (not surprisingly), not in the foreseeable future.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Complementary Colors
{design: David Creighton-Pester & Evan Ferstenfeld }
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Another one bites the dust
I read this today and it made me sad:
"The Shutter: 17 Year-Old Cafe Mozart: An alarmed reader informed us today that the website is down and the phone is disconnected for Lincoln Center staple Cafe Mozart. A spot check confirms: the space is closed and gutted, and from a sign in the window, it looks like the place was seized by the landlord. Theater-goers, it's time to start looking for a new post-opera snack spot." Cafe Mozart was a place that ET#1 and I would frequent during college, especially when our families were in town. In fact, we bumped into each other there (with our families) after graduation, completely unplanned. While their food has gone downhill over the years, it was still a great place to grab dessert or a coffee after seeing a movie at the Sony/Loews (now AMC) in Lincoln Square or after seeing something at Lincoln Center. Sniff sniff...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Secret may not be crap
My hippie boss, that runs the high school research program at HMS, sometimes really irks me. Mainly, because she constantly hugs me. It is weird. But also because I think she can be inappropriate. For instance, a few weeks ago during high school student orientation, she made a bunch of 16, 17, and 18 year olds watch this dvd called "The Secret." In a nutshell, it is many mini interviews with experts (some being scientists, whom I summarily checked their publication records and was unimpressed) saying that whatever you want you will get if you just have a positive attitude. Apparently, that is the secret to success. I huffed and puffed and somehow managed to not yell "Shut this crap off!" I think the self inflicted nail marks in my thighs helped.
But about two weeks later something strange happened. A has been determined to go sailing this summer and in fact, has been planning sailing lessons. A bevy of activities seemed to thwart these efforts. It was a Sunday, and we were determined that this day we would take the sailing orietation class. We met up at the Charles River boat house an hour before the orientation meeting began. When we asked the dissaffected teenager, "how do we sign up for the class," she replied, "just wait over there, it will start in an hour." To amuse ourselves, A bought us snacks of fruit and smoked gouda flavored popcorn, a gourmet snack food that would only be found in the upper crust Beacon Hill neighborhood. We ate by the river, hoping the recent rash of summer thunderstorms would no strike while we were one the docks. But because we needed good weather, good weather appeared.
We arrived to the meeting place 15 minutes before class was to start. Just as we sat down though, a brunette preppy man in his late twenties approached us. "Do you want to out on the water?"
Confused blank stares from A and me.
"Are you ladies part of the club? Never mind that does not matter, would you like to go sailing today?"
"We are here for the orientation class," A said.
"Oh, this would be better than that. I want to take out a boat, but I can't take it out alone. Would the two of you like to come out with me?" He asked.
We looked at each other. "Of course," we said.
I'll admit to being confused for the first thirty minutes while the two of us helped our new compadre, H, get a boat out of the lagoon and into the Charles. What were we doing? We had randomly accepted a boat ride from some stranger with no hesitation. It was exhilirating. The boat zipped. While the boat leaned due to the pressure on the sails, I dipped my hands into the water. H lamenented on low winds, but to me the experience was exhilirating.
H taught us the ropes, literally taught us which ropes to pull and why. He told us about quartering, tacking, and jibing. And he told us that there once was a Hooters in Boston. Who knew.
For an hour and a half, A and I got a personalized sailing lesson. Perhaps even more than we expected for a Sunday afternoon. But maybe just maybe our positive attitudes for the day, attracted H to us and therefore we got what we wished. Maybe I will give my hippie boss some slack. Probably not, she still hugs me and that part is still odd.
But about two weeks later something strange happened. A has been determined to go sailing this summer and in fact, has been planning sailing lessons. A bevy of activities seemed to thwart these efforts. It was a Sunday, and we were determined that this day we would take the sailing orietation class. We met up at the Charles River boat house an hour before the orientation meeting began. When we asked the dissaffected teenager, "how do we sign up for the class," she replied, "just wait over there, it will start in an hour." To amuse ourselves, A bought us snacks of fruit and smoked gouda flavored popcorn, a gourmet snack food that would only be found in the upper crust Beacon Hill neighborhood. We ate by the river, hoping the recent rash of summer thunderstorms would no strike while we were one the docks. But because we needed good weather, good weather appeared.
We arrived to the meeting place 15 minutes before class was to start. Just as we sat down though, a brunette preppy man in his late twenties approached us. "Do you want to out on the water?"
Confused blank stares from A and me.
"Are you ladies part of the club? Never mind that does not matter, would you like to go sailing today?"
"We are here for the orientation class," A said.
"Oh, this would be better than that. I want to take out a boat, but I can't take it out alone. Would the two of you like to come out with me?" He asked.
We looked at each other. "Of course," we said.
I'll admit to being confused for the first thirty minutes while the two of us helped our new compadre, H, get a boat out of the lagoon and into the Charles. What were we doing? We had randomly accepted a boat ride from some stranger with no hesitation. It was exhilirating. The boat zipped. While the boat leaned due to the pressure on the sails, I dipped my hands into the water. H lamenented on low winds, but to me the experience was exhilirating.
H taught us the ropes, literally taught us which ropes to pull and why. He told us about quartering, tacking, and jibing. And he told us that there once was a Hooters in Boston. Who knew.
For an hour and a half, A and I got a personalized sailing lesson. Perhaps even more than we expected for a Sunday afternoon. But maybe just maybe our positive attitudes for the day, attracted H to us and therefore we got what we wished. Maybe I will give my hippie boss some slack. Probably not, she still hugs me and that part is still odd.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
In the weeds
I have been a bad blogger. This fact is undeniable. Since the loss of a regular routine, I have seemed to have lost the ability to post. Normally, it was my Monday morning routine. Something I would do that would make me look busy while at the same time easing into my week.
The lack of ritual has put my world in a tizzy. I have added the amount of time that work and it is approximately the same as before. The only true difference being that I am bouncing around from place to place. And now I am for lack of a better term "in the weeds."
I had never heard of this term before, but it gets used a lot at the restaurant. I think it might be an east coast thing, not sure. It means that you are super busy and orders are piling up behind you.
All my work woes are compounded with the summer here, and so many fun things happening. Yikes! So much for my summer of boredom.
Anyway I thought everyone deserved an explanation. I am going to get out my machete of time management out and be better about the posting....I promise.
PS
Posts that need to be completed
- Sailing with A.
- How to be a herder/disciplinarian of teenagers.
- What not to do on a date: perspective of a restaurant worker.
The lack of ritual has put my world in a tizzy. I have added the amount of time that work and it is approximately the same as before. The only true difference being that I am bouncing around from place to place. And now I am for lack of a better term "in the weeds."
I had never heard of this term before, but it gets used a lot at the restaurant. I think it might be an east coast thing, not sure. It means that you are super busy and orders are piling up behind you.
All my work woes are compounded with the summer here, and so many fun things happening. Yikes! So much for my summer of boredom.
Anyway I thought everyone deserved an explanation. I am going to get out my machete of time management out and be better about the posting....I promise.
PS
Posts that need to be completed
- Sailing with A.
- How to be a herder/disciplinarian of teenagers.
- What not to do on a date: perspective of a restaurant worker.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Fitness Starts... Now!
Following in the footsteps of Evil and Steph, Xtian (aka Big Head) and I are also getting on the road to fitness. We have budgeted a little over 2 months to lose 15% of our total body weight. I guess this means no more chocolate cake for breakfast (which is what I have been having for breakfast the past 4 days -- I couldn't let the cake that my grandmother and I baked go to waste...) and time for me start running again.
Unlike Evil and Steph, the only thing on the line for us is a fancy dinner, since Xtian is already writing "Date or Die" posts and unless I want to start cheating on BF, I can't really go on any dates. Just spoke to BF and he wants in on it too. This is good, since I like to blame my weight gain on him and his fantastic cooking.
Monday, June 30, 2008
A pocket gay made my day
I was working on Saturday night at the restaurant. Tables were full and in the foyer people kept piling up anxious to get inside. Loud chatter drowned out the noise of Hot Chip that was playing on repeat.
I was only working for a few hours, just to help out during the rush between 7-9:30pm. My job was to run food out to the tables. I would cheese it up with a little story behind the dishes, what inspired (the very white woman chef) to come up with these "authentic" flavor combinations, how to eat the food properly, and flirty comments.
There were two of us acting as runners that night, me and a small gay asian boy. He is the definition of fabulous. We spent a bunch of the night gabbing. He taught me the "Soul real" fist bump for Randy Jackson presents America's Best Dance Crew (ABDC for those of you in the know.)
I said something, I cannot remember what it was, but it inspired the question "how old are you?"
"Old," I replied.
"No, seriously, how old?" he asked.
"32"
"No, way. I would have guessed 26, 28 max. Wow. I swear this fits my theory. J NEVER hires ugly people here. Ask Chef, she'll confirm it," he stated.
I was only working for a few hours, just to help out during the rush between 7-9:30pm. My job was to run food out to the tables. I would cheese it up with a little story behind the dishes, what inspired (the very white woman chef) to come up with these "authentic" flavor combinations, how to eat the food properly, and flirty comments.
There were two of us acting as runners that night, me and a small gay asian boy. He is the definition of fabulous. We spent a bunch of the night gabbing. He taught me the "Soul real" fist bump for Randy Jackson presents America's Best Dance Crew (ABDC for those of you in the know.)
I said something, I cannot remember what it was, but it inspired the question "how old are you?"
"Old," I replied.
"No, seriously, how old?" he asked.
"32"
"No, way. I would have guessed 26, 28 max. Wow. I swear this fits my theory. J NEVER hires ugly people here. Ask Chef, she'll confirm it," he stated.
Monday, June 23, 2008
What is a workaholic?
Okay so I graduated. My lab left and an my PI is currently in Texas enjoying margaritas and tacos. I am stranded in Boston with nothing to do. It literally took me one week of nothingness before I started climbing the walls. I have no idea why I lost the ability to chill-ax, but I have.
To keep occupied, I have decided to take on some activities. 1) I help coordinate a program that has high school students working in labs. 2) I am a waitress at a hip Asian-food-for-white-people restaurant. 3) I am a lab technician for my friend who need to graduate by December. 4) I am reviewing fellowship grants for my former PI. 5) Making random visits to A's office with some kind of foodstuff. 6) Read journal articles to stay current and to make use of my library privileges before they expire.
I added the time I put in for all of these activities, and realized that it added up to over 50 hours for one week. Yet, I felt like I still had way too much free time on my hands. Did I really work that hard as a grad student? I thought I was a slacker. And what does that mean about my social life that I fill all my hours with these things?
Who knows, but hopefully it will make for an interesting summer.
To keep occupied, I have decided to take on some activities. 1) I help coordinate a program that has high school students working in labs. 2) I am a waitress at a hip Asian-food-for-white-people restaurant. 3) I am a lab technician for my friend who need to graduate by December. 4) I am reviewing fellowship grants for my former PI. 5) Making random visits to A's office with some kind of foodstuff. 6) Read journal articles to stay current and to make use of my library privileges before they expire.
I added the time I put in for all of these activities, and realized that it added up to over 50 hours for one week. Yet, I felt like I still had way too much free time on my hands. Did I really work that hard as a grad student? I thought I was a slacker. And what does that mean about my social life that I fill all my hours with these things?
Who knows, but hopefully it will make for an interesting summer.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
To Health (and vodka)
Today is National Russia Day. The kitchn is one of my favorite blogs and Russian Standard is one of my favorite vodkas. I'm going to have to try what look like some pretty tasty recipes in the link above. Za zdorovie!
Please tell me I am unphotogenic
Evil Twin #2 often chastises my reluctance to take pictures with myself in them. Maybe I am deluding myself, but I always hope I look better in real life than in pictures.
Proof of point: please observe what someone forwarded to me. She found it on the offical HSPH commencement website.
Proof of point: please observe what someone forwarded to me. She found it on the offical HSPH commencement website.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Dressing up like Harry Potter
"...I welcome you to the ancient and universal company of scholars and entrust to you the free inquiry of future generations." - President Drew Faust conferring the degrees of Doctorate of Philosophy.
It is hard to take graduation seriously when you are dressed like a color blind Harry Potter. And for you fashion forward readers, you would be appalled to know that my friends and I were upset that our robes were not flashy enough. Most universities have shiny silks to line the hood and 8 corner tams with gold tassels for Ph.D.s. Instead we have the muted crimson lining that matched our robes and *gasp* a four cornered velvet tam. We sat in our seats comparing the stitching of our crow's feet and wondering if our dark blue was really that distinguishable from aqua of Government.
It is hard to take graduation seriously when you are dressed like a color blind Harry Potter. And for you fashion forward readers, you would be appalled to know that my friends and I were upset that our robes were not flashy enough. Most universities have shiny silks to line the hood and 8 corner tams with gold tassels for Ph.D.s. Instead we have the muted crimson lining that matched our robes and *gasp* a four cornered velvet tam. We sat in our seats comparing the stitching of our crow's feet and wondering if our dark blue was really that distinguishable from aqua of Government. Although I have graduated a couple of times before, this time it seemed to mean a little more. Honestly, had my parents not insisted I would not have even attended the ceremony, but I am glad I did. It occurred to me when President Faust was talking that this would be last time that I would be a student. Ph.D.s are terminal degrees, nowhere to go from here. It is my equivalent to a third husband and I am stuck with this one. To take the analogy preposterously far, my mother even bought me the ridiculous robes for a little over $700 the approximate amount my cousin paid for her wedding dress.
I am sending my robes home. My mom promises me that she will get it dry cleaned and vacuum packed, like my sister's wedding dress. It will be unsealed when my first grad student marches, hopefully, within the next ten years. Or maybe not as my mom hinted that she and my dad might try it on because it is so funny looking, and my sister thought it would make a great Halloween costume.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Pomp and Circumstance
ET#1 is graduating today!!! She will walk at around 1:00 pm. I had sooo wanted to be there for it, but work got in the way... I will be there in spirit cheering her on. I also have people who promised to take pictures documenting this momentous occasion. Pictures of Doctor ET#1 coming soon...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Some People
... really get under my skin. I have no idea why. I can't explain it. Actually, I can, sort of. It's about how certain people choose to interact with others.
A bit of background -- I am representing a client in a certain transaction. There is someone in my office who is representing a different client on the opposite side of the transaction. I will refer to that person as "Opposing Counsel". Both of our clients are aware that our firm is on both sides of the deal -- conflict waivers have been signed, etc... This transaction also involves getting approvals from various government agencies which are notoriously nit-picky.
I have been asking Opposing Counsel for comments on a certain document for over 3 months. THREE MONTHS! About 2 months ago I sent the the same draft that I had sent to OC for review to the various government agencies for their review -- knowing that the government moves at a glacial pace. This morning, OC walks into my office and asks me all manner of questions in a very combative tone and demands answers. I'm in the middle of reviewing something else on a different deal, I don't have the document in front of me, and it's been 1 month since I've looked at it. OC says that the document doesn't make any sense that it needs to be re-drafted, OC doesn't understand why certain language is in the document, blah, blah, blah. I feel like I was totally ambushed, and in my own office!
After OC left my office, I found the file which was literally buried under all the other work that has come my way over the past few months, and I read what I had drafted, and what the various government agencies had reviewed, commented on, and approved. I am pretty sure that OC did not actually read the document for content -- skimming it and not bothering to process what was written. It's all there, spelled out in excruciating detail, the whole process identified step-by-step, so that anyone who has no idea what happened behind the scenes knows what's going on.
I hate that OC made me doubt my abilities. Upon further reflection, I realize that this was likely a tactical move -- the barging into my office without any warning. There was no phone call or email to say that OC reviewed the document and that we should discuss the comments. These are things that I would NEVER do to another attorney. Maybe that's why I'm so upset by all this. On top of all this, transactional work is supposed to be about getting people to agree, about getting the deal done. Asking for last-minute changes to a document that has already been reviewed ad nauseum not only by staff level attorneys, but by the head of the legal department of a government agency is uncalled for. I really wish OC wasn't part of my group. OC is killing this deal and it's really starting to get to me.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Notes from Baltimore
I am on the road. Not really, but that sounded a lot sexier than I am in a hotel room watching the Discovery Channel pretending to shave 15 minutes from my talk.
A new city is always disorienting for me, especially one like Baltimore that has so many invisible barriers that I am not to cross. Even though I was just going down the street, something I would walk in any other city, I was instructed to take a cab. Not because I would get lost but because I might get into an unsavory area.
My cabbie told me that the city has gotten a lot more safe in the past few years. "Look," he said, as he pointed to all the cops on the corner of every street.
My favorite part of Baltimore has been the Yuengling and the gelato. Like always I stumbled into a bar, and was happy to see my favorite beer on tap. Then from the bar I stumbled down the street and went into an organic gelato house. The milk was from local dairies and the fruit from local farms. I had a granny smith apple and gianduja, a gross combination unless the both were exceptional. Good thing they were.
That is it for now. I am sure I will have more to report soon.
A new city is always disorienting for me, especially one like Baltimore that has so many invisible barriers that I am not to cross. Even though I was just going down the street, something I would walk in any other city, I was instructed to take a cab. Not because I would get lost but because I might get into an unsavory area.
My cabbie told me that the city has gotten a lot more safe in the past few years. "Look," he said, as he pointed to all the cops on the corner of every street.
My favorite part of Baltimore has been the Yuengling and the gelato. Like always I stumbled into a bar, and was happy to see my favorite beer on tap. Then from the bar I stumbled down the street and went into an organic gelato house. The milk was from local dairies and the fruit from local farms. I had a granny smith apple and gianduja, a gross combination unless the both were exceptional. Good thing they were.
That is it for now. I am sure I will have more to report soon.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Not quite a stimulus
My mom used to tell me that it was gauche to talk about your money problems. I apparently never heeded those words, mainly because I was probably so impressed she knew the word "gauche."
Two weeks ago I got a welcomed gift from Uncle Sam. 600 dollars directly deposited into my bank account. Isn't just like a relative sneak money in your pocket and whisper in your ear spend it on something crazy?
Actually, I was expecting the money and had dreamed about what I was going to do with it. I had my eye on a pair of black Chie Mihara peep toe pumps on sale for 300 dollars. Or a brief case like Dr. L, an 83 year old professor emeritus, who carries around a beat up leather bag his wife gave him 40 years ago. Maybe I would buy new handle bars for my bike. Oh the possibilities.
But, alas, Harvard managed to suck those dreams away.
Dissertation printing fee: $233.94
Dissertation processing fee: $125
Gardisil vaccination not covered by my health insurance: $154
Grad Student council fee: $20
Misc other crap: ~$50
Not even enough left over for these shoes from Nine West that are Gucci knock offs.
Well, thanks anyway Uncle Sam. I will try to waste my money on American goods next time and thanks for getting me out of a jam this time.
Two weeks ago I got a welcomed gift from Uncle Sam. 600 dollars directly deposited into my bank account. Isn't just like a relative sneak money in your pocket and whisper in your ear spend it on something crazy?
Actually, I was expecting the money and had dreamed about what I was going to do with it. I had my eye on a pair of black Chie Mihara peep toe pumps on sale for 300 dollars. Or a brief case like Dr. L, an 83 year old professor emeritus, who carries around a beat up leather bag his wife gave him 40 years ago. Maybe I would buy new handle bars for my bike. Oh the possibilities.
But, alas, Harvard managed to suck those dreams away.
Dissertation printing fee: $233.94
Dissertation processing fee: $125
Gardisil vaccination not covered by my health insurance: $154
Grad Student council fee: $20
Misc other crap: ~$50
Not even enough left over for these shoes from Nine West that are Gucci knock offs.
Well, thanks anyway Uncle Sam. I will try to waste my money on American goods next time and thanks for getting me out of a jam this time.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The cookie bandit strikes
My mouth is dry and I open and close my mouth as if to taste the dryness. My room is very dark. I realize that I am hugging something: a plastic tub of Trader Joe's Swiss Almond Crunch cookies. Clearly, I am a little dissoriented as I reach for my alarm clock. The green numbers read 3:24am.
I stare at the clock and kind of wonder how I had gotten home, and how was it possible that 2 French 75's manage to put in a position in which I wake up in my bed with a stranger, albeit a tub of cookies, in my bed.
Since defending, I have ended almost every night with either a beer or a glass of wine. It is not that I am an alcoholoic, it is just that now I felt like there was nothing keeping me from not drinking every night. My lab is moving and the sheer chaos that is occuring everyday is maddening. Part of me is extremely irritated that things or so disorgaized. The other part of me is irritated that I am doing scut work for a man I am currently not in the best of terms.
In typical fashion, I sent out a plea for escape. Perhaps happy hour? Good thing I have friends that are happy to oblige in happy our. On Thursday, as I watched other members of my lab freeze their fingers off on the dry ice trying to read the minute labeling left 5 years ago from non english speaking postdocs, I snuck out of the lab at 4:30pm. I met A and R at Brassierie Jo's. Massachussetts does not allow the sale of alcohol at a discounted price, but to make up for it bars sell appetizers cheaply during normal happy hour hours. I was excited when I walked into the bar and I recognized the bartender. He was an older gentleman, the kind of person who takes bartending seriously. He dresses up, calls you madam or miss, and is impeccable about his manners.
A and I sat at one end of the bar, and I immediately shouted the bartender's name. He had no idea who I was, but was incredibly polite and offered up some small talk. I asked him for some band-aids, because I was wearing ridiculous roman sandals (which ET#2 abhors). For the first 10 minutes our lovely bartender went all around the kitchen and hotel front desk looking for my bandaids. How nice.
Anyway R soon joined us, and we proceeded to order French 75s. It is a nice summery cocktail and it came in a pretty frosted martini glass. What harm could a lemony drink cause. We ordered a number of sandwiches, fries, etc.. We chatted. We ate. We drank. At around 6:45pm we left the bar.
Now, I thought having been drinking so much this past month that I would have built up a tolerance for the EtOH. Not so. At precisely, the moment that I thought it would be a great idea to go in Sephora and test out perfumes, I should have realized I was hammered. I think I might have hugged a sales lady who thought I did not need eye cream. She said it is something you need in your thirties. Flattery will get you everywhere.
Then we decided we needed sweets. We are in Trader Joe's and I purchase a tub of Swiss Almond Crunch cookies. The three of us dig into them. Delicious. But what is a delicious cookie if you can't share them. We see a girl behind us, and for some reason we think it is appropriate to give her cookies. I think we were rewarding her for her cute shoes. I am not sure. She did take some. That action emboldened us.
I then proceeded to offer cookies to people all along Boylston Street. There were two men in business suits eating their dinner peacefully at Atlantic Fish. "I think your meal would be better with cookies, " I said. One of the men agreed and took a handful.
I offered cookies to hipsters, yuppies, and tourists. Only the tourists seemed skeptical. "Those city folks might try to taint cookies with drugs," they might have thought.
We went into the Globe, because once you are drunk more salty foods are needed. I offered cookies to our waiter, a twenty something himbo. It might have been the cocktail goggles but I could have sworn he was flirting with me. He took a cookie, but still managed to mess up our order.
Much is fuzzy after that. All I know is that I woke up with a practically empty tub of cookies, a sign of successful cookie banditing.
I stare at the clock and kind of wonder how I had gotten home, and how was it possible that 2 French 75's manage to put in a position in which I wake up in my bed with a stranger, albeit a tub of cookies, in my bed.
Since defending, I have ended almost every night with either a beer or a glass of wine. It is not that I am an alcoholoic, it is just that now I felt like there was nothing keeping me from not drinking every night. My lab is moving and the sheer chaos that is occuring everyday is maddening. Part of me is extremely irritated that things or so disorgaized. The other part of me is irritated that I am doing scut work for a man I am currently not in the best of terms.
In typical fashion, I sent out a plea for escape. Perhaps happy hour? Good thing I have friends that are happy to oblige in happy our. On Thursday, as I watched other members of my lab freeze their fingers off on the dry ice trying to read the minute labeling left 5 years ago from non english speaking postdocs, I snuck out of the lab at 4:30pm. I met A and R at Brassierie Jo's. Massachussetts does not allow the sale of alcohol at a discounted price, but to make up for it bars sell appetizers cheaply during normal happy hour hours. I was excited when I walked into the bar and I recognized the bartender. He was an older gentleman, the kind of person who takes bartending seriously. He dresses up, calls you madam or miss, and is impeccable about his manners.
A and I sat at one end of the bar, and I immediately shouted the bartender's name. He had no idea who I was, but was incredibly polite and offered up some small talk. I asked him for some band-aids, because I was wearing ridiculous roman sandals (which ET#2 abhors). For the first 10 minutes our lovely bartender went all around the kitchen and hotel front desk looking for my bandaids. How nice.
Anyway R soon joined us, and we proceeded to order French 75s. It is a nice summery cocktail and it came in a pretty frosted martini glass. What harm could a lemony drink cause. We ordered a number of sandwiches, fries, etc.. We chatted. We ate. We drank. At around 6:45pm we left the bar.
Now, I thought having been drinking so much this past month that I would have built up a tolerance for the EtOH. Not so. At precisely, the moment that I thought it would be a great idea to go in Sephora and test out perfumes, I should have realized I was hammered. I think I might have hugged a sales lady who thought I did not need eye cream. She said it is something you need in your thirties. Flattery will get you everywhere.
Then we decided we needed sweets. We are in Trader Joe's and I purchase a tub of Swiss Almond Crunch cookies. The three of us dig into them. Delicious. But what is a delicious cookie if you can't share them. We see a girl behind us, and for some reason we think it is appropriate to give her cookies. I think we were rewarding her for her cute shoes. I am not sure. She did take some. That action emboldened us.
I then proceeded to offer cookies to people all along Boylston Street. There were two men in business suits eating their dinner peacefully at Atlantic Fish. "I think your meal would be better with cookies, " I said. One of the men agreed and took a handful.
I offered cookies to hipsters, yuppies, and tourists. Only the tourists seemed skeptical. "Those city folks might try to taint cookies with drugs," they might have thought.
We went into the Globe, because once you are drunk more salty foods are needed. I offered cookies to our waiter, a twenty something himbo. It might have been the cocktail goggles but I could have sworn he was flirting with me. He took a cookie, but still managed to mess up our order.
Much is fuzzy after that. All I know is that I woke up with a practically empty tub of cookies, a sign of successful cookie banditing.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Why my breakfast made me sad
I'll admit that I have been in sort of a self pity funk. I defended my Ph.D. and my lab is moving to Texas. And like at the end of all eras in my life, instead of rejoicing, I waste my time reflecting, self flagulating, worrying, and over analyzing my life. Instead of doing a little jig on the fact that I am finally done being a student (after 23 years including kindergarten), I spend a lot of time thinking about my single status. I get the idea that I single out of choice, but can't rid myslef of those romantic notions that my life would be a million times better with a good guy by my side. Maybe some of this is brought on by the high alcohol consumption as of late, or maybe it is all of a sudden I have way too much time on my hands.
I made a list of all the things that would be better if I were a double not a single. My room would be neater, I would shower more regularly, I'd have a reason to reactivate text messaging on my phone, I'd eat better, I'd be forced to be less self involved, I'd have someone to talk to incessantly on my cell phone etc..
I am eating breakfast this morning and I come across this list. My breakfast consists of a fried egg, the last matzoh, a mug of tea, a glass of milk, and half a bag of Trader Joe's cheese puffs. See - I thought, I'd eat something more conventional if someone was with me. But then I realized, I could eat something conventional now without anyone convincing me it would be a good idea. I was just too lazy to make the changes in my life myself. So my breakfast has sent me a down a shame spiral from my self pity funk. Sigh. Is there no end to this nonsense?
I made a list of all the things that would be better if I were a double not a single. My room would be neater, I would shower more regularly, I'd have a reason to reactivate text messaging on my phone, I'd eat better, I'd be forced to be less self involved, I'd have someone to talk to incessantly on my cell phone etc..
I am eating breakfast this morning and I come across this list. My breakfast consists of a fried egg, the last matzoh, a mug of tea, a glass of milk, and half a bag of Trader Joe's cheese puffs. See - I thought, I'd eat something more conventional if someone was with me. But then I realized, I could eat something conventional now without anyone convincing me it would be a good idea. I was just too lazy to make the changes in my life myself. So my breakfast has sent me a down a shame spiral from my self pity funk. Sigh. Is there no end to this nonsense?
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
40 years and counting
Sunday was my parent's 40th wedding anniversary. I had forgotten completely, until my sister called me to remind me. My parents are not people who make a big fuss about their anniversary. As a matter of fact, I still to this day do not know how my parents met and trust me my sister have tried. We've plied my parents, relatives, and their friends with copious amounts of liquor with no results. When we were younger we thought my parents were spies. In my teen years, we thought my mom got knocked up by accident. All theories were crushed when one summer my parents left me and my sister in California with all the keys to the safety deposit box.
Because I am a brat, I left the following message on their answering machine. "Hola mis padres. ET#1 here. Happy Anniversary. I hope you are doing something special today, but I am sure you are just at church. What are you going to do with no Todai around? Well, at least try to get along today. I love you both ... equally as much."
(Todai is an all you can eat buffet my dad loves because 1) he can get the senior discount 2) it is sushi and other random asian foods. My mom is not a fan, but tolerates it.)
According to my sister, my parents spent the afternoon at their korean church. But instead of going out, they spent the rest of the day home. They cracked open a bottle of wine and grilled kalbi out on our porch.
3000 miles away, I imagine my dad starting the fire. My mom yelling at him that the fire is too high. Then the two of the crowding over the barbecue telling each other to move all the meat around properly. My mom gets smoke in her eyes so my dad yells at her to just sit down as he finishes grilling the meat. My mom runs into the kitchen to get a london broil because the fire is too good to waste. And the two of them eating outside with their wine laughing about something that happened at church or their favorite korean drama. I imagine that it got dark, but the two of them lingered outside until it was too cold for them to tolerate.
In my 32 years of knowing them, I never witnessed any romantic moments between the two. Hell, I have never seen sit on the same couch. The nicest thing my dad ever said about my mom was "You know, ET#1, you are lucky. Your mom is okay looking. When your boyfriends meet her, they know you will not be ugly in the future." Yet, despite all of their lack of romance, I know there has always been love (that is minus 1985-1988, but that is a story for another day).
Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Here's to 40 more years of insanity.
Because I am a brat, I left the following message on their answering machine. "Hola mis padres. ET#1 here. Happy Anniversary. I hope you are doing something special today, but I am sure you are just at church. What are you going to do with no Todai around? Well, at least try to get along today. I love you both ... equally as much."
(Todai is an all you can eat buffet my dad loves because 1) he can get the senior discount 2) it is sushi and other random asian foods. My mom is not a fan, but tolerates it.)
According to my sister, my parents spent the afternoon at their korean church. But instead of going out, they spent the rest of the day home. They cracked open a bottle of wine and grilled kalbi out on our porch.
3000 miles away, I imagine my dad starting the fire. My mom yelling at him that the fire is too high. Then the two of the crowding over the barbecue telling each other to move all the meat around properly. My mom gets smoke in her eyes so my dad yells at her to just sit down as he finishes grilling the meat. My mom runs into the kitchen to get a london broil because the fire is too good to waste. And the two of them eating outside with their wine laughing about something that happened at church or their favorite korean drama. I imagine that it got dark, but the two of them lingered outside until it was too cold for them to tolerate.
In my 32 years of knowing them, I never witnessed any romantic moments between the two. Hell, I have never seen sit on the same couch. The nicest thing my dad ever said about my mom was "You know, ET#1, you are lucky. Your mom is okay looking. When your boyfriends meet her, they know you will not be ugly in the future." Yet, despite all of their lack of romance, I know there has always been love (that is minus 1985-1988, but that is a story for another day).
Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Here's to 40 more years of insanity.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Another year older...
Here is a link to some photos from Saturday night's dinner and karaoke. It was so much fun that I actually stayed out past 2 am! Too bad I lost my voice the next day. I guess I am getting too old to party hard.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
This Just Seems Wrong
I came across this today and I can't believe that anyone would be willing to pay that much for a pair of plastic shoes. I remember when jellies were popular in the early 80's and I begged, BEGGED my mom to buy me a pair in the 4th grade. Instead of the pearly pink kind that I wanted, I ended up with opaque white ones that were (of course) on sale for about $5. They were, in retrospect, far cooler than the ones that everyone else was wearing out on the playground. It turns out that Marc Jacobs also has some out on the market that are about the same price as the Givenchy ones, but at least the MJ ones are cute...
Monday, April 21, 2008
Happy B-Day, Evil Twin #2
Dear Evil Twin #2,Happy Birthday. Hope you recovered from whatever debauchery occurred Saturday night.
Love,
ET#1
PS Power point is perhaps not the best art medium, but it is the only one I can manage.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I am smarter than you....
Partial record of a phone conversation on Saturday.
My sister: Hey your niece wants to talk to you. (She hands over her cell phone.)
Me: Hello? Hello, N?
My Niece: Hewo, Emo (that is Aunt in Korean). (In the background, I hear my mother saying "N, say 'congratualtions' say 'congratulations.') Congwatuwations, Emo.
Me: Thank you, N. That is very nice of you to say.
My Niece: Why am I saywing "congwatuwations?" (Your, Emo, is now a doctor, I hear my Mom yell.) You awre a dowctor, Emo? My daddy and his fwiends awre dwoctors.
Me: I am a different kind of doctor. I do not help people. I am like your teacher. Sometimes teachers are called doctor too.
My Niece: No.
Me: Yes.
My Niece: You are not a doctor like my Daddy.
Me: Correct. My doctorate just means that I am smarter than you. Ow! (My sister just hit me.)
My sister: Hey your niece wants to talk to you. (She hands over her cell phone.)
Me: Hello? Hello, N?
My Niece: Hewo, Emo (that is Aunt in Korean). (In the background, I hear my mother saying "N, say 'congratualtions' say 'congratulations.') Congwatuwations, Emo.
Me: Thank you, N. That is very nice of you to say.
My Niece: Why am I saywing "congwatuwations?" (Your, Emo, is now a doctor, I hear my Mom yell.) You awre a dowctor, Emo? My daddy and his fwiends awre dwoctors.
Me: I am a different kind of doctor. I do not help people. I am like your teacher. Sometimes teachers are called doctor too.
My Niece: No.
Me: Yes.
My Niece: You are not a doctor like my Daddy.
Me: Correct. My doctorate just means that I am smarter than you. Ow! (My sister just hit me.)
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
A great day
Some days are good, some days are bad and some are simply great. Today was a great day.
Yes, today was my birthday and by default a god given national holiday, but it was more than that. Normally, I week to a month before my birthday I like to send out reminders. "Don't forget about my special day April 2nd," the emails would read. This year, I decided to play it a little low key this year. Not because I dislike being 32, and not because I was trying to be coy. I was trying to be low key because quite frankly, I am freaking out about the fact that I am defending in less than 10 days.
6 am - Wake up. Eat Frosted mini-wheats. Go for a wog. Weather is a perfect 40-50 degrees, and sunny. Have a very hot shower, then crawl into bed.
9 am - Watch host chat on "Live with Regis and Kelly."
9:15 am - Realize that I am never going to win a free vacation to Aruba from them.
10 am - Get a singing voice mail from my sister. Yes, I am obnoxious, but I like the "Happy Birthday" song. As I am listening, I get a message from the all elusive Manolo. Hugs and kisses to you too, Baby.
10:15 am - Go online and read all my messages. I love it when my mailbox is NOT empty. You see unlike you all who have real jobs and emails have become an unbearable burden, I don't have that problem. Continue to goof off online.
11:45 am - Finally, leave house and saunter to school. When I walk in to the lab V shouts Happy Birthday.
12:45 pm - Order a bacon burger from the Mission. It is made exactly right. Brioche bun is grilled and crispy on one side. Patty is a perfectly cooked medium and I get 5 strips of smoked applewood bacon instead of the normal 4. Also, came back with a good story. As I went to pay for my burger I saw three construction guys drinking SoCo and whiskey.
1:45 pm - Almost snarf the water in my mouth when I see incriminating photo sent to me by A.
I will skip afternoon activities because some of it involved me freaking out about my work and having an awkward conversation with my advisor.
5 pm - Sent off emails to people who may want to attend my defense.
6:30 pm - Leave lab with V. Debate night time activities. Decide to go to Intramural Softball game.
6:45 pm - Listen to more singing messages on my home number. Almost cry from laughter. Parents apparently have decided to play nice this year and did a joint message. (Some years they call separately and secretly, in a weird competitive need to be the better parent.)
8:20 pm - Am leaving apt. for the game which starts at 9:30pm. Run into my landlord. Tell him that I am defending and that I might want to throw a party at my apartment. Wanted to know if that would be okay. "Of course," he said. "Actually, why don't you have it at our place? We can get it catered and everything. Invite all your friends. Oh we would be so happy to do it." Then as we walked outside together, he said " You know I ran into CA (someone I went to high school with) and I told her what an amazing person you are. Oh and she say hi." I almost started crying right there. (And FYI, I cannot in good conscience make my elderly landlords throw me a party, but still...)
9:10 pm - I have been waiting for the bus for about half an hour. I am freezing. I see a guy with a bunch of Trader Joe bags. He definitely has had enough too. He tried to wave down a cab. I ask him if he wants to split one and he say yes. He did not realize that there was a cab stand across the street. He is so grateful, that he insists on paying the whole fare and does not take my money.
9:30 pm - Playing softball with the Dudley team. We have three good players. The undergrads we are playing are a bunch of very muscular boys, who actually know the rules of the game. We do not, nor do we have a captain. But we have spirit!
10:15 pm - I pitch for our team. We are losing 23-1 so it really does not matter. One of the boys send a smashing grounder into my ankle. Am about to cry because it hurts so much, but get to throw his ass out on First. Get high fives from the opposing team. Feeling like a huge studdette.
11:20 pm - Get home and get more emails. Yay! Some of these are from old profs, who now want to come to my defense. Am feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Start writing blog entry so every can share in my happy mood.
Thank you everyone who sent me lovely emails and phone messages, I have not stopped smiling all day. Thank you everyone who had no idea it was my birthday because you are awesome. And thank you all you random people who were just really nice to me today for no good reason.
Sorry I am so sappy, but it is still my day darn it. At least for another 6 minutes.
Yes, today was my birthday and by default a god given national holiday, but it was more than that. Normally, I week to a month before my birthday I like to send out reminders. "Don't forget about my special day April 2nd," the emails would read. This year, I decided to play it a little low key this year. Not because I dislike being 32, and not because I was trying to be coy. I was trying to be low key because quite frankly, I am freaking out about the fact that I am defending in less than 10 days.
6 am - Wake up. Eat Frosted mini-wheats. Go for a wog. Weather is a perfect 40-50 degrees, and sunny. Have a very hot shower, then crawl into bed.
9 am - Watch host chat on "Live with Regis and Kelly."
9:15 am - Realize that I am never going to win a free vacation to Aruba from them.
10 am - Get a singing voice mail from my sister. Yes, I am obnoxious, but I like the "Happy Birthday" song. As I am listening, I get a message from the all elusive Manolo. Hugs and kisses to you too, Baby.
10:15 am - Go online and read all my messages. I love it when my mailbox is NOT empty. You see unlike you all who have real jobs and emails have become an unbearable burden, I don't have that problem. Continue to goof off online.
11:45 am - Finally, leave house and saunter to school. When I walk in to the lab V shouts Happy Birthday.
12:45 pm - Order a bacon burger from the Mission. It is made exactly right. Brioche bun is grilled and crispy on one side. Patty is a perfectly cooked medium and I get 5 strips of smoked applewood bacon instead of the normal 4. Also, came back with a good story. As I went to pay for my burger I saw three construction guys drinking SoCo and whiskey.
1:45 pm - Almost snarf the water in my mouth when I see incriminating photo sent to me by A.
I will skip afternoon activities because some of it involved me freaking out about my work and having an awkward conversation with my advisor.
5 pm - Sent off emails to people who may want to attend my defense.
6:30 pm - Leave lab with V. Debate night time activities. Decide to go to Intramural Softball game.
6:45 pm - Listen to more singing messages on my home number. Almost cry from laughter. Parents apparently have decided to play nice this year and did a joint message. (Some years they call separately and secretly, in a weird competitive need to be the better parent.)
8:20 pm - Am leaving apt. for the game which starts at 9:30pm. Run into my landlord. Tell him that I am defending and that I might want to throw a party at my apartment. Wanted to know if that would be okay. "Of course," he said. "Actually, why don't you have it at our place? We can get it catered and everything. Invite all your friends. Oh we would be so happy to do it." Then as we walked outside together, he said " You know I ran into CA (someone I went to high school with) and I told her what an amazing person you are. Oh and she say hi." I almost started crying right there. (And FYI, I cannot in good conscience make my elderly landlords throw me a party, but still...)
9:10 pm - I have been waiting for the bus for about half an hour. I am freezing. I see a guy with a bunch of Trader Joe bags. He definitely has had enough too. He tried to wave down a cab. I ask him if he wants to split one and he say yes. He did not realize that there was a cab stand across the street. He is so grateful, that he insists on paying the whole fare and does not take my money.
9:30 pm - Playing softball with the Dudley team. We have three good players. The undergrads we are playing are a bunch of very muscular boys, who actually know the rules of the game. We do not, nor do we have a captain. But we have spirit!
10:15 pm - I pitch for our team. We are losing 23-1 so it really does not matter. One of the boys send a smashing grounder into my ankle. Am about to cry because it hurts so much, but get to throw his ass out on First. Get high fives from the opposing team. Feeling like a huge studdette.
11:20 pm - Get home and get more emails. Yay! Some of these are from old profs, who now want to come to my defense. Am feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Start writing blog entry so every can share in my happy mood.
Thank you everyone who sent me lovely emails and phone messages, I have not stopped smiling all day. Thank you everyone who had no idea it was my birthday because you are awesome. And thank you all you random people who were just really nice to me today for no good reason.
Sorry I am so sappy, but it is still my day darn it. At least for another 6 minutes.
Happy Birthday!!
Today is Evil Twin #1's birthday. She is 29 years young, with 3 years of experience! I think it would make her day if we all called her and sang Happy Birthday on her voicemail...
Monday, March 24, 2008
Google vanity
Why am I reading People.com when I have so much work left to do? Who knows.
Anyway this story made me laugh. John Mayer denies Googling himself every day. Why? I don't do it everyday, but I do it quite often. It is a favorite activity of mine. I, also, enjoy the semi-pornographic highly airbrushed pictures of a beauty queen that shares my name.
Is that really a bad thing to check on oneself often?
Anyway this story made me laugh. John Mayer denies Googling himself every day. Why? I don't do it everyday, but I do it quite often. It is a favorite activity of mine. I, also, enjoy the semi-pornographic highly airbrushed pictures of a beauty queen that shares my name.
Is that really a bad thing to check on oneself often?
Monday, March 17, 2008
Why I hate the Fed
When I am stressed, I am prone to rant and rave a lot. More so than usual. For example, Evil Twin #2, S, B, and I had dinner the other night and I went off on yuppie soccer moms who believe immunizing their children leads to autism. "I hope all their children die whooping cough," I said.
My rant of the day is on the Federal Reserve. I, as it soon will become apparent, did terribly in MacroEconomics. In my naivite, I believed the Fed was an independent organization. I believed that they looked at the economy as a whole and not simply on the stock market as their only indicies.
I understand that they have no choice to act the way they have as of late. Because of the stranglehold Wall Street has on them, they have no choice to lower interest rates and pump so much money into the system. But I am still bitter.
It is like that stupid cricket and ant fable. The diligent ants have to take care of this retarded dancing cricket, because he was too stupid to store any food. In a way you wish, the ants just let it die in the snow.
I am a freakin' ant. I have saved whatever I could. I never go into debt, I cannot handle. I have always had a savings account, investing in our rapidly devaluating dollar. And truly the only thing I get for it is to be punished for being responsible.
Joe Lewis bitches about the Bear Stearns/JP Morgan deal. Boohoo, you lost over a billion dollars, but you have been dancing your ass off all this time while others have been diligent. You encouraged your dumbass company to take on high risk debt even when everyone knew what would happen. I wished there was a true run on it. Your absolute ruin may teach others a lesson.
But back to the big picture, Fed, you suck. You want to control inflation, but you keep on lowering interest rates. You want Americans to save more money, but you lower interest rates. You are Wall Street's bitch. Every time traders start any modest selloff or an investment bank, that is not insured, crashes , you freakout, bend over, and give in to whatever they want.
Fine. I am going to closeout my Orange account buy a TV that works, then I am going to buy those Chie Mihara peep toe pumps I have been coveting. Then whatever is leftover is going into Indian gaming and beer. I want to be a cricket too.
My rant of the day is on the Federal Reserve. I, as it soon will become apparent, did terribly in MacroEconomics. In my naivite, I believed the Fed was an independent organization. I believed that they looked at the economy as a whole and not simply on the stock market as their only indicies.
I understand that they have no choice to act the way they have as of late. Because of the stranglehold Wall Street has on them, they have no choice to lower interest rates and pump so much money into the system. But I am still bitter.
It is like that stupid cricket and ant fable. The diligent ants have to take care of this retarded dancing cricket, because he was too stupid to store any food. In a way you wish, the ants just let it die in the snow.
I am a freakin' ant. I have saved whatever I could. I never go into debt, I cannot handle. I have always had a savings account, investing in our rapidly devaluating dollar. And truly the only thing I get for it is to be punished for being responsible.
Joe Lewis bitches about the Bear Stearns/JP Morgan deal. Boohoo, you lost over a billion dollars, but you have been dancing your ass off all this time while others have been diligent. You encouraged your dumbass company to take on high risk debt even when everyone knew what would happen. I wished there was a true run on it. Your absolute ruin may teach others a lesson.
But back to the big picture, Fed, you suck. You want to control inflation, but you keep on lowering interest rates. You want Americans to save more money, but you lower interest rates. You are Wall Street's bitch. Every time traders start any modest selloff or an investment bank, that is not insured, crashes , you freakout, bend over, and give in to whatever they want.
Fine. I am going to closeout my Orange account buy a TV that works, then I am going to buy those Chie Mihara peep toe pumps I have been coveting. Then whatever is leftover is going into Indian gaming and beer. I want to be a cricket too.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Wall of shame
When I was in high school, the seniors had a bulletin board in the mailroom. From January to May it was transformed to the Great Wall of Shame. Students would tack up their rejection letters from colleges. Special props were given to personalized rejections, extra harsh rejections, and rejections from schools considered "beneath us."
If only I had a board for the job search thing. Oh wait. I can just make my own, here.
Dear Evil Twin #1,
Thank you for the follow up. I have received one letter from your
advisor, who is very positive. Unfortunately, my lab has lately become
oversubscribed, and I am not able to offer you a postdoctoral position. I
was forced to choose among several highly qualified individuals, and please
know that this does not reflect a poor assessment of your application.
I wish you the best of luck with your studies.
Regards,
Professor that is only 4 years older than me
If only I had a board for the job search thing. Oh wait. I can just make my own, here.
Dear Evil Twin #1,
Thank you for the follow up. I have received one letter from your
advisor, who is very positive. Unfortunately, my lab has lately become
oversubscribed, and I am not able to offer you a postdoctoral position. I
was forced to choose among several highly qualified individuals, and please
know that this does not reflect a poor assessment of your application.
I wish you the best of luck with your studies.
Regards,
Professor that is only 4 years older than me
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Taking the Plunge (or not)
My apartment is pre-war and one of the reasons I fell in love with it is because it still has all of its original architectural details. Except in the bathroom. There is a mish mash of "subway tiles" (some original and some not) and some pretty hideous linoleum on the floor.
I am fairly certain that I am going to do with most the bathroom -- subway tiles on the walls almost up to the ceiling, and marble hex tiles with a dark gray marble border for the floor. A console sink (because the space is too narrow for anything else, and I am not a fan of the pedestal sink), sticking with but reglazing my existing tub (I would love to get rid of it and put in one of those fancy showers, but I have to be practical and think about resale), and a light shade of blue (almost aqua) for the ceiling to break up all that white. The picture on the left gives you the general idea. I think ET#1 will be happy to know that I am scheduled to have all of this work done in April. I should have a spiffy new bathroom by May!
I am fairly certain that I am going to do with most the bathroom -- subway tiles on the walls almost up to the ceiling, and marble hex tiles with a dark gray marble border for the floor. A console sink (because the space is too narrow for anything else, and I am not a fan of the pedestal sink), sticking with but reglazing my existing tub (I would love to get rid of it and put in one of those fancy showers, but I have to be practical and think about resale), and a light shade of blue (almost aqua) for the ceiling to break up all that white. The picture on the left gives you the general idea. I think ET#1 will be happy to know that I am scheduled to have all of this work done in April. I should have a spiffy new bathroom by May!I am still trying to figure out what shelves and shower containers I'm going to use. I have a propensity to collect an insane amount of toiletries -- shampoo, conditioner, leave in conditioner, face scrub, body scrubs and all variations of moisturizers and bath gels. It's a disease and I have to stop. In my head, my new bathroom will be a sparkling oasis. However, realizing this dream will involve me hiring a cleaning lady and squeezing as much storage space into said bathroom as possible.
As ET#1 likes to point out, my toilet is not so cooperative. And I am pretty sure that I am wasting hundreds of gallons of water a week because of the constant drip of my faucet and my tempermental toilet where the water runs constantly. On to the most imporant part of my bathroom redo. I am torn between two toilets:
(i) a Toto toilet (because I fell in love with this brand of toilets while traveling in Japan and they are supposed to be the best -- yes, it is possible to fall in love with a toilet) with "Double Cyclone flushing technology"
or
(ii) an American Standard Champion toilet (because of their slogan "declaring a plunger free world" and the video on their website where they flush 15 golfballs without any problems). 
If "capacity" wasn't an issue, then I would probably get the Kohler Archer toilet because I think it is pretty. 
But, for once, I will go for function over form and go with either the Toto or the Champion, both of which claim to have the "largest trapways available on the market". In the battle of the toilets, which do you prefer -- Japan or USA?
But, for once, I will go for function over form and go with either the Toto or the Champion, both of which claim to have the "largest trapways available on the market". In the battle of the toilets, which do you prefer -- Japan or USA? Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Kitchen Conundrum
I was lucky enough to buy my apartment in "el barrio" about 15 months ago. The only reason I was able to buy it is because it is located in "el barrio" and because it needed some major renovations. I've been "redesigning" my kitchen and bathroom since I first saw the place and have decided that it is time for me to actually start renovating, instead of just accumulating design magazines and making frequent visits to home depot and other home improvement stores.
The kitchen is something that I daydream about all the time. That's my "dream kitchen" on the right (although I'm planning on using marble for the counters). Case in point, I am at work and daydreaming about it. Maybe some day I will have a Viking or Wolf range. For now, I am going to hold on to the 1950s enamel stove that came with my apartment. It's got a warming oven and is just too cool for school. The only downside is that whenever I have to bake anything I have to ask the BF if he will light the oven for me. It's scary, but I'm going to keep my retro-stove and maybe one day I'll be able to light it myself. I've decided to "go green" and replace the same nasty linoleum patterned floor that is in the kitchen with cork. Cork is cushy so if I drop things, they won't break. And it's easier on both the environment (it's a renewable resource!) and on your joints (it's cushy!). 
My kitchen, like most New York City kitchens, is not so big. It's a very narrow galley kitchen and to make things even more complicated, one side of the kitchen is too shallow to have standard depth base cabinets. This has made "redesigning" my kitchen
more complicated than I expected. This limits the placement of my base cabinets to one side of the kitchen and shifting the refrigerator to the opposite wall if I want to have a dishwasher (YES!!) and even a single drawer. As Evil had pointed out to me a while back, there aren't that many counter depth refrigerators out there. I have 3 viable somewhat affordable options: (i) a 10 cubic foot LG refrigerator that is 24"x24"x68" (shown on the left), (ii) a 13 cubic foot European refrigerator that is 24" x 24" x 78" (shown on the right), (iii) a 17.3 cubic foot Fisher and Paykel refrigerator that is 27" x 31" x 67" (shown at the very bottom of this post). The LG seems a little too small; the Fagor is a little too tall, and the Fisher and Paykel is a little too wide and would stick out by 3 inches. I am leaning towards the Fagor, but then I'd have to use a step stool to get to items on the top shelf. Should I just go for one of the other models? I can't decide...
Am not dead....yet
Have not posted in a while because I am freaking out about the slew of life decisions that need to get made. Will resume posting when I calm down.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Update
My interactions with a previously mentioned attorney are deterioting fast. This attorney is mischaracterizing telephone conversations that we have had in emails that (s)he sends not only to the senior attorneys at my firm but also to his/her clients and my clients as well. This attorney LOVES sending emails to "the entire working group" rather than just to the attorneys, which is the standard practice. However, (s)he seems to be unable to find the "reply all" button when I "reply to all" and ask questions trying to figure out what exactly (s)he wants since her emails are poorly written and confusing. We have been going in circles over the interpretation of a statute and it appears as though we are at an impasse.Here's an excerpt of a phone call we had at the end of the business day on Friday (which was actually only mid-day for me since I billed 16 hours on Friday...).
My phone rings; I answer:
ET#2: [ET#2]
CA: [No hello, no how are you, no end of the work week banter] I've gone over this with you before. I will not allow you to have that language in the [document].
ET#2: Hello, CA. What language are you referring to?
CA: [quotes language she is upset about]
ET#2: CA, I deleted that language in the last redraft.
CA: [technical and boring legalese arguments that no one needs to read about here]
ET#2: [I explain my position and tell CA that she is misquoting the statute which I have in front of me and I start to read it]
CA: [cutting me off] I don't NEED YOU to read ME the statue. I TEACH THIS STUFF.... You haven't been in practice as LONG as I have...
ET#2: [I am this close to saying, It's not my fault that you graduated from law school the year I was born and that you are illiterate. Instead I say] CA, if you READ the plain language of the statute, it doesn't say what you are saying...
This sort of back and forth goes on for about 10 more minutes. This was the first time that I have ever raised my voice at another attorney. At one point CA said that in all of the transactions that (s)he had done, (s)he had never seen it done this way. I said that I see them all the time [not to toon my own horn, but it is common knowledge within the industry that my firm is THE firm to go to for these sorts of transactions].
CA then said [in a tone of voice that was dripping with sarcasm] "I guess your firm is "cutting edge" and sees these all the time and that's why you're there."
My reply, "Yes, and I think that we can agree that we are going around in circles on this and that we just disagree." CA then said that (s)he had to leave for Shabbos and that we'd pick this up on Monday and then proceeded to HANG UP ON ME. Never in my admittedly short career (technically I think I'm a 5th year) has another attorney been so rude to me. Actually, I don't think that I have ever interacted with anyone as unprofessional as CA (with the exception of one of my bosses back in college that sexually harrassed me, but that's another story). When is it ever acceptable to hang up on someone in a business setting, especially when you are supposed to be trying to make the deal HAPPEN?
I am at my wit's end. I see CA's number on my caller ID and I start to get angry before I even lift the receiver. But, I refuse to sink to her level. I don't want other people saying that "ET#2 is a deal killer". I'm a problem solver.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Ala Moana, Haiku Gardens, and the Dole Pineapple Plantation
Here are some photos of our tropical vacation:
More or less...
Evil brought it to my attention that it's been a while since I have posted. The reason for this? In addition to travelling to a tropical island paradise for a wedding, I have been buried in work lately. Every time I think I am almost caught up, something happens and I am once again trapped under a mountain of paper work, endless conference calls, and painfully long meetings. I had a 13 hour meeting at a client's office on Tuesday. THIRTEEN hours!! The junior associate representing the other side and I were in heated negotiations and completely lost track of time -- it was 10:30 pm when we realized that there was no one left in the office (the clients had left around 6:00, the senior partners around 7:00, leaving us behind to draft the damn documents) who could order dinner. Once I realized that it had been 10 hours since my last meal, I was suddenly ravenous and no longer able to concentrate on the piles of contracts in front of me. A person can only negotiate, draft and review documents for so long before losing it. Much of what we wrote at 10:45 made little sense the next morning. We ended up leaving my client's office at 11:00. It is 2 days since that meeting and I am still working out the kinks on these damn documents. But the end is in sight. I can start to catch up on all the work that I was supposed to be doing this week this weekend... Oh wait, I have a conference for work to go to all day on Saturday. Damn. Whatever happened to the weekend being a time to rest?
I just got off a 30 minute phone call for a different transaction. What is so surprising to me is that this 30 minute call was several orders of magnitude MORE painful than the 3 days of negotiating and drafting on an empty stomach that I described above. I am wishing that there was a formula for billing my time whereby the more painful an assignment, the more expensive it is (e.g., 30 minute call with incredibly condescending attorney = 10 days of drafting at client's offices). I am going to do a lot of "rounding up" when I input my time for that call.
Too nerdy
It was chilly on Wednesday night. The wind was whipping around Huntington Ave.. I decided to get out of the lab to do some paperwork. I took the 66 bus up to Allston for some spicy Korean seafood noodle soup.
As I unwrapped myself from my scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and fleece vest I nodded to the waitress held up my finger indicating I would be dining alone that night. She spoke to me in Korean, and when I responded in English I could see the wheels clicking in her head. "That girl is Chinese."
I take out a stack of scientific journal articles I need to read. My soup comes out pretty quickly so it is a delicate balance of slurping and reading. Little red splashes landed all over my papers.
I was half way through my meal when I saw a girl wave. I waved back, but without my glasses I had no idea who she was. Crap. It was one of my former students. She walked over to my table with a boy. She introduced me to her boyfriend. And then she said, "Oh are you reading papers?"
"Ummm...Yes," I replied.
"Guess there is a lot of work in grad school," she said. I saw a glint of pity in her eye. "So what did you order?
"Ummm....noodle soup." I replied.
The waitress asks if my former student and her date want to sit at the table next to me.
"No, I think we will sit there," she said while pointing to a table across the room. "Right?[she says in my direction] you seem to have a lot of reading to do."
"Ummm...yeah, I got to finish this stuff, " I lied. "Well enjoy your dinner and ...." I could not think of a good way to end the conversation so I blurted out, "....don't forget there is a Lunar Eclipse tonight."
Doh!
As I unwrapped myself from my scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and fleece vest I nodded to the waitress held up my finger indicating I would be dining alone that night. She spoke to me in Korean, and when I responded in English I could see the wheels clicking in her head. "That girl is Chinese."
I take out a stack of scientific journal articles I need to read. My soup comes out pretty quickly so it is a delicate balance of slurping and reading. Little red splashes landed all over my papers.
I was half way through my meal when I saw a girl wave. I waved back, but without my glasses I had no idea who she was. Crap. It was one of my former students. She walked over to my table with a boy. She introduced me to her boyfriend. And then she said, "Oh are you reading papers?"
"Ummm...Yes," I replied.
"Guess there is a lot of work in grad school," she said. I saw a glint of pity in her eye. "So what did you order?
"Ummm....noodle soup." I replied.
The waitress asks if my former student and her date want to sit at the table next to me.
"No, I think we will sit there," she said while pointing to a table across the room. "Right?[she says in my direction] you seem to have a lot of reading to do."
"Ummm...yeah, I got to finish this stuff, " I lied. "Well enjoy your dinner and ...." I could not think of a good way to end the conversation so I blurted out, "....don't forget there is a Lunar Eclipse tonight."
Doh!
Monday, February 18, 2008
We love love the Likelike Highway - Part # 3
The Likelike (pronounced LEE-keh-LEE-keh) Highway is one of the few passages that connect the North and South sides of Oahu. More importantly, it is fun to say. Likelike Likelike Likelike. Try it. Now I know it is the name of one the island princesses, and I mean no disrespect but for some reason repeating Hawaiian words brings me joy. For instance, our hotel was next to Ala Moana (pronounced ah-la moe-AH-nah) Park. Ala Moana Ala Moana Ala Moana. Ask ET#2 her favorite word and it would probably be Kahaaa (ka-HA-ah-ah-ah) for its abundance of A's.
The Bride, born and raised on the island, told us a joke about it. How do you know when you are speaking to someone who just moved to the island? They try to call the Pipeline, PEE-peh-LEE-neh.
The wedding
Saturday-
I know this sounds strange from a man-hating anti-romantic scientific-minded cynic, but I love weddings. Each one I've attended, has a special place in my memories. I know that every bride has slaved over the minutiae, has thrown a hissy fit or two, and embedded part of her personality into the event.
Saturday was all about the wedding. ET#2 and I woke up at 6:45 to shower and go on a coffee run for the Bride. Considering the wedding was at 11am, it really was not that early. When we arrived to the Bride's hotel room, everything was already abuzz with makeup artists and wedding party attendants.
[It is probably to important to make note that the Bride, much like Molly Ringwald in "Pretty in Pink" reconstructed a dress to her specifications. Unlike Molly Ringwald's frock, the dress was pretty and perfect for the Bride.]
After we all got made up, three of the bridesmaids got in the Bride's gray Toyota Corolla and headed for the Haiku Gardens: down Ala Moana Blvd., to Kalihi St., up the Likelike Hwy, then onto the Kahekili Hwy and turned on Haiku Rd.. We were on island time, a little late but not horribly.
Everything ran smoothly. The priest greeted the guests with a hypnotizing Hawaiian chant in his gentle baritone. A few funny moments. Lots of tears. And then the Bride and Groom were married.
The reception was in an open air restaurant overlooking the gardens. There was entertainment. A Hawaiian styled folk singer (a white dude in a floral print shirt), Filipino dancers (donated by the Bride's Godmother), and Tahitian dancers (the teens that live across the street from the Bride and Groom). Multiple toasts, including one by ET#2, the Maid of Honor, invoking memories of our college days.
There are more stories, I am sure, but I think I will end our Hawaiian adventure there.
Aloha a hui hou kakou. Try saying that three times fast.
The Bride, born and raised on the island, told us a joke about it. How do you know when you are speaking to someone who just moved to the island? They try to call the Pipeline, PEE-peh-LEE-neh.
The wedding
Saturday-
I know this sounds strange from a man-hating anti-romantic scientific-minded cynic, but I love weddings. Each one I've attended, has a special place in my memories. I know that every bride has slaved over the minutiae, has thrown a hissy fit or two, and embedded part of her personality into the event.
Saturday was all about the wedding. ET#2 and I woke up at 6:45 to shower and go on a coffee run for the Bride. Considering the wedding was at 11am, it really was not that early. When we arrived to the Bride's hotel room, everything was already abuzz with makeup artists and wedding party attendants.
[It is probably to important to make note that the Bride, much like Molly Ringwald in "Pretty in Pink" reconstructed a dress to her specifications. Unlike Molly Ringwald's frock, the dress was pretty and perfect for the Bride.]
After we all got made up, three of the bridesmaids got in the Bride's gray Toyota Corolla and headed for the Haiku Gardens: down Ala Moana Blvd., to Kalihi St., up the Likelike Hwy, then onto the Kahekili Hwy and turned on Haiku Rd.. We were on island time, a little late but not horribly.
Everything ran smoothly. The priest greeted the guests with a hypnotizing Hawaiian chant in his gentle baritone. A few funny moments. Lots of tears. And then the Bride and Groom were married.
The reception was in an open air restaurant overlooking the gardens. There was entertainment. A Hawaiian styled folk singer (a white dude in a floral print shirt), Filipino dancers (donated by the Bride's Godmother), and Tahitian dancers (the teens that live across the street from the Bride and Groom). Multiple toasts, including one by ET#2, the Maid of Honor, invoking memories of our college days.
There are more stories, I am sure, but I think I will end our Hawaiian adventure there.
Aloha a hui hou kakou. Try saying that three times fast.
Friday, February 15, 2008
We love love the Likelike Highway - Part #2
It has been less than a week and memories of Hawaii are rapidly fading. Rain, wind, and subzero temps have scrubbed out what is left of my tan. Maybe that is a why I am a little depressed. Instead of going out and binge drinking like I normally would, I am at home watching the Celine Dion Special as I update the blog.
It's Just Like Fantasy Island
No midgets, but there was no mistake that Hawaii was fantastic. With only a short time on the island it was hard to get an actual itinerary together. So lucky for us the Bride organized events everyday.
Thursday -
The morning was spent in a garden restaurant called the Willows. The Bride's aunt wanted to throw her a party. It was our first introduction to a Fantasy Island like place. The restaurant is outdoors on a series of wooden platforms over a man-made garden. Tropical plants and a waterfall matched the thatched roof and open air seating. As we walked in a young man in floral print shirt took drink orders for plantation ice teas (pineapple juice and tea). We sat around at the henfest. It was an all you can eat buffet, something I always can go for. Luckily, I was wearing a forgiving skirt. And while there were basic bridal things going on, I could not helped be hypnotized by the cascading water. The day was misty and rainy and warm enough to drink iced drinks. The whole restaurant seemed to be shrouded in a cloud that only Mr. Rourke could penetrate.
Later that night was a catamaran cruise. I had to skip this event as I am not good on the water. Something I only discovered this summer. Instead I watched the sunset on the beach. It was still a little cloudy and the sky lit up in dark reds. The sky in Hawaii is another thing that was amazing. Everyday I was there I saw a rainbow. And not just any rainbow, but rainbows that are full arcs with all seven colors prominent. Who knew those my crayon drawings from the first grade could come true?
Friday-
ET#2 and I woke up early in the morning feeling a little antsy. We called KenTak3's and Mamacita's room to see if they wanted to go for a run. The four of us suited up and headed to Ala Moana Beach Park, which was across the street. In the park we jogged along the beach, witnessed homeless people getting fed, and poured out sweat in the tropical humidity.
The wedding rehearsal was at noon. We showered and got ready to head out to the Haiku Gardens. The Haiku Gardens is a popular wedding site and it is easy to see why. Do you remember how in the show there was a scene where the elderly couple all of a sudden are young again and running through the lush tropics? That was Haiku gardens. It was a little muddy from the rain, but every thing was a bright verdant. The flowers were all red and white, and in background there was a green mountain whose peak was covered by white mist.
Sometimes Mr. Rourke will lead a perhaps research scientist to fulfill her dreams of singing stardom. And so went our night of karoke. The Bride and Groom rented out a large karoke room filled it with food and libations. I was giddy to have my moment under the lights. What would we sing? All of the Bride's and Grooms extended family were in attendance. Would we make asses of ourselves? Naturally. Mamacita confessed to me that she had never karoke'd before. What? That would change shortly.
ET#2, the Bride, I are old pros at this and have our signature songs. ET#2 has a strong penchant for all songs by the Backstreet Boys, and she debated between "As long as you love me" and "Quit playing games with my heart." I enjoy bad eighties crap so I sang a little Peter Cetera and some Elton John. Perhaps one of the highlights was Mamacita and Kentak3 doing a duet. Mainly. because we think Kentak3's deep baritone, attracted one of the Groom's male cousins. Apparently no amount of having his arm around his financee would shake this dude.
Tropical locales and wish fulfillment and high laughter, seriously where is Tatoo when you need him?
It's Just Like Fantasy Island
No midgets, but there was no mistake that Hawaii was fantastic. With only a short time on the island it was hard to get an actual itinerary together. So lucky for us the Bride organized events everyday.
Thursday -
The morning was spent in a garden restaurant called the Willows. The Bride's aunt wanted to throw her a party. It was our first introduction to a Fantasy Island like place. The restaurant is outdoors on a series of wooden platforms over a man-made garden. Tropical plants and a waterfall matched the thatched roof and open air seating. As we walked in a young man in floral print shirt took drink orders for plantation ice teas (pineapple juice and tea). We sat around at the henfest. It was an all you can eat buffet, something I always can go for. Luckily, I was wearing a forgiving skirt. And while there were basic bridal things going on, I could not helped be hypnotized by the cascading water. The day was misty and rainy and warm enough to drink iced drinks. The whole restaurant seemed to be shrouded in a cloud that only Mr. Rourke could penetrate.
Later that night was a catamaran cruise. I had to skip this event as I am not good on the water. Something I only discovered this summer. Instead I watched the sunset on the beach. It was still a little cloudy and the sky lit up in dark reds. The sky in Hawaii is another thing that was amazing. Everyday I was there I saw a rainbow. And not just any rainbow, but rainbows that are full arcs with all seven colors prominent. Who knew those my crayon drawings from the first grade could come true?
Friday-
ET#2 and I woke up early in the morning feeling a little antsy. We called KenTak3's and Mamacita's room to see if they wanted to go for a run. The four of us suited up and headed to Ala Moana Beach Park, which was across the street. In the park we jogged along the beach, witnessed homeless people getting fed, and poured out sweat in the tropical humidity.
The wedding rehearsal was at noon. We showered and got ready to head out to the Haiku Gardens. The Haiku Gardens is a popular wedding site and it is easy to see why. Do you remember how in the show there was a scene where the elderly couple all of a sudden are young again and running through the lush tropics? That was Haiku gardens. It was a little muddy from the rain, but every thing was a bright verdant. The flowers were all red and white, and in background there was a green mountain whose peak was covered by white mist.
Sometimes Mr. Rourke will lead a perhaps research scientist to fulfill her dreams of singing stardom. And so went our night of karoke. The Bride and Groom rented out a large karoke room filled it with food and libations. I was giddy to have my moment under the lights. What would we sing? All of the Bride's and Grooms extended family were in attendance. Would we make asses of ourselves? Naturally. Mamacita confessed to me that she had never karoke'd before. What? That would change shortly.
ET#2, the Bride, I are old pros at this and have our signature songs. ET#2 has a strong penchant for all songs by the Backstreet Boys, and she debated between "As long as you love me" and "Quit playing games with my heart." I enjoy bad eighties crap so I sang a little Peter Cetera and some Elton John. Perhaps one of the highlights was Mamacita and Kentak3 doing a duet. Mainly. because we think Kentak3's deep baritone, attracted one of the Groom's male cousins. Apparently no amount of having his arm around his financee would shake this dude.
Tropical locales and wish fulfillment and high laughter, seriously where is Tatoo when you need him?
Monday, February 11, 2008
We love love the Likelike Highway - Part#1
Aloha!
What a week it has been. I was negligent in last week's post due to the fact that my computer has some kind of virus that keeps popping up internet explorer and no amount of reformatting seems to get rid of it. Sigh. But all of those computer woes were washed away from my mind during my week in paradise aka Hawaii.
I arrived in Honolulu on Tuesday afternoon. When I asked a young man in a flower print shirt where I could catch the airport shuttle bus to Waikiki, he pointed to a sign that said "Ground Transportation." Then he said, "I'm sorry you are here for such bad weather." Huh? I was extremely confused. Sure it was a little cloudy, but it was 75 degrees with a slight tropical breeze and I had just come from a city that had freezing rain. Einstein was proved right again, all things are relative.
Wednesday - a day of romance.
Since my boyfriend, George Clooney, was otherwise occupied this week, I resigned myself to sulk in my hotel room (it was bad weather after all). Instead Evil Twin #2 and I decided to take a drive around the island of Oahu.
First stop-Dole Plantation.
We had a breakfast of cinnamon roasted macadamia nuts, the freshest pinapple ever, and some weird pinapple ice cream that kind of tasted like feet. After a stroll in the pinapple garden, we took pictures of ourselves in large wooden cutouts of Pinapple Pete. Maybe ET#2 will post them. Maybe not.
Second stop - Waimae beach
Our only goal for the day was to eat at a shrimp truck in Kahuku, so we played most of the day by ear. We were cruising along the Kamehameha Highway and decided to stop to enjoy some beach time. We pulled into a muddy parking lot and followed some surfers across the street. The sand was white, the water was navy and turquoise, and there were white puffy clouds in the blue sky. Another perfect moment in Paradise. We walked hand in hand in the soft white sand our hair blowing in the breeze .... okay wait we were not in a Valtrex comercial, but we could have been. The beach was virtually empty except for some leathery italians, a woman walking her dogs and a life guard with lots of ab muscles cleaning off with a gallon of water over his head. We sat down and watched some amateur surfers in distance tackle the waves.
Third stop - Food trucks
Fresh young coconuts were sold on the side of the road. Since ET#2 and I had sucker written on our foreheads, ET#2 paid some unwholly sum for two coconuts. The lady cut them with a large knife and we drank them by the side of the road. Then the lady cut them in half and we ate the coconut meat. Since we drank something sweet, it was time for the salty goodness of shrimp cooked in butter oil and garlic. Giovanni's is destination for many tourists on the island. It has two trucks one for shrimp and one for shaved ice. Tables and shade are set out in the gravel parking lot. We ordered two shrimp scampis, which are served with two scoops of sushi rice covered in garlic pieces and scampi sauce. The ultimate in fusion cuisine.
Fourth stop - the pipeline
After our garlicky meal, we decided to check out the surfers on the Pipeline. The north shore is the windy side of the island. This can be seen not only by the higher number of surfers but also the change in foiliage. It is denser and lusher. Along the Bonzai Pipeline, the sand is much coarser. We sat down next to a nice geriatric couple and watched the surfers. Since the waves were substandard, there were not that many elite surfers in the water. We did get to see whales junping in the distance. At the bathrooms, ET#2 found an admirer who followed her out, asked for the time, and commented how much he liked her dress. It was not a love connection.
Fifth stop - Coffee and portugese coconut buns
Our bride friend wanted us to meet her later that afternoon to help assemble some wedding programs. I got lost and we stopped at a Portugese bakery for some coffee. Behind the counter was a very good looking Happa boy. ET#2 told me that he was going to be a lawyer. That is what the fortune teller who was in the bakery told him. ET#2 was intriguied enough by their conversation that she ordered a coconut bun to not look suspicious as she stayed in the front to eavesdrop. A good decision because that thing was delicious. We made it to the Starbucks in which the bride and groom were meeting the videographer. This Pearlridge Starbucks was a one stop shopping for all of one's wedding needs. When we got there, there were our friends, and next to them a wedding photographer, and behind them a DJay and an asian bride-to-be that burst into tears.
We did some bridal bonding after that. More to come.....
What a week it has been. I was negligent in last week's post due to the fact that my computer has some kind of virus that keeps popping up internet explorer and no amount of reformatting seems to get rid of it. Sigh. But all of those computer woes were washed away from my mind during my week in paradise aka Hawaii.
I arrived in Honolulu on Tuesday afternoon. When I asked a young man in a flower print shirt where I could catch the airport shuttle bus to Waikiki, he pointed to a sign that said "Ground Transportation." Then he said, "I'm sorry you are here for such bad weather." Huh? I was extremely confused. Sure it was a little cloudy, but it was 75 degrees with a slight tropical breeze and I had just come from a city that had freezing rain. Einstein was proved right again, all things are relative.
Wednesday - a day of romance.
Since my boyfriend, George Clooney, was otherwise occupied this week, I resigned myself to sulk in my hotel room (it was bad weather after all). Instead Evil Twin #2 and I decided to take a drive around the island of Oahu.
First stop-Dole Plantation.
We had a breakfast of cinnamon roasted macadamia nuts, the freshest pinapple ever, and some weird pinapple ice cream that kind of tasted like feet. After a stroll in the pinapple garden, we took pictures of ourselves in large wooden cutouts of Pinapple Pete. Maybe ET#2 will post them. Maybe not.
Second stop - Waimae beach
Our only goal for the day was to eat at a shrimp truck in Kahuku, so we played most of the day by ear. We were cruising along the Kamehameha Highway and decided to stop to enjoy some beach time. We pulled into a muddy parking lot and followed some surfers across the street. The sand was white, the water was navy and turquoise, and there were white puffy clouds in the blue sky. Another perfect moment in Paradise. We walked hand in hand in the soft white sand our hair blowing in the breeze .... okay wait we were not in a Valtrex comercial, but we could have been. The beach was virtually empty except for some leathery italians, a woman walking her dogs and a life guard with lots of ab muscles cleaning off with a gallon of water over his head. We sat down and watched some amateur surfers in distance tackle the waves.
Third stop - Food trucks
Fresh young coconuts were sold on the side of the road. Since ET#2 and I had sucker written on our foreheads, ET#2 paid some unwholly sum for two coconuts. The lady cut them with a large knife and we drank them by the side of the road. Then the lady cut them in half and we ate the coconut meat. Since we drank something sweet, it was time for the salty goodness of shrimp cooked in butter oil and garlic. Giovanni's is destination for many tourists on the island. It has two trucks one for shrimp and one for shaved ice. Tables and shade are set out in the gravel parking lot. We ordered two shrimp scampis, which are served with two scoops of sushi rice covered in garlic pieces and scampi sauce. The ultimate in fusion cuisine.
Fourth stop - the pipeline
After our garlicky meal, we decided to check out the surfers on the Pipeline. The north shore is the windy side of the island. This can be seen not only by the higher number of surfers but also the change in foiliage. It is denser and lusher. Along the Bonzai Pipeline, the sand is much coarser. We sat down next to a nice geriatric couple and watched the surfers. Since the waves were substandard, there were not that many elite surfers in the water. We did get to see whales junping in the distance. At the bathrooms, ET#2 found an admirer who followed her out, asked for the time, and commented how much he liked her dress. It was not a love connection.
Fifth stop - Coffee and portugese coconut buns
Our bride friend wanted us to meet her later that afternoon to help assemble some wedding programs. I got lost and we stopped at a Portugese bakery for some coffee. Behind the counter was a very good looking Happa boy. ET#2 told me that he was going to be a lawyer. That is what the fortune teller who was in the bakery told him. ET#2 was intriguied enough by their conversation that she ordered a coconut bun to not look suspicious as she stayed in the front to eavesdrop. A good decision because that thing was delicious. We made it to the Starbucks in which the bride and groom were meeting the videographer. This Pearlridge Starbucks was a one stop shopping for all of one's wedding needs. When we got there, there were our friends, and next to them a wedding photographer, and behind them a DJay and an asian bride-to-be that burst into tears.
We did some bridal bonding after that. More to come.....
Monday, January 28, 2008
I heart angry men
It is true that lately the angrier the man the more I like them. Part of it may be due to the fact that I am an angry girl. I am angry about the nation's idiotic foreign policy. I am angry that the disparity between the rich and the poor grows ever larger. I am angry that people carry little or no personal responsibility for themselves and act like idiots. I am angry that when I write that "I am angry" in my weekly email to interns manning the stations of president@whitehouse.gov. (I would email my congressman too, but he has an elaborate system where you can only email through his website) I get only an automated reply. And I am angry that there are no more Cheetos in the vending machine, a girl needs her salty snacks.
All [but that last] are probably why I remove myself from the whole politcal scene. I sometimes take it too seriously. I remember my parents telling me about listening to MLK and JFK speak on the radio. My mom still cries when she thinks about it. My dad still tells me what a great man JFK was. How he believes JFK made all things possible for his family to exist in the United States. Of course, my dad also believes that immigration and equal rights are bad things because Koreans are flooding California and living off of welfare which forces him to lie and tell everyone he was born in Mongolia. But I digress.
That was my parent hippie version of politics in America. A time when a president encouraged the youth to volunteer more and sent a man to the moon. He also escalated a war in the jungles of Southeast Asia, something they seem to ignore.
Yes, I am from a more cynical America. We always believe the government has an alternate agenda, and we let it go because that is the way it works. I teared up when listening to Obama speak four years ago at the Democratic convention, but five minutes later I was over it. My heart rehardened.
On Friday, my cubemate took a half day. Translation: I could listen to all the podcasts and talk radio I wanted. While normally guilt makes me do a little work, instead I was left unmonitored, reading the Economist online while listening to Bill Maher. I don't know how it started, but I listened to all the stump speeches. Some were comical. Some were frightening. Some were boring. The one that caught my attention was the pretty boy from North Carolina. Under forced chuckles I heard a sound that I liked. It was seething anger. I even went to http://www.johnedwards.com/ and donated money in a haze of good feelings. Let's be frank, that is more activism than I have done in 8 years.
But he was not the only angry man I love. No, my ultimate shout out goes to Keith Olbermann. I listened to his rants, raves, countdowns and putdowns as I happily pippetted on my bench. I did not even mind working, a little. I gave a mean snarfing laugh at his depiction of Britney, a "right on, brother man," during his tirade on Bush.
So here's to you angry people. I know it is a futile cause. While the rest of America rejoices at its greatness, I will be listening to you trying to shout over the cheery din.
All [but that last] are probably why I remove myself from the whole politcal scene. I sometimes take it too seriously. I remember my parents telling me about listening to MLK and JFK speak on the radio. My mom still cries when she thinks about it. My dad still tells me what a great man JFK was. How he believes JFK made all things possible for his family to exist in the United States. Of course, my dad also believes that immigration and equal rights are bad things because Koreans are flooding California and living off of welfare which forces him to lie and tell everyone he was born in Mongolia. But I digress.
That was my parent hippie version of politics in America. A time when a president encouraged the youth to volunteer more and sent a man to the moon. He also escalated a war in the jungles of Southeast Asia, something they seem to ignore.
Yes, I am from a more cynical America. We always believe the government has an alternate agenda, and we let it go because that is the way it works. I teared up when listening to Obama speak four years ago at the Democratic convention, but five minutes later I was over it. My heart rehardened.
On Friday, my cubemate took a half day. Translation: I could listen to all the podcasts and talk radio I wanted. While normally guilt makes me do a little work, instead I was left unmonitored, reading the Economist online while listening to Bill Maher. I don't know how it started, but I listened to all the stump speeches. Some were comical. Some were frightening. Some were boring. The one that caught my attention was the pretty boy from North Carolina. Under forced chuckles I heard a sound that I liked. It was seething anger. I even went to http://www.johnedwards.com/ and donated money in a haze of good feelings. Let's be frank, that is more activism than I have done in 8 years.
But he was not the only angry man I love. No, my ultimate shout out goes to Keith Olbermann. I listened to his rants, raves, countdowns and putdowns as I happily pippetted on my bench. I did not even mind working, a little. I gave a mean snarfing laugh at his depiction of Britney, a "right on, brother man," during his tirade on Bush.
So here's to you angry people. I know it is a futile cause. While the rest of America rejoices at its greatness, I will be listening to you trying to shout over the cheery din.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Tummy ache
Normally, I extol the virtues of singledom, but this time I cannot. I am pretty sure a significant other would have prevented this travesty in my stomach from happening. Ugh...I feel so ill.
Breakfast: 2 slices of Sicilian eggplant pizza and a cup of milk
Snack: a japanese cabbage "health drink"
Lunch: 3 pork enchiladas.
Snack: a bottle of Aloe vera drink and a pack of Cheetos
Dinner: 4 cold buffalo chicken wings and blue cheese dressing. My roommate's vegan duck in peanut sauce with coconut rice. (She thought it was gross. I was happy to be green and not waste it.)
Dessert: a pint of mung beans with honey. a banana and peanut butter sandwich.
Attempt to assuage my stomach: a cup of chamomile tea and some saltines.
I think the cultures of the all food are fighting inside of me right now. Maybe there is no hope for world peace.
Breakfast: 2 slices of Sicilian eggplant pizza and a cup of milk
Snack: a japanese cabbage "health drink"
Lunch: 3 pork enchiladas.
Snack: a bottle of Aloe vera drink and a pack of Cheetos
Dinner: 4 cold buffalo chicken wings and blue cheese dressing. My roommate's vegan duck in peanut sauce with coconut rice. (She thought it was gross. I was happy to be green and not waste it.)
Dessert: a pint of mung beans with honey. a banana and peanut butter sandwich.
Attempt to assuage my stomach: a cup of chamomile tea and some saltines.
I think the cultures of the all food are fighting inside of me right now. Maybe there is no hope for world peace.
Monday, January 21, 2008
It's called "sex"
(Admittedly, I did not post this story because my mom gets embarrassed, but then I decided to go ahead because really it is her fault for raising such a evil child. Sorry, Mom.)
Every Sunday I call my parents. Really, I call my mother. My dad sometimes reluctantly answers the phone tells me my mom went to the store, is the in the bathroom, or simply disappeared for few hours. Despite the effort the past 18.5 years (and that is not a typo), it is impossible to engage in a conversation with him when he is not in the mood to talk.
My mother on the other hand, is always full of conversation. Bubbly to the end, often I am forced to do the following "Uh huh. Uh huh .... hey Mom, I gotta go now.....Uh huh Uh huh, yeah Mom I kind of got to .... Uh huh Uh huh....Umm bye.......Uh huh Uh huh ...okay great. Mom I really have to ...."
So this Sunday's conversation went as the following:
ET#1: Hey, Mom. What's going on? I hear you have to take care of the baby for a while. (My sister, her husband and niece are on a ski vacation.)
Mom: Oh yes you heard. L, L. guess who is on the phone? Guess who is on the phone? It is your Aunt.
ET#1: Okay, I guess you are kind of busy I will call back later.
Mom: Oh no. L and I are just playing. He loves electroinics.... (I zone out a little bit)... It is so cold here [in California, where it is 55 degrees Fahrenheit]. How cold is it in Boston?
ET#1: Umm like 15 maybe a little lower with wind chill.
Mom:[giggling] oh soooo cold. How are you suviving?
ET#1: I guess I am fine. I look like a homeless person with two coats. Also, I decided to jsut stay in my pajamas. Am walking back from the pharmacy right now.
Mom: Are you sick?
ET#1: No, no. Am just picking up some birth control pills. (Am taking them for acne, but would rather have my parent think I am having a little fun out here.)
Mom: Really? (She acts surprised even though I have told her I have been on it for the past 7 months.) You know your dad is doing so much better now that he is not taking the Zocor....(I zone out again) .... When is you next physical?
ET#1: Just went in for my annual gynocological exam too this week. I love the new Thin scrape thing. Gosh it is so superior than the old pinch swabs. Too bad it did not get invented earlier.
Mom: Oh that is nice, but why do you have to go so often?
ET#1: Because once a year is what they reccommend. Oh and guess what? I am Chlamydia, and HIV free too! (Yes, on my current student health plan, I have to pay out of my own pocket to get a tetnus booster, but every STD testing is free. So I like to take advantage of it. Now if only I could possibly work on catching one...)
Mom: Oh look L, is trying to turn on the television.
ET#1: Yeah. That would be kind of hard considering I am 3000 miles away. ... Well, had to go to pharmacy today because I kept forgetting to pick it up. Just wish it was a little cheaper. At 25 dollars a month, no wonder why there is a baby boom.
Mom: I wish I could buy it for you, but I don't know how that would look.
ET#1: HAHAHA
Mom: Oh I think L can here you laughing because he wants the phone right now. Do you want to talk to your Auntie? Do you want to talk to your Auntie?
ET#1: Oh that's okay, Mom. (Crap. This fake talking to the kid could take hours) Mom....Mom....Mom..... Umm, L give the phone to Grandma, give the phone to Grandma.....Mom...Mom....
Mom: Oh I thought he wanted to talk to you but he gave me the phone. Wait what were we talking about?
ET#1: About how you want someone to prescribe you the pill so you can get it for me?
Mom: That would look strange, right? Oh here comes L again. Wait
ET#1: (think fast think fast) No, that would not be strange at least it would be a good sign that you and dad were getting it on. You know a healthy sex life is important for seniors
[Silence]
Mom: Ummm.....okay I think I have to go now.
ET#1: Oh so soon alright. Bye, Mom. Love you.
Mom: Uh huh okay bye. (click)
Every Sunday I call my parents. Really, I call my mother. My dad sometimes reluctantly answers the phone tells me my mom went to the store, is the in the bathroom, or simply disappeared for few hours. Despite the effort the past 18.5 years (and that is not a typo), it is impossible to engage in a conversation with him when he is not in the mood to talk.
My mother on the other hand, is always full of conversation. Bubbly to the end, often I am forced to do the following "Uh huh. Uh huh .... hey Mom, I gotta go now.....Uh huh Uh huh, yeah Mom I kind of got to .... Uh huh Uh huh....Umm bye.......Uh huh Uh huh ...okay great. Mom I really have to ...."
So this Sunday's conversation went as the following:
ET#1: Hey, Mom. What's going on? I hear you have to take care of the baby for a while. (My sister, her husband and niece are on a ski vacation.)
Mom: Oh yes you heard. L, L. guess who is on the phone? Guess who is on the phone? It is your Aunt.
ET#1: Okay, I guess you are kind of busy I will call back later.
Mom: Oh no. L and I are just playing. He loves electroinics.... (I zone out a little bit)... It is so cold here [in California, where it is 55 degrees Fahrenheit]. How cold is it in Boston?
ET#1: Umm like 15 maybe a little lower with wind chill.
Mom:[giggling] oh soooo cold. How are you suviving?
ET#1: I guess I am fine. I look like a homeless person with two coats. Also, I decided to jsut stay in my pajamas. Am walking back from the pharmacy right now.
Mom: Are you sick?
ET#1: No, no. Am just picking up some birth control pills. (Am taking them for acne, but would rather have my parent think I am having a little fun out here.)
Mom: Really? (She acts surprised even though I have told her I have been on it for the past 7 months.) You know your dad is doing so much better now that he is not taking the Zocor....(I zone out again) .... When is you next physical?
ET#1: Just went in for my annual gynocological exam too this week. I love the new Thin scrape thing. Gosh it is so superior than the old pinch swabs. Too bad it did not get invented earlier.
Mom: Oh that is nice, but why do you have to go so often?
ET#1: Because once a year is what they reccommend. Oh and guess what? I am Chlamydia, and HIV free too! (Yes, on my current student health plan, I have to pay out of my own pocket to get a tetnus booster, but every STD testing is free. So I like to take advantage of it. Now if only I could possibly work on catching one...)
Mom: Oh look L, is trying to turn on the television.
ET#1: Yeah. That would be kind of hard considering I am 3000 miles away. ... Well, had to go to pharmacy today because I kept forgetting to pick it up. Just wish it was a little cheaper. At 25 dollars a month, no wonder why there is a baby boom.
Mom: I wish I could buy it for you, but I don't know how that would look.
ET#1: HAHAHA
Mom: Oh I think L can here you laughing because he wants the phone right now. Do you want to talk to your Auntie? Do you want to talk to your Auntie?
ET#1: Oh that's okay, Mom. (Crap. This fake talking to the kid could take hours) Mom....Mom....Mom..... Umm, L give the phone to Grandma, give the phone to Grandma.....Mom...Mom....
Mom: Oh I thought he wanted to talk to you but he gave me the phone. Wait what were we talking about?
ET#1: About how you want someone to prescribe you the pill so you can get it for me?
Mom: That would look strange, right? Oh here comes L again. Wait
ET#1: (think fast think fast) No, that would not be strange at least it would be a good sign that you and dad were getting it on. You know a healthy sex life is important for seniors
[Silence]
Mom: Ummm.....okay I think I have to go now.
ET#1: Oh so soon alright. Bye, Mom. Love you.
Mom: Uh huh okay bye. (click)
Monday, January 14, 2008
Check that box!
It is a little act. A swoop of the pen. But for me, it was causing so much anxiety last week. The "box" in my case is a tiny square on the my Dissertation Advisory Committee (DAC) form that sits next to this sentence:
Student may begin writing dissertation: [] Yes [] No
Last Thursday, my committee of nerdy middle aged men checked the box next to "Yes." It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of me. It meant I was actually graduate. I went out for beers with the lab. I went out for drinks with A. I left obnoxious voice mails on a number of phones, like the one I left on ET#2's phone that was simply me yelling into the phone.
By Saturday, the euphoria disappeared. It was time to go back to work. It was time to get a job. It was time to actually start writing my dissertation.
I missed my Monday post. Maybe I missed because I was working on a fellowship application, but probably not. I got an email from TT, asking me if I was okay. He worries when I do not post regularly. I thought about it. At first, I thought it was just too busy, but that was not it at all. I felt tapped out. I had no stories to tell. Wasn't the box checking supposed to change my life? I think I thought it meant that my degree was now going to be automatically conferred and George Clooney in a tux would be at my doorstep with a bouquet of tiger lilies. How ridiculous that I could not enjoy my good news for more than two days.
I left the lab early, yesterday. I needed to go for a little walk to clear my head, to find stories. I walked down Brookline Ave. towards Brookline Village. I wanted to go to the Korean grocery store so I could buy some of that aloe juice that Mamacita fed us at New Year's Eve.
Along the way I ran into a homeless man that was stuck in a snow bank. I stopped traffic on right lane of Riverway so he could get up. He grabbed my two hand and I pulled. Once he got up, he darted across the street risking life and limb.
At the Korean grocery store, I was harassed by some Germans who wanted to know what everything was. "What is this?" "Dried fish." "What is this?" "Dried cuttlefish." "What is this?" "Dried squid." "What is this?" Okay it was starting to become unentertaining. The crazy woman running the cash register was attempting to speak Korean to someone who was clearly not Korean. I tried to explain to her that he did not understand her. She insisted he did. Then in the hubub she short changed me 10 dollars. Something I did not realize until I was two-thirds home. Sigh.
I left the store with my aloe juice in my backpack and walked up Harvard Ave. I stopped by the window of Bottega Fiorentina. I examined the Tuesday night specials. As I was debating if I wanted the pork tenderloin or the penne with tomato clam sauce, a man with a ruddy face tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped into my defensive position, until he said, "You like Italian food. This place is fantastic." He said all of this with a heavy Italian accent. "I am serious very very good." I had no idea how to respond. I ended up not getting any food.
When I got home, I saw my roommate and told him all that happened on my walk. I had much to tell him. I even tolerated his girlish giggle he mentioned box checking because he thinks it sounds dirty.
I was ready to post. I even thought about how I was going to wrap the idea of box checking with primary voting, but it was a little too much. What I could do was tell how a small gesture, a swoop of the pen, sent me through a rollercoaster of emotions only to end where I started.
Student may begin writing dissertation: [] Yes [] No
Last Thursday, my committee of nerdy middle aged men checked the box next to "Yes." It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of me. It meant I was actually graduate. I went out for beers with the lab. I went out for drinks with A. I left obnoxious voice mails on a number of phones, like the one I left on ET#2's phone that was simply me yelling into the phone.
By Saturday, the euphoria disappeared. It was time to go back to work. It was time to get a job. It was time to actually start writing my dissertation.
I missed my Monday post. Maybe I missed because I was working on a fellowship application, but probably not. I got an email from TT, asking me if I was okay. He worries when I do not post regularly. I thought about it. At first, I thought it was just too busy, but that was not it at all. I felt tapped out. I had no stories to tell. Wasn't the box checking supposed to change my life? I think I thought it meant that my degree was now going to be automatically conferred and George Clooney in a tux would be at my doorstep with a bouquet of tiger lilies. How ridiculous that I could not enjoy my good news for more than two days.
I left the lab early, yesterday. I needed to go for a little walk to clear my head, to find stories. I walked down Brookline Ave. towards Brookline Village. I wanted to go to the Korean grocery store so I could buy some of that aloe juice that Mamacita fed us at New Year's Eve.
Along the way I ran into a homeless man that was stuck in a snow bank. I stopped traffic on right lane of Riverway so he could get up. He grabbed my two hand and I pulled. Once he got up, he darted across the street risking life and limb.
At the Korean grocery store, I was harassed by some Germans who wanted to know what everything was. "What is this?" "Dried fish." "What is this?" "Dried cuttlefish." "What is this?" "Dried squid." "What is this?" Okay it was starting to become unentertaining. The crazy woman running the cash register was attempting to speak Korean to someone who was clearly not Korean. I tried to explain to her that he did not understand her. She insisted he did. Then in the hubub she short changed me 10 dollars. Something I did not realize until I was two-thirds home. Sigh.
I left the store with my aloe juice in my backpack and walked up Harvard Ave. I stopped by the window of Bottega Fiorentina. I examined the Tuesday night specials. As I was debating if I wanted the pork tenderloin or the penne with tomato clam sauce, a man with a ruddy face tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped into my defensive position, until he said, "You like Italian food. This place is fantastic." He said all of this with a heavy Italian accent. "I am serious very very good." I had no idea how to respond. I ended up not getting any food.
When I got home, I saw my roommate and told him all that happened on my walk. I had much to tell him. I even tolerated his girlish giggle he mentioned box checking because he thinks it sounds dirty.
I was ready to post. I even thought about how I was going to wrap the idea of box checking with primary voting, but it was a little too much. What I could do was tell how a small gesture, a swoop of the pen, sent me through a rollercoaster of emotions only to end where I started.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Hermitage
If I could grow hair of any kind, I would be a wooly beast as of now. But I am a hairless Asian so there is little evidence of my recent hermit status.
January 10th, I have a big meeting. It could go any direction. I am at the mercy of 4 middle aged professors. Although they promised to give me the go-ahead to write my dissertation this meeting, I have heard rumors that male menopause is a very real thing. That means I actually did some work this past week.
I got back from New York City on Tuesday. It was a very relaxing three days in the City where I watched approximately 20 hours of television on ET#2 cable connected plasma TV. (Meant to do joint post with ET#2 about New Year's Eve but watched TV instead.) Am glad I rested up. Good preparation for my caffiene laddened few days.
My schedule the past few days is as follows: during the day, I would read obscure journal articles, and at night I played a lot of Super BounceOut. I could not sleep. I did not leave my apartment because I thought that I would get too distracted from finishing my work.
Did you know you can get everything delivered? And that all these items can be ordered online?
If you are a shut-in, life can be good. I have survived these past four days on Foodler.com (a restaurant delivery site) and Peapod.com (a grocery website.)
I am going to venture to the lab today. I hope I have not forgotten how to intereact with live humans.
Wish me luck everyone. I really need some good vibes this week!
January 10th, I have a big meeting. It could go any direction. I am at the mercy of 4 middle aged professors. Although they promised to give me the go-ahead to write my dissertation this meeting, I have heard rumors that male menopause is a very real thing. That means I actually did some work this past week.
I got back from New York City on Tuesday. It was a very relaxing three days in the City where I watched approximately 20 hours of television on ET#2 cable connected plasma TV. (Meant to do joint post with ET#2 about New Year's Eve but watched TV instead.) Am glad I rested up. Good preparation for my caffiene laddened few days.
My schedule the past few days is as follows: during the day, I would read obscure journal articles, and at night I played a lot of Super BounceOut. I could not sleep. I did not leave my apartment because I thought that I would get too distracted from finishing my work.
Did you know you can get everything delivered? And that all these items can be ordered online?
If you are a shut-in, life can be good. I have survived these past four days on Foodler.com (a restaurant delivery site) and Peapod.com (a grocery website.)
I am going to venture to the lab today. I hope I have not forgotten how to intereact with live humans.
Wish me luck everyone. I really need some good vibes this week!
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