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.

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.

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)

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.

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!