This happens every weekend I'm in town. And yet I forget, every weekend. I wake up on Saturday, feeling rested and lazy, relishing in my solace. I pull on a pair of jeans too hole-y for polite company and an old t-shirt of the same comfort and quality. Shunning decorum, seeking anomie, I head to the streets to run errands. I don't want to see a single soul I know, but in case I do, I pull a nice pair of shades with me. The errand today was finding cheese. How perfectly yuppie, how apropos of the South End. So I stroll out in my Saturday best- worn jeans, t-shirt, sunglasses, flip flops, thinking I look the part of a casual Saturday sidewalker. I am, after all, looking for cheese. But every weekend, I forget I'm in the South End. The "casual brunch" crowd is immaculately clad. It's nary 11am and there's a young woman outside of my building, talking on her blackberry, in three inch heels, skinny black pants, and a dressy "this only looks like I put no effort" top. Saturday mornings are but an illusion of charm and relaxation. Why of course. And there I am, strolling with my log of chevre in hand, once again, feeling pretentious and underdressed at the same time, for the zillionth time.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Grow Fonder
Dear Blog:
Remember how I used to keep a blog? I hardly do. Eh, what's been happening with my life? Weekend in the White Mountains, way too much time spent photographying a dinosaur squeak toy, computer down for another week, saw Rove vs. Carville last night, came home to pound a giant lobster with a hammer, hosting a benefit on Saturday, expect some animal cruelty in my future, and oh yes, I am randomly sick. That's life in a nutshell. Way too much to tell you, but so little time, so little energy, and so many germs.
---
Doc Query:... so I found his email address and was able to contact him.
Moi: You out-googled me?
Doc Query: Yeah, I did. I just wanted to rub that in.
Doc Whitecastle: You've got to put them in their place when they have a chance, you know?
Moi: In case we're not lowly enough?
Doc Whitecastle: It's like making residents cry.
Doc Query: This is the season for it, June, July. That's when you can still break their spirit.
Did I mention that we save lives for a living? And change the world? Do-gooders all around.
Remember how I used to keep a blog? I hardly do. Eh, what's been happening with my life? Weekend in the White Mountains, way too much time spent photographying a dinosaur squeak toy, computer down for another week, saw Rove vs. Carville last night, came home to pound a giant lobster with a hammer, hosting a benefit on Saturday, expect some animal cruelty in my future, and oh yes, I am randomly sick. That's life in a nutshell. Way too much to tell you, but so little time, so little energy, and so many germs.
---
Doc Query:... so I found his email address and was able to contact him.
Moi: You out-googled me?
Doc Query: Yeah, I did. I just wanted to rub that in.
Doc Whitecastle: You've got to put them in their place when they have a chance, you know?
Moi: In case we're not lowly enough?
Doc Whitecastle: It's like making residents cry.
Doc Query: This is the season for it, June, July. That's when you can still break their spirit.
Did I mention that we save lives for a living? And change the world? Do-gooders all around.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
The SADD Life
I have given up drinking. If I must, I will drink water. But I am keeping the Nazarite vow (except for the head shaving part, and maybe the grave part) and abstaining from alcohol. It's not that I've hit some debauchery low, blacked out, and regret my actions. It's much more lame than that. The last couple of times I've had very little alcohol (as in, 1-2 beers), I have turned very, very red. It's much worse than I remember. And I don't like to feel my arms and legs throbbing. So I'm accepting the fact that I am the intolerant type of aldehyde dehydrogenase deficient, instead of the alcohol tolerant type who are at higher risk for throat cancer. Probably should have had more beers when I was more tolerant. And probably should have not picked tonight- the work happy hour- to be the day to stop drinking. It was a small crowd today, and as the waiter went around the table and I apologized for being lame and asked for non-alcoholic mixed drink, the Chief and Whitecastle both scoffed. "You're the ring leader in this and you're not going to drink?" "I didn't think it was appropriate for me to turn really red." "Oh, come on!" I did, however, have a sip of Whitecastle's Cocoa Cochon-- bacon vodka and chocolate liquer, just because of how ridiculous it sounded. "Let's all watch her turn red!" He exclaimed as I took the tiniest of sips. Thanks, Body. As if my life wasn't lame enough.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
$5 Tibet
Doc Binks is giving away a digital amplifier to anyone who wants it and has set it out by my cabinet. For some reason, this act highly amused Doc Fisher. Who wants to unload some old furniture onto Jen and me.
Doc Fisher: If you really wanted to unload it, you'd charge something so people know it works. Well, you've taken the first right step. Put it here between their cubes and not in your office.
Doc Binks: Actually, I offered to take it back if no one took it.
Doc Fisher: That's a mistake right there. Your goal is to unload it. You should embrace the entrepreneurial spirit. Make a few bucks.
Doc Binks: But I just want to share the sterephonic love.
Doc Fisher: Now, perhaps if you put that up. Advertise with a banner that said, "Sharing the Stereophonic Love." That might work.
Doc Fisher: If you really wanted to unload it, you'd charge something so people know it works. Well, you've taken the first right step. Put it here between their cubes and not in your office.
Doc Binks: Actually, I offered to take it back if no one took it.
Doc Fisher: That's a mistake right there. Your goal is to unload it. You should embrace the entrepreneurial spirit. Make a few bucks.
Doc Binks: But I just want to share the sterephonic love.
Doc Fisher: Now, perhaps if you put that up. Advertise with a banner that said, "Sharing the Stereophonic Love." That might work.
My Thai
This one is going in to the Annals of Good Ideas. The first hot day in a long while. Blankets. Bo' friends. Patch of grass by the swan boats. Thai take-out around dinner time. That's right. Not to brag or anything, but I had a glorious Thai take out picnique last night (Joe was assigned to bring "Thai meat" and did so by calling up the restaurant and asking "Do you serve any meat? I would like a meat. And a vegetable."). You were probably not invited. If the Commons used to be the haven for derelicts, the Garden seems to be the place of choice for couples without a room. They were everywhere last night, but Jenny shooed them away from our area at least, with a quick, stern, "Hey, hey, hey!" She's going to be the best mom someday.
PS. I'm going to be MIA for awhile. Because I'm Sri Lanka. And because my computer died.
PS. I'm going to be MIA for awhile. Because I'm Sri Lanka. And because my computer died.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sweet Sensations
I walked by Doc Binks's office today and overhear Doc Vice and him discussing a graph…
Doc Vice: What are these- yes, OK- but can we get rid of these sprinkles?
Doc Binks: Do you always see things in terms of dessert?
Doc Vice: What are these- yes, OK- but can we get rid of these sprinkles?
Doc Binks: Do you always see things in terms of dessert?
Monday, May 18, 2009
Potty Training
Discussing some methods controversy at the division meeting today, Doc Vice shared that apparently, a grad student had scribbled something in the SPH bathroom regarding a stance that Doc Vice agreed with. Noticing that I was stifling laughter, Doc Binks turns to me.
Doc Binks: You know you just signed on for two years of this.
Doc Fisher: Going to be spending a lot of times in those bathrooms.
The Chief notices the murmurs and snickers.
Doc Chief: Well, this was in the men's room wall, right? Not the women's?
Doc Vice: I assume that he didn't go into the ladies' room to read this.
Moi: Shucks.
Doc Chief: So if you want to read it, you'll have to go to the men's room.
(great thinking-on-foot, if I say so myself)
No, it wasn't weird at all, or uncomfortable the entire time Doc Chief was explaining which bathroom I would have to go to for the next two years the latest contentions in epi methods. For the next two years, I'm only going to stick with toilets I know. And avoid drinking anything at school.
Doc Binks: You know you just signed on for two years of this.
Doc Fisher: Going to be spending a lot of times in those bathrooms.
The Chief notices the murmurs and snickers.
Doc Chief: Well, this was in the men's room wall, right? Not the women's?
Doc Vice: I assume that he didn't go into the ladies' room to read this.
Moi: Shucks.
Doc Chief: So if you want to read it, you'll have to go to the men's room.
(great thinking-on-foot, if I say so myself)
No, it wasn't weird at all, or uncomfortable the entire time Doc Chief was explaining which bathroom I would have to go to for the next two years the latest contentions in epi methods. For the next two years, I'm only going to stick with toilets I know. And avoid drinking anything at school.
Pillar of Salt
As we age and near death, our habits change. Our bodies adapt. We learn that the fittest survive and thus we ought to eat fruits and vegetables, no matter what we really think of their grossness agenda. We learn to study, else we'd never pass tests, move on to the next grade, and get fulfilling jobs like research assisting. And we learn to blog using the 'royal we' to give credence to our statements. It's taken years of discipline to get to this point, with so much work still to be done, but my body has decided to rebel. More specifically, I've relapsed- my body has had a taste of what it has been deprived of for so long, and now it can't wait to go back. There were the chicken nuggets two months ago. And this morning, I played a game of Snake. Now all I want to do is sit in my bed, tray of chicken nuggets on one side (ranch, BBQ, honey dijon, and of course, ketchup for dipping), a cup of Mountain Dew in front of me, and play Snake. Over and over again. Followed by Tetris. (I have no patience for Pong) It is taking every ounce of self restraint I have to be working right now, sipping tea, and sitting obediently in front of my screen. Soul. So. Full. Of. Anguish.
Born to Run
This morning, the shuttle bus encountered four yellow lights. Our stubborn and fearless driver decided to chase every single one of them. And at all four times, he ended up running red lights. He wasn't even close on any of the lights. Yet his tenacity and persistence were almost inspiring. He never seemed to learn his lesson. And, driving a big shuttle bus, it wasn't like anyone was going to rush out and hit him (they'd end up hitting me) for blocking the road. And so, on this grim Monday morning, let's all learn a lesson from shuttle bus driver- even when things aren't looking good, just keep running, running, and running.
(Speaking of running, I decided a couple of weeks ago that I'd start running three times a week. I have run zero times since then. Though on Saturday night, Landlady Chang and I agreed that we'd do so on Sunday morning, only to wake up and discover it raining outside. "You can't run in the rain," we said to each other, shrugged, and I started watching teevee instead. But that was before my shuttle driver put my life in danger. Now I know better.)
(Speaking of running, I decided a couple of weeks ago that I'd start running three times a week. I have run zero times since then. Though on Saturday night, Landlady Chang and I agreed that we'd do so on Sunday morning, only to wake up and discover it raining outside. "You can't run in the rain," we said to each other, shrugged, and I started watching teevee instead. But that was before my shuttle driver put my life in danger. Now I know better.)
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Soul Train
I'm mourning the loss of my black Pilot BPS-GP fine pen. If anyone can track one down for me, I'd be willing to pay $5. Don't tempt me. I just might pay $10.
Give thanks, with a grateful heart
give thanks to the holy one
On the train ride to Dorchester this morning, a couple of guys entered with Bibles in their hand and started singing call and response. Jesus, one man would start, and Jesus, the other would echo. Healer, he continued, and healer, he followed. A woman sitting nearby laughed. "What is this, church on the subway?" And they started talking. She goes to Hope Fellowship by Porter. Their church is in Dorchester. Midway through the ride, another lady entered, singing. She sat in the far corner, away from the harmonizing duo, and sang her own hymn. Give thanks because he's given Jesus Christ, his son. I couldn't help but mouth along. It was such a surreal experience. I know that non-Christians often feel that faith issues are being shoved down their throats, but as a life-long Christian, I often feel the opposite, that my faith is something I cannot talk about except with my Jesus friends. The words 'mainstream culture' are often used by the one group to refer to another- so this morning was a rare gift for me. These two guys were singing on one end, this lone woman on the other, and the handful of us quiet, taking it all in, nodding along in recognition-- coming as we are, sitting as we are, on Sunday morning.
and now, let the weak say I am strong
let the poor say I am rich
because of what the Lord has done for us
give thanks.
Give thanks, with a grateful heart
give thanks to the holy one
On the train ride to Dorchester this morning, a couple of guys entered with Bibles in their hand and started singing call and response. Jesus, one man would start, and Jesus, the other would echo. Healer, he continued, and healer, he followed. A woman sitting nearby laughed. "What is this, church on the subway?" And they started talking. She goes to Hope Fellowship by Porter. Their church is in Dorchester. Midway through the ride, another lady entered, singing. She sat in the far corner, away from the harmonizing duo, and sang her own hymn. Give thanks because he's given Jesus Christ, his son. I couldn't help but mouth along. It was such a surreal experience. I know that non-Christians often feel that faith issues are being shoved down their throats, but as a life-long Christian, I often feel the opposite, that my faith is something I cannot talk about except with my Jesus friends. The words 'mainstream culture' are often used by the one group to refer to another- so this morning was a rare gift for me. These two guys were singing on one end, this lone woman on the other, and the handful of us quiet, taking it all in, nodding along in recognition-- coming as we are, sitting as we are, on Sunday morning.
and now, let the weak say I am strong
let the poor say I am rich
because of what the Lord has done for us
give thanks.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Friday
I was not looking forward to Friday. I got home late the night before, and the night before that, and knew Friday would be exhausting. There was a dinner I didn't especially want to go to (especially when Sarah called around 4:30 and said that they were breaking out the grill and invited me to join) though I knew it'd be good for me. Work was not terribly exciting. And I had to wake up early on Saturday morning.
But then everything worked out perfectly. We sat outside for an extra long lunch today, the four of us not saying much of anything, just lounging in the sun and sharing the occasional mouse story. In the afternoon, we had an ice cream break for Edith's birthday. Whitecastle was in a great mood- not uncharacteristic, but always a plus. And oh, dinner. Actually, on a scale of yellow to Lincoln, dinner was good, but it was that after dinner moment that I liked the best. It was the fellowship's monthly Welcome Dinner, but afterward, six of us headed over to Nicole's place- a place that's comforting and relaxing by looks alone. Sitting outside in the warm, mosquito-less night, goofing off with my 6 Jesus friends-- dim sum brunch, movie with mother, Indian dinner with Alex, drive with my dad, LOST finale in Dorchester, Animal Collective show, discovering new pho place-- of all those awesome nuggets of this crazy week, the hour at Nicole's backyard was the highlight.
But then everything worked out perfectly. We sat outside for an extra long lunch today, the four of us not saying much of anything, just lounging in the sun and sharing the occasional mouse story. In the afternoon, we had an ice cream break for Edith's birthday. Whitecastle was in a great mood- not uncharacteristic, but always a plus. And oh, dinner. Actually, on a scale of yellow to Lincoln, dinner was good, but it was that after dinner moment that I liked the best. It was the fellowship's monthly Welcome Dinner, but afterward, six of us headed over to Nicole's place- a place that's comforting and relaxing by looks alone. Sitting outside in the warm, mosquito-less night, goofing off with my 6 Jesus friends-- dim sum brunch, movie with mother, Indian dinner with Alex, drive with my dad, LOST finale in Dorchester, Animal Collective show, discovering new pho place-- of all those awesome nuggets of this crazy week, the hour at Nicole's backyard was the highlight.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Rocking Chair Good Time
Went to an Animal Collective show last night with Zvi, and -- thanks to Amy's complicated mind-- Jared and Jared's sister (while Amy waited at a bar outside and watched the Bruins). Zvi made me grade the show "on a scale between yellow and Lincoln, yellow being the lowest." I gave the show a great.5-- it was great, loved seeing My Girls live, really enjoyed it (hence the extra half point), but it wasn't spectacular. Plus, it made us feel incredibly old.
Zvi: My neck hurts. My knees hurt.
Moi: My knees are killing me, too. Imagine what would've happened had we actually danced. Plus, I keep looking around thinking, "how do these kids look so young?" I don't like this feeling.
Jared: That's because you are older than these kids. You're old.
Shut up, Jared. And way to go Grouper and Bruins, for being the biggest pump downs ever.
Zvi: My neck hurts. My knees hurt.
Moi: My knees are killing me, too. Imagine what would've happened had we actually danced. Plus, I keep looking around thinking, "how do these kids look so young?" I don't like this feeling.
Jared: That's because you are older than these kids. You're old.
Shut up, Jared. And way to go Grouper and Bruins, for being the biggest pump downs ever.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Laundry Room
Seems like everyone is trying to be quoted today, and I haven't even gotten to my uncomfortable bathroom story.
(This afternoon, I keep walking by Jen's desk to get to Whitecastle's office and turning back. By the third time, she strikes up conversation.)
Jen: How you doing?
Moi: I keep trying to stalk Whitecastle, but he keeps talking to people.
Jen: The nerve!
Moi: I know.
Jen: You'll have to get him alone to kill him, you know.
Moi: … (start seeing Jen in surprising new light)
PS. A delayed cyber five for everyone who got the title
(This afternoon, I keep walking by Jen's desk to get to Whitecastle's office and turning back. By the third time, she strikes up conversation.)
Jen: How you doing?
Moi: I keep trying to stalk Whitecastle, but he keeps talking to people.
Jen: The nerve!
Moi: I know.
Jen: You'll have to get him alone to kill him, you know.
Moi: … (start seeing Jen in surprising new light)
PS. A delayed cyber five for everyone who got the title
Working Hardly
(after reading another gem of a whiteboard entry today)
Whitecastle: This just confirms that we've got to find you more things to do.
Moi: What? See? I'm working on [editing and reformatting] your CV right now.
Whitecastle: Yeah, it was good how you flicked that window up right as I walked by.
(The real injustice is, I was actually working when all this transpired. All my windows were work related. That never happens.)
Whitecastle: This just confirms that we've got to find you more things to do.
Moi: What? See? I'm working on [editing and reformatting] your CV right now.
Whitecastle: Yeah, it was good how you flicked that window up right as I walked by.
(The real injustice is, I was actually working when all this transpired. All my windows were work related. That never happens.)
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Proud and Confused
The great thing about living in a city, even one as small as Boston, is that once the snow melts away and the sun arrives, there is always something going on during the summer. Today, Alex and I met up for dim sum and tea because she's all finished with school and on her way of representing our fine nation abroad (cannot be more proud of that girl). We grabbed some tea and pastries and looked for a place to sit on the Commons. That was when we spotted big white tents, a decent crowd, and heard live music. Naturally, we walked toward the commotion.
Moi: Oh, hey, a fair!
Alex: Look at all the colorful balloons.
Moi: Yes... balloons of all different colors... and oh, those girls I saw in purple earlier... hm.
Alex: How's this spot?
(we sit under a tree at the edge of the event, one that grants us a full view of the tents and people and a giant banner)
Moi (reading from the banner): Gay- Straight- Youth- Pride- oh.
(later, Alex gets really into the music...)
Alex: Yeah! Fight the power, fight the Man!
Moi: I don't think it's that kind of rally...
Moi: Oh, hey, a fair!
Alex: Look at all the colorful balloons.
Moi: Yes... balloons of all different colors... and oh, those girls I saw in purple earlier... hm.
Alex: How's this spot?
(we sit under a tree at the edge of the event, one that grants us a full view of the tents and people and a giant banner)
Moi (reading from the banner): Gay- Straight- Youth- Pride- oh.
(later, Alex gets really into the music...)
Alex: Yeah! Fight the power, fight the Man!
Moi: I don't think it's that kind of rally...
Mustard, Grilled Onions and Pickles
Sometimes during our Bo' lunches, we lose track of who's just being flip and who we're actually mocking. In those circumstances, however, it's best to assume that our target is Young Bo'.
(This past week, I've been studying up in preparation of an Animal Collective concert next week. Zvi was kind enough to burn me a CD.)
Zvi: You knew who they were, right?
Moi: Yes. Though when I first agreed, I was thinking of the Eclectic Collective.
Zvi: Ah, no, that's not them. They're not the Animals either. Or Grizzly Bear.
Young Bo': You know who they remind me of? The Eclectic Collective. I like them.
(pause)
Zvi: I like the color blue.
(This past week, I've been studying up in preparation of an Animal Collective concert next week. Zvi was kind enough to burn me a CD.)
Zvi: You knew who they were, right?
Moi: Yes. Though when I first agreed, I was thinking of the Eclectic Collective.
Zvi: Ah, no, that's not them. They're not the Animals either. Or Grizzly Bear.
Young Bo': You know who they remind me of? The Eclectic Collective. I like them.
(pause)
Zvi: I like the color blue.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Sort of a Big Deal
My friends are glamorous folks.
Young Bo' and I have a friendship on many levels. Colleague, alumni, Jesus friend, it's a relationship that we've discussed in many DTR talks. OK, that was a lie. But it definitely works on different levels. I fetch her water, proofread her drafts, she does the same for me, and we take co-ownership of cookies and ice cream tubs. Today, she made me go one step farther. I had to put a band aid on her, on a stupid little cut on her finger. As she held her finger out and I started wrapping the band aid around the little cut, Decision Scientist walked by and immediately broke out laughing.
Moi: (to Young Bo') I hate you.
Young Bo': What? You're saving a life. You should feel good.
And then Doc Query walked by. He also found it amusing.
Doc Query: So you get into Harvard School of Public Health and you think you can save lives now?
Moi: (to Young Bo') I hate you.
Half Baked
Let's not bury the lede. I had a baked Alaska last night. I'd seen them on my teevee before and last night we all, for the first time, witnessed it in all its glory. Tiller is moving to Alaska this afternoon and Sarah, being the ingenious and caring person that she is (the English adjective escapes me at the moment, but the Chinese word I'm thinking of means, literally, pasted-on-heart, to mean someone who's so intimately caring it's as if their heart is pressed against yours) thought to make a baked Alaska to send her off. I don't care where you're heading off, a baked Alaska is always the perfect send off. I can't even begin to pick a favorite part. Chocolate cake. Crushed Oreos center. Chocolate ice cream. A baked on meringue top reminiscent of s'mores. And oh, that's right, fire, glorious fire, brought on by rum, glorious rum, blazing through the whole, glacial piece, like a scene straight out of An Inconvenient Truth. It was a flawless presentation, with an all-too-eager Keith pouring flaming liqueur all over the pan and then back and forth between two cups as Sarah narrated the history of the dessert (it used to be called Alaska and Florida). Seamless execution. And I dare you to pick a high or low spot (no, the fire wasn't the winner because well, you can''t eat fire- you can eat crushed Oreos). Jordan and Ewing have nothing on this dream team.
PS. My Chinese is on a roll this week. First I help Father translate a phrase into Chinese (he was rather indignant that I came up with something better, considering how absolutely poor my skills are) and today, I can only think of the Chinese words I want, not English. Maybe tomorrow I'll learn how to write properly.
PS. My Chinese is on a roll this week. First I help Father translate a phrase into Chinese (he was rather indignant that I came up with something better, considering how absolutely poor my skills are) and today, I can only think of the Chinese words I want, not English. Maybe tomorrow I'll learn how to write properly.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Rose Colored Stained Glass Windows
I like my job. I can take joy in the grunt work and relish in the rare opportunities when I get to do some critical thinking. I know that that's what I'm good at. But once in awhile, I can just get lost designing posters. On some days, creating is so much more fun than analysis. Today was one of those days. This afternoon, I ran some fliers I'd made for the division happy hour by Whitecastle, to see which one would go up on his door.
Whitecastle: We've seriously got to find you more work.
Moi: I stayed late to make these!
Whitecastle: That one is too cynical for me.
Moi: What, 'cause you're just a ray of sunshine?
Whitecastle: I just call things as I see them.
(later, talking to Jen)
Moi: He said it was too cynical for him.
Jen: But that's impossible!
Whitecastle: We've seriously got to find you more work.
Moi: I stayed late to make these!
Whitecastle: That one is too cynical for me.
Moi: What, 'cause you're just a ray of sunshine?
Whitecastle: I just call things as I see them.
(later, talking to Jen)
Moi: He said it was too cynical for him.
Jen: But that's impossible!
Waltz with Potatoes
Firstly, apologies for the worse-than-usual grammar of the last entry. I seemed to have lost all punctuating capabilities last night.
The orange saga continues. This past weekend, as I settled into my bunk bed, I looked up at the bookshelf and saw a pile of orange peel. "Did you bring orange peel from home?" I asked Nic, who had plenty of opportunities along his journey to throw out his orange remains. "Yup, can't sleep without it actually." It must have traveled with him from the ferry to the bus, to Joe's place for dinner, and then the car ride up through the scary woods of Maine, into a house with plenty of trash cans. But some people have travel oranges and some people sleeping oranges.
I, on the other hand, am suffering a case of missing oranges. I have lost the ability to purchase produce. For two days now, I have gone into Stop & Shop, picked out produce, put them in my basket, checked out, and gone home, only to discover that they were missing- two beautiful navel oranges on Monday, and a bunch of scallion yesterday. The chips, salsa, cans, ham… all there. But not the produce. It's the strangest thing. (An onion did make it home on Monday, but not my oranges. I don't know why.) I'm not sure what kind of sickness this is, and where I keep leaving my produce, but my body really needs some Vitamin C.
The orange saga continues. This past weekend, as I settled into my bunk bed, I looked up at the bookshelf and saw a pile of orange peel. "Did you bring orange peel from home?" I asked Nic, who had plenty of opportunities along his journey to throw out his orange remains. "Yup, can't sleep without it actually." It must have traveled with him from the ferry to the bus, to Joe's place for dinner, and then the car ride up through the scary woods of Maine, into a house with plenty of trash cans. But some people have travel oranges and some people sleeping oranges.
I, on the other hand, am suffering a case of missing oranges. I have lost the ability to purchase produce. For two days now, I have gone into Stop & Shop, picked out produce, put them in my basket, checked out, and gone home, only to discover that they were missing- two beautiful navel oranges on Monday, and a bunch of scallion yesterday. The chips, salsa, cans, ham… all there. But not the produce. It's the strangest thing. (An onion did make it home on Monday, but not my oranges. I don't know why.) I'm not sure what kind of sickness this is, and where I keep leaving my produce, but my body really needs some Vitamin C.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Crimson Pride
Yeesh, Dusty. Hold your horses.
Today at work, because Supervisor often doesn't remember, I announced to the Division, for maybe the third time what my plans are for next year. That I am going across the street to the School of Public Health. Concentration? Health policy. (Though I think it might be the quantitative track. Sometimes I forget what I've signed myself up for. Or that I'm even going to school). And everyone nicely humored me by smiling, though I believe we're all getting tired of (feigning) being happy for me. But work is one of the few places where I don't feel funny saying where I'm going in the fall, because nobody is impressed and nobody will give me a hard time. Quite simply: everyone there is better than I am.
This weekend was another story. Every other word that came from my friends' mouths (and there were a lot of them that gathered at the cabin) was Haaaaarvuhd. Is that why you're going to Harvard? How did you ever get into Harvard? I'm sorry I'm not fancy like Harvard. (This coming from future doctors and Kelso, who already has her master's and oh, works for a world renowned news organization) After explaining for the fortieth time that I was going to "fake Harvard" (it really is- it's the least pretentious degree possible), I've finally decided enough with the modesty. I have plenty of time for that in the fall, when I will literally be the least experienced and least smart kid in class, or after graduation, when I'll be even poorer than I am now, or heck, I have opportunities to be modest every single day at work, so yes, Dustin and the World, I am going to Harvard.
PS. Just as how I had to get hit by a truck the Monday I was supposed to randomize data, so out of all the collaborators and contractors we work with, and all the ways that one could possibly get hurt, it had to be our transcriptionist who broke her wrist this weekend. She's having surgery tomorrow. With all the busyness at work piling on and all the other extracurriculars that I'm behind on, whenever I needed a break today, I just thought about the poor girl, and smiled, and smiled, and smiled. That's not so wrong is it? Of course not, wrong doesn't get you into Harvard.
Today at work, because Supervisor often doesn't remember, I announced to the Division, for maybe the third time what my plans are for next year. That I am going across the street to the School of Public Health. Concentration? Health policy. (Though I think it might be the quantitative track. Sometimes I forget what I've signed myself up for. Or that I'm even going to school). And everyone nicely humored me by smiling, though I believe we're all getting tired of (feigning) being happy for me. But work is one of the few places where I don't feel funny saying where I'm going in the fall, because nobody is impressed and nobody will give me a hard time. Quite simply: everyone there is better than I am.
This weekend was another story. Every other word that came from my friends' mouths (and there were a lot of them that gathered at the cabin) was Haaaaarvuhd. Is that why you're going to Harvard? How did you ever get into Harvard? I'm sorry I'm not fancy like Harvard. (This coming from future doctors and Kelso, who already has her master's and oh, works for a world renowned news organization) After explaining for the fortieth time that I was going to "fake Harvard" (it really is- it's the least pretentious degree possible), I've finally decided enough with the modesty. I have plenty of time for that in the fall, when I will literally be the least experienced and least smart kid in class, or after graduation, when I'll be even poorer than I am now, or heck, I have opportunities to be modest every single day at work, so yes, Dustin and the World, I am going to Harvard.
PS. Just as how I had to get hit by a truck the Monday I was supposed to randomize data, so out of all the collaborators and contractors we work with, and all the ways that one could possibly get hurt, it had to be our transcriptionist who broke her wrist this weekend. She's having surgery tomorrow. With all the busyness at work piling on and all the other extracurriculars that I'm behind on, whenever I needed a break today, I just thought about the poor girl, and smiled, and smiled, and smiled. That's not so wrong is it? Of course not, wrong doesn't get you into Harvard.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Missing Link
Spotted at the PolarBear Triathlon (thanks, Glenn Close!): Not a polar bear. Actually not quite sure whose mascot that is.
Does Security know about this?
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Starting with ME
This weekend was Linda's birthday and because she is crazy awesome, she decided to celebrate by running a triathlon and inviting her friends to cheer her on and share a cabin in Maine. And oh, we cheered. We made embarrassing posters ('will you marry me,' 'Hi, mom,' and others of that nature... I was prevented from penning a 'Get tested' poster) and screamed until my throat hurt- though that might be the swine flu.
The weekend was near flawless (apologies to the Mainers I didn't get to see, I was far off campus for the majority and pressed for time. Heck, I didn't even see Riles. That never happens.), though the same can't be said for Joe's logic. Joe was involved in a long Michael Jackson: Misunderstood vs. Creepy debate with Adam.
Jenny: I'm not even getting into this. Joe brings this up all the time and I always lose.
Adam: How can you lose!? This is the easiest argument to win. Name one thing that's harder to prove.
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