Look, Ma!

(photo 'courtesy' of the New York Times)

I don't have the words for this, so I'm going to let The Times say it themselves:

BALANCE bikes, long popular in Europe, are making inroads in the United States as a way to teach children to ride a two-wheel bicycle without the need for training wheels. The bikes do not have pedals; instead, toddlers use their feet to steady themselves, propel forward and brake. Eventually they learn to coast — and balance.

A bike without pedals. This means that the children are walking a ~$100 toy. In the words of Laura, "God, people, go save a starving child."

Second Not Helpings

After class, we went to the Pig for drinks per usual and got on the subject of a great many things, including opportunity cost, University-wide sled dogs, and fries. Most people at the table were eager to try the Pig's truffle fries, but remembering Zvi's experience, I worked very hard to dissuade everyone from ordering because the fries just weren't it. They were reluctant, but after a hard battle, they listened. Like that weekend in Atlantic City, I should've quit there and gotten home with a clear police record. But I campaigned for curry fries. I had some awesome curry fries at Emmet's on Sunday night and wanted to relive the experience. I did not relive the experience. Instead, I had to first explain that it wasn't my Asian accent, I didn't want curly fries, I wanted curry fries. Second, most people were repulsed by the idea of curry fries (blasphemous, I know). And most regrettably, when the fries came, they reminded Meredith of her cat's puke. Actually, Meredith wasn't the only one. The Pig is great with many things, but when it comes to curry fries: epic fail. To make matters worse, I had to leave early and just realized that I forgot to pay for the fries. Pretty sure that when I go back to school tomorrow, I won't have any friends. Nay, I'm getting yogurt dropped on my head.

Squealing Fries: 2. Moi: 0. Zvi Shapiro: -49482.

Monday Mumble

Some Monday miscellanea.

1. Running to the Boston Book Festival on Saturday, I overheard these college kids snickering, saying, "Look at these nerds coming out of their holes." I was indignant at first, until I realized that they were talking about the Comic-Con event also in town. Ha, losers.

2. Since coming back from the book festival (surprisingly crowded. unsurprisingly pretentious) and failing to impress Richard Russo with my Richard Ford connections (granted that I have none), I now want to do nothing else but read. Except when I pause to watch this clip, over and over again:




3. Every state has a health insurance plan for poor children, usually known as some variant of CHIP. But not Vermont. They call theirs Dr. Dynasaur. Spelled that way, of course, to appeal to children and parents. When I grow up, I want to be a Dr. Dynasaur.

4. Another wisdom nugget from Prof Papa: "One of the great things about teaching, especially at a research university and not a teaching one, is that I can talk about whatever I want and no one really cares. Like today, I want to spend some time talking about one of my biggest pet peeves: dental insurance."

Young Grasshopper

Our inspirational message of the day is brought to you by Doc Whitecastle.

Whitecastle: ... School's not so bad, right?

Moi: School is so much work!

Whitecastle: If you had worked hard as an RA, school probably wouldn't seem so hard now.

Moi: But if you can get by with less, why bother?

Koy Inexpressible

If you looked up the word 'perfect' in the dictionary, you will not see pictures of my day. But it'd only be because dictionaries don't work like that, plus it'd be super creepy, but my day should have been in there.

It started with oversleeping, an accounting final, and McTalkie, the most annoying kid in the program, making a fool of himself once again. (He doesn't deserve a 'Mc' prefix a la Grey's, Lu just likes adding 'Mc' to names.) But the exam was more straightforward than expected, I got to talk Richard Russo with school kids over Friday drinks and oh, minor detail-- Asian Grub Crawl.

It started with Korean fried chicken (at first not as awesome as I remembered, then the awesomeness picked up and I could not stop eating). But Du and Lena insisted that bubble tea was "on the way." So we stopped for tea. And decided to supplement the fried chicken with noodles. That was the plan at least. By the time the chicken was done and I met up with Du and Lena again, all of us miraculously converging at the same time, they had noodles, soup dumplings, and pajeon, i.e. glorious O glorious seafood pancakes. And kimchi. So we walked in the autumn dusk, just brisk enough to be comfortable, and talked of winter hot pot parties. Somehow, as we were nearing the apartment steps, Mac arrived, again timed perfectly.

Of course, we washed down all the great food and warm fuzzies with... Gone with the Wind. Because Lena is insane. And when all was said and done, I came home to find a check in the mail. Addressed to Koy.

Over Time

Well, my fellow Americans, our long national nightmare is over. No, not the recession or war on terror. Nay, we have slayed a greater monster: Epi 201. All week long, the take-home it hung over us like a dark cloud and finally, it lifted. After a two-hour discussion session of our exam, of course, just to provide that last bit of discomfort. The whole anticipatory process was like Reverse Christmas. We were waiting for a big reveal, all right, but a terribly painful reveal.

Once 10:30 struck (my clock strikes on the half hour), though, nothing seemed as bad as before. We talked through the discussion (to distract ourselves from finding mistakes on our exams), refused to raise our hands, fidgeted with our gadgets, and I even made an Epi Fortune Teller to share. What I mean is, we all handled the releasing of stress like incredibly mature graduate students.

So goodbye, Rafa, your class brought endless hardships, but also endless entertainment, and fostered a camaraderie with 120 kids far beyond my expectations (e.g. the end of 201 was mentioned as a praise at our fellowship meeting). I imagine this was what Nam must have been like. 202 starts on Tuesday.

(while writing an answer on the blackboard, Prof. Rafa's chalk made an ear-piercing screech)

The Class: (Very loud, audible wince x 120)

Rafa: Believe me, it bothers me more.

This Side Up

The sun was out today. It's late October in New England. It didn't have to be out, but there it was, bright and warm, almost as if I could trust it again. We took advantage of this rare gift and sat outside for lunch. I love that I have lunch tables again. It's about the only perk of school. (Nay, Prof. Papa is also a perk. Though not today. Amy and I both missed 10 minutes to slumber.) I have no funny stories from lunch. We hardly even talked the last 20 minutes. Just sat there, soaking it all in. Winter is a coming, and we ain't no grasshopper.

All American Reject

I have a take-home final that's due tomorrow morning.  A take-home final that (obvs) I cannot discuss with anyone.  I have had the exam since Friday.  The suspense of it all is killing me.  Thursday cannot come fast enough.  But Friday better stay away.  Friday is exam time.  In fact, God, if you could pull another one of those sun-never-sets tricks on Thursday afternoon, I'd be much obliged.

Doc Query: The paper looks really good, I think we have a shot at JAMA.

Moi: I don't know.  You've promised that before.

Doc Query: ... and I got it published in JAMA, didn't I?  That's not bad.

Moi: Well, the first one, yes, but the second one-

Doc Query: It's not that I can't get JAMA to accept the second paper.  I can't get anyone to accept it.

Pulsating Pulpit

I grew up in the church. Three of my uncles, one of my cousins, and both of my parents are preachers, so I've heard a lot of sermons in my time. Yet I'd never seen a preacher so excited as Gordon this morning, so captivated by what was to come in his own message that he exclaimed, "This [next point] is even better. You'll love this. Wake up!" Best sermon moment ever.

The Super Sugar

Once again, my title is a reference to an inside joke between me and myself (a handful of people may remember, but you're probably not one of them).

I have been experimenting with pork and beans of all different flavors and consistencies this past year (cannellini with rosemary, sweet and spicy with black beans, etc.) and by golly, I've gotten it better than right this time. It doesn't even matter that the picture is dreadful. That you can't tell that the pork was roasted with onions, oregano and garlic, that there's bacon and Coca-Cola in there, because you can't eat this anyway. There's no way I'm sharing this with anyone. Not even Landlady Chang.

[One day, Kiefer may come upon this post at this site and we may either laugh about this or share a very awkward silence. My instincts say it'll be the first because Kiefer is so bitingly funny and laughs so easily, but I'm pulling for the comedy of the latter. Whilst gathering intel on a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend today, Kiefer reported that a kid as "a super Christian" "with a blog." And made the most disdainful face to both counts. I had to break it to her that I, too, was a Christian, ("But are you a super Christian? I'd been meaning to meet on of you!") but didn't have the heart to tell her that I also kept a blog. One skeleton at a time. One skeleton at a time.]

Entrenched

It is Saturday. Which means Hulu.com and brunch, problem sets and econ chapters, procrastinating, cooking, studying, and walking that tight rope of relaxation and working-- a rope that I too often fall off of, careening too far into repose to be productive. This weekend was to be my big Michigan outing, a giant road trip with the Park Street folks I'd been talking about for months. Instead, I am home. Just back from dim sum with school friends. Because it's Saturday. And I have finals next week. Because I'm a student now. It's not bad, but it's different. We talk about things like the "school of public health fist bump" that Mary et al invented. (Make like you're about to bump fists, stop, air pump two squirts of Purell, rub vigorously, then go in to finish the bump. I plan on greeting everyone like this.)

(talking to a different Mary and Decision Scientist at work this week...)

Moi: I get to go home right now while y'alls work for another hour.

Mary: Rub it in, why don't you.

Moi: And when I get home, I'm going to do homework for 3 hours.

Decider: Yeah, that backpack looks rather large...

Baby Got Back (Pains)

Additional things that it now hurts to do:

Dry hair.
Put socks on.
Chase (unsuccessfully) after bus that decided to leave early.  With a backpack on.  In the pouring rain.
Ride the bus.
Stand.
Get out of bed.
Homework.  (it's always hurt to do homework)
But nothing even compares to putting my sneakers on.  And then trying to tie the shoelaces.  I'm breaking into cold sweat just thinking about it now.  I imagine child birth will be a similar experience.

Things that do no hurt to do:
Sleep.

How do you do it, Claire?

That's a Wrap

At dinner last night, I ordered a side of asparagus and a bacon-wrapped sirloin...

Mother's Friend: You know what my friend taught me? Bacon wrapped asparagus. It's very good.

Mother: Bacon wrapped pineapple is also good.

Mother's Friend: Bacon wrapped shrimp.

Moi: How 'bout we just say that bacon wrapped anything is good?

Mother: Bacon wrapped scallops.

(We stay on topic for a few minutes longer until finally, Father and Mother squabble over whether bacon is 'in' right now, or was always in, or was in and then made a comeback. Reason #84773 I don't live at home.)

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Moi: ... yeah, that's just how I roll.

Upperclassman's British BF: Ha, I say that, too. Because I sound ridiculous when I say it.

Moi: Oh, it sounds ridiculous when I say it, too. That's the fun.

UBBF: But that's just how we roll.

Damaged. Not Good.

I sprained my back today. What adventurous task was I performing, you ask? Oh, sitting in my cubicle and typing. Not exactly sure what happened, but here is a list of things it now hurts to do:

Sitting
Typing
Putting my pants on
Walking
Picking things up from the floor
Turning
Folding laundry

1-2-3

Whitecastle: Have you had exams yet?

Moi: Yeah, I had one yesterday.

Whitecastle: How can they be testing you already? You haven't learned anything.

Moi: Yeah, that's what the tests have shown, too.

Old Men and My C's

Yesterday in class, Prof Papa (not to be confused with Prof Rafa)
mentioned orphan drugs and my heart stopped beating for a second.
Though I think that's part of the regularly rhythm of heart beat. He
asked if anyone knew who they were and I happily answered, perhaps the
first and only time my past 2 years has come in handy in econ, and
only for that brief second. In fact, I'm not even sure if he heard
me. The economic incentives for supporting orphan drugs aside, he
said some profound things in class yesterday, and I, of course, jotted
them down instead of drawing demand curves like I should have.

(on price discrimination)

Prof Papa: What has 4 i's but cannot see? Discrimination.

(on cartels and price fixing)

Prof Papa: Cheating in a cartel is like cheating in affairs- sooner or
later, everyone finds out.

Professor Rafa, on the other hand, just struggles with the mic.

Student: We can't really hear you.

Prof Rafa: (fidgets a little) Is this better?

Student: Yes.

Prof Rafa: Good. Because I didn't do anything.

And his command of class...

Student: I think people are confused because they think the question
is whether A causes L, not Y.

Prof Rafa: But that's not what I asked.

Student: I know. I think they just think-

Prof Rafa: I'm trying to earn the freedom to ask the questions how I
want, but everyone keeps changing my questions.

Missing Link

Dear Girl Who Sold Me My Biostat Textbook:
  It was very nice of you to sell me the book at a discount price.  You were so kind and helpful I almost believed we could be friends.  Would have been nicer, still, however, had you informed me that all the tables of Appendix A, which I need for my exam in 14 minutes, had been ripped out.  Or if you didn't rip them out in the first place.  (Or that I discovered this more than 10 minutes ago.)  I'll be billing you the first quarter tuition expenses if I flunk out of school.

Sincerely,

Margin O'Error

Weekend Wonders

Calves! Just as adorable as expected.

The burgers weren't wonders. That I was able to resist them was. In my third year, I finally learned self control- passing up the burgers so I could have more deviled eggs (EB's aunt makes them every year), chili, lasagna, rice, quiche, and every kind of cookie, brownie, and pie.

Footloose: Most tiring song ever.

It's Moo Time

(3rd) Annual pilgrimage to Vermont. Spent the weekend in the barn.

Company Line

I was at school for a full 8 hours today, starting at 8:45 am. Only 2 hours were actually spent in class, another 1.5 hours in exam-- the rest was spent either cramming for, or commiserating with one another regarding, our first econ exam, an exam that felt like the seminal event of the month. We had heard for weeks on how hard (yet nicely curved) the class was, and today was our first chance to see for ourselves. Even the pass/fail kids (who I alternate between envying and hating) were freaking out. Second years tried to calm us down, those who weren't in the class cheered us on, and in the end, we all went out for drinks (except for newly sober me who had water). Favorite piece of conversation today? "I heard Atul Gwande failed this class*."


*An obvious lie, but I love going to a school where we joke about Jeffrey Sachs and Atul Gwande, one of whom apparently loved this very econ class.

Marginal Utility

Thank you, Internet. Like I needed one more form of procrastination. Or one more reason to crave fast food.

I haven't had MacDonald's in about 5 years. At first, I didn't realize it. Then I thought "I've gone this far, might as well keep going" (was also studying globalization at the time- damn you, Band Man!). I didn't miss it for years. Now I miss it McNuggets, Big Macs, and fries terribly. And that Angus burger isn't helping, either.