Professor Papa -- one man, so many facets. Teacher, economist, and shameless promoter:
Prof Papa: This book was written with your parents in mind, because it explains what public health is. You go home on break, your parents ask you what public health is, and even after a year, you still don't really know. Well, now I want you to say, "Here, read this book." It's only about $20 on Amazon.
And public health defender (summarizing his words):
Public health is a thankless field. No one who's ever rolled into a field after a car crash writes to thank you for removing the trees. Unlike medicine, there're no heroes. If you go to the medical school, or any of the hospitals here, every wing, every waiting room, every closet, is named after somebody. People are just throwing their money at these places. What about us? How many buildings do we have? Four. What are two of their names?
That's right. Building 1 and Building 2.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
My Last Confession
Even though I spend my school days working out quantitative problem sets, playing with probabilities and risk ratios, we talk a lot about public hygiene. There is a sticker by every sink reminding us that hand washing is the cornerstone of public health (rather straight forward lesson for $50K, but who's counting?).
Which made what I did this morning all the more regrettable. The woman next to me in the church pew, I noticed almost right away, had the sniffles. The kind that required her to wipe her nose every 10 seconds, which she did with fast food napkins that must have felt so rough on her skin. She also had a cough. And did not abide by the elbow rule. As we drew closer and closer to the part of the service where we shook our neighbors' hands, I grew increasingly worried. I haven't learned much about health economics in the past few months, but I have learned to fear germs. Relief came, however, when about a minute before the greeting of neighbors, she pulled out her mini-Purell bottle. The sight of her rubbing her hands clean made me inordinately happy. Though the joy was short lived. Before the minute was up, she had to wipe her nose again. Then again. And she did not re-Purell.
But church is about welcoming people, no matter what state they're in, and really, even if I didn't believe in chicken-soup aphorisms, there was no avoiding shaking this lady's hand. So when the time came, I went for it. "Peace!" Then, figuring that I shouldn't flu alone, I shook the hands of everyone around me. Lord, have mercy on us all.
Which made what I did this morning all the more regrettable. The woman next to me in the church pew, I noticed almost right away, had the sniffles. The kind that required her to wipe her nose every 10 seconds, which she did with fast food napkins that must have felt so rough on her skin. She also had a cough. And did not abide by the elbow rule. As we drew closer and closer to the part of the service where we shook our neighbors' hands, I grew increasingly worried. I haven't learned much about health economics in the past few months, but I have learned to fear germs. Relief came, however, when about a minute before the greeting of neighbors, she pulled out her mini-Purell bottle. The sight of her rubbing her hands clean made me inordinately happy. Though the joy was short lived. Before the minute was up, she had to wipe her nose again. Then again. And she did not re-Purell.
But church is about welcoming people, no matter what state they're in, and really, even if I didn't believe in chicken-soup aphorisms, there was no avoiding shaking this lady's hand. So when the time came, I went for it. "Peace!" Then, figuring that I shouldn't flu alone, I shook the hands of everyone around me. Lord, have mercy on us all.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The Surfeit
While it is true that I ate my weight in starches and proteins on Thursday, and that I have more turkey than I know to do with, and there are cakes and cookies everywhere I turn in the apartment, Landlady Chang and I decided to ignore all these factors, as well as her own leftovers and the global recession, and host a hot pot party last night. With our very own dual-mala hot-and-clear-broth pot and everything.
That's all I wanted to share. My fingers are the only things I can lift anymore. And I'm about to have hot pot day-after soup for breakfast.
That's all I wanted to share. My fingers are the only things I can lift anymore. And I'm about to have hot pot day-after soup for breakfast.
The Surrogate
This year, both Landlady Chang and I were orphaned for Thanksgiving. We considered hosting a meal but figured it was easier to get adopted instead. So she headed for Wayland and I for Watertown, because we're suckers for W's.
I spent the day with the Chaos, a true testament to their name. We did not pace ourselves wisely, and by 5pm were all lying on the couch wondering if we'd ever eat again (then again at 7pm). Though I doubt anyone regretted starting with the sticky rice. And pomelos. And the constant snacking on Jess's unfathomably dense cookies. By the time the turkey and tenderloin were done, I was halfway there as well. But we soldiered on. It took three walks around the block to pump up for dessert, dessert that outnumbered people 2-1. When you're in a situation like that, there's no choice but to eat and balance out the numbers.
When all was said and done, the Chao minivan dropped me off at home, like so many other Thanksgivings before, and I trudged upstairs to Landlady Chang, declaring that we didn't have to cook again until Christmas-- only to find her awash in a sea of cookies and leftovers of her own. Adoptions are messy, yes, but also incredibly awesome.
I spent the day with the Chaos, a true testament to their name. We did not pace ourselves wisely, and by 5pm were all lying on the couch wondering if we'd ever eat again (then again at 7pm). Though I doubt anyone regretted starting with the sticky rice. And pomelos. And the constant snacking on Jess's unfathomably dense cookies. By the time the turkey and tenderloin were done, I was halfway there as well. But we soldiered on. It took three walks around the block to pump up for dessert, dessert that outnumbered people 2-1. When you're in a situation like that, there's no choice but to eat and balance out the numbers.
When all was said and done, the Chao minivan dropped me off at home, like so many other Thanksgivings before, and I trudged upstairs to Landlady Chang, declaring that we didn't have to cook again until Christmas-- only to find her awash in a sea of cookies and leftovers of her own. Adoptions are messy, yes, but also incredibly awesome.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
The Scooped
This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that my project appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association this week. Though it was unfortunate that I was not one of the co-authors. In fact, none of the docs I worked with were listed. Because we didn't write the paper. We had just been working on the same project since this spring, ignorant of their work, and about 6 months behind.
Whitecastle: It's the exact same study, they looked at the same fields, included about 240 in the analysis.
Moi: That's funny, we were looking at 240.
Whitecastle: Our study could've been published in JAMA.
Query (to me): At least we hadn't gotten to the analysis yet. So it's mostly your time that we've wasted.
Moi: This is hilarious.
Whitecastle: You could look at it that way, yes.
(we both laugh, loudly and at times uncomfortably)
Whitecastle: I'm glad you're laughing at this.
Moi: I'm afraid to stop.
Whitecastle: It's the exact same study, they looked at the same fields, included about 240 in the analysis.
Moi: That's funny, we were looking at 240.
Whitecastle: Our study could've been published in JAMA.
Query (to me): At least we hadn't gotten to the analysis yet. So it's mostly your time that we've wasted.
Moi: This is hilarious.
Whitecastle: You could look at it that way, yes.
(we both laugh, loudly and at times uncomfortably)
Whitecastle: I'm glad you're laughing at this.
Moi: I'm afraid to stop.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The Week in Numbers
P(rain this morning) = 0.10
P(rain this morning | I am walking outside without a hood) = 1
(don't question me on the math, people)
Times I've said "I shouldn't be eating out again-": 6
Times I've finished that phrase with "but what's another __ ($10, $20, $50) when I'm already $100G* in debt?": 6
In short: 1 hungry mother.
Conversations I've had regarding God, afterlife, and the meaning of it all: 1
Conversations I've had about the tragedy of Michael Jackson: 2 (happy to have another)
Flowers TA has drawn on my exam as a sign of approval: 1
A's said TA has given me: 0
*Only $50G in debt thus far, hoping to make it $100G if I don't get kicked out of school.
P(rain this morning | I am walking outside without a hood) = 1
(don't question me on the math, people)
Times I've said "I shouldn't be eating out again-": 6
Times I've finished that phrase with "but what's another __ ($10, $20, $50) when I'm already $100G* in debt?": 6
In short: 1 hungry mother.
Conversations I've had regarding God, afterlife, and the meaning of it all: 1
Conversations I've had about the tragedy of Michael Jackson: 2 (happy to have another)
Flowers TA has drawn on my exam as a sign of approval: 1
A's said TA has given me: 0
*Only $50G in debt thus far, hoping to make it $100G if I don't get kicked out of school.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
After the Beep
"Burying the lede" is a journalism phrase that I reference a lot. Because I like to sound like a journalist. And because people are often making that mistake.
My parents are currently in Asia, on a schedule 12 hours ahead of me. As is my brother. I haven't talked to them in about a week. All of this is OK us, so long as nothing goes wrong. Today in class, I receive a voice mail from a number I don't recognize. Already antsy for Thanksgiving break to begin and sleep deprived, the unknown number distracts me through lecture until we're finally let out and I check my messages. "Hello," she begins, "This is a friend of your mother's. Please call me." Long pause.
Did something happen? Are they OK? Maybe she just needs me to drop something off or pass a message?
"I'd like to speak to you." Another pause. "When you call, just say your name after the machine message and I'll know it's you and pick up-" What? This is sounding serious and vague.
"I just want to make sure you had somewhere to go for Thanksgiving."
Worst. Voicemail. Ever.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Oy Matey
Usually, when I go into the printer room (sidebar: I love that there is a separate room just for the printers. We did not have those at the Bo'. Perhaps my education is worthy of $50G), there are people already there, sorting through the stacks of print outs and cover sheets with our initials on it. We did not have cover sheets at the Bo' , so the experience is still jarring, but usually, a stranger will spot my initials, hand me my papers and say, "Is this yours?" Because I'm usually wearing a t-shirt that says "Insert Asian Last Name Here." Just as strangers approach me to speak Chinese on the street because I'm usually wearing a shirt that says "Ask me if I speak Chinese, because I can."
This morning, however, the girl in front of me glanced down at the piles and cover sheets, turned to me with a stack of papers and asked, "Are you A. Cohen?" No, I am not A. Cohen.
Tim: Was she white?
Moi: Of course, she was.
This morning, however, the girl in front of me glanced down at the piles and cover sheets, turned to me with a stack of papers and asked, "Are you A. Cohen?" No, I am not A. Cohen.
Tim: Was she white?
Moi: Of course, she was.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Fowl Play
There is an abundance of cakes in our apartment right now. But all the salty fries are gone.
If you ever go to Penang- the restaurant and not the city- and you'd like to make someone's day, you should order sticky rice duck. It gets the waitresses very excited. Ordering the duck casserole today, Dianah made the mistake of asking for sticking rice. This prompted our waitress to recommend sticky rice duck as vastly superior to duck casserole with sticky rice.
"Where is it on the menu?"
"It's not on the menu. It's a special item."
"What's in it?"
"Sticky rice. And duck."
"And the casserole- "
"No, the sticky rice duck is really good."
So we went for it, which made our waitress beam. Minutes later, another waitress stopped by and explained that the duck is special and cooked for five hours. They kept coming by to ask if we like the dish, laughed when we marveled at how big it was (we apparently ordered half a duck for the 2 of us), and repeating the five hour mantra. No one said anything about price...
If you ever go to Penang- the restaurant and not the city- and you'd like to make someone's day, you should order sticky rice duck. It gets the waitresses very excited. Ordering the duck casserole today, Dianah made the mistake of asking for sticking rice. This prompted our waitress to recommend sticky rice duck as vastly superior to duck casserole with sticky rice.
"Where is it on the menu?"
"It's not on the menu. It's a special item."
"What's in it?"
"Sticky rice. And duck."
"And the casserole- "
"No, the sticky rice duck is really good."
So we went for it, which made our waitress beam. Minutes later, another waitress stopped by and explained that the duck is special and cooked for five hours. They kept coming by to ask if we like the dish, laughed when we marveled at how big it was (we apparently ordered half a duck for the 2 of us), and repeating the five hour mantra. No one said anything about price...
Rehearsal Dinner
Every Bo' student knows that the 3 best meals of the school year come in the first semester.
I double dare you to think of a better food, people, and entertainment combination.
*Also loved the dining extras during reading period/exams, like smoothies and popcorn and espresso. They don't do that in grad school.
- The lobster bake on the eve of the first day of classes. Not my favorite and always left me hungry, but I feel obligated to list it, what with the whole lobster and all.
- The giant Thanksgiving feast right before Thanksgiving, which always concludes with a giant ovation for the staff. Yes, almost every school does it, but was your school voted to have the best dining hall 3 out of the 4 years you were there? OK then.
- The holiday feast right before reading period*. Just about the only time of the year we get duck. And guests won't feel ripped off paying the $17 to eat in the dining halls.
I double dare you to think of a better food, people, and entertainment combination.
*Also loved the dining extras during reading period/exams, like smoothies and popcorn and espresso. They don't do that in grad school.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Mind the Gap
Talking to my parents on the phone...
Moi: ... remember that project I did? It turned out that [Professor Papa's] undergrad thesis was on the topic I -
Mother: Does he have brains?
Father: What?
Mother: I mean, is he a man with brains?
Father: He's a Harvard professor. Of course, he has brains. Why would you-
Moi: ... and his research is fascinating- Hi. Are we still having this conversation?
Moi: ... remember that project I did? It turned out that [Professor Papa's] undergrad thesis was on the topic I -
Mother: Does he have brains?
Father: What?
Mother: I mean, is he a man with brains?
Father: He's a Harvard professor. Of course, he has brains. Why would you-
Moi: ... and his research is fascinating- Hi. Are we still having this conversation?
Heal Thyself
Are you looking for a primary care physician? Are you on a long waiting list for a specialist? If that's the case, I have some bad news. They're all too busy being at my school.
In addition to making money off of its poor sucker students, my school runs these physician leadership seminars to make money off of people who already have money. Lots of money. And they do it every other day. The classrooms across the hall from my lecture hall (I say "my" because I have all 4 classes in the same classroom- even when we split up to take exams, I am always assigned to that one room. It's all very Truman and I'm not even sure if there are other classrooms here. But I sure pay for them!) always have tables set up full of forbidden fruit. And forbidden yogurt. Coffee. Granola. Sandwiches. Cookies. Sparkling water. All sorts of other things we're not allowed to eat. They put up signs that say "for physician leadership only." And set up people whose sole jobs it is to shoo away hungry grad students.
The way my econ class has taught me to see it is this: we are not creating enough incentives for doctors to want to stay at their jobs and not come to these cushy seminars full of elitist food. So you, dear patients, must give your physicians a reason to want to see you. I implore you, people, make up exciting injuries, pay your doctors far, far beyond the $10 copay, and get yourselves a lower-cut shirt. Restore peace to my school. I get very hungry looking at scones.
In addition to making money off of its poor sucker students, my school runs these physician leadership seminars to make money off of people who already have money. Lots of money. And they do it every other day. The classrooms across the hall from my lecture hall (I say "my" because I have all 4 classes in the same classroom- even when we split up to take exams, I am always assigned to that one room. It's all very Truman and I'm not even sure if there are other classrooms here. But I sure pay for them!) always have tables set up full of forbidden fruit. And forbidden yogurt. Coffee. Granola. Sandwiches. Cookies. Sparkling water. All sorts of other things we're not allowed to eat. They put up signs that say "for physician leadership only." And set up people whose sole jobs it is to shoo away hungry grad students.
The way my econ class has taught me to see it is this: we are not creating enough incentives for doctors to want to stay at their jobs and not come to these cushy seminars full of elitist food. So you, dear patients, must give your physicians a reason to want to see you. I implore you, people, make up exciting injuries, pay your doctors far, far beyond the $10 copay, and get yourselves a lower-cut shirt. Restore peace to my school. I get very hungry looking at scones.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Left Behind
On a precious few Tuesdays, when there are no problem sets to go over, nothing to finish up at work, and no review sessions to attend, I get to leave campus early. It takes so much out of me, though, I wonder if it's worth it. No matter what time class ends (3:15, 3:20, 3:22), or what I do after class- head straight out, parting chatter, or, like this week- stop by the locker (I have a locker! it's like a real school), check my mail, bid my farewells, apologize for leading someone down the wrong path on a test question- I always see the bus pulling up the minute I step outside, still a good block away from the stop. Much like the good Lord, the shuttle bus schedule is mysterious and beyond comprehension. And the buses do not tarry. So I run for it. Have you ever 'run' down a sidewalk outside an academic hospital during the day? Do you know how many wheelchairs and trees and waddling old people in canes there are to delicately dodge (because courtesy always comes first)? I feel like I'm in a Jackie Chan market chase scene every single time. And do you know how embarrassing it is to be the only person who's out of breath and panting on the bus? I do.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Chairs! The Musical
When I grow up, I'd like to work at a place where we don't run out of chairs. A place where, if people did steal our chairs, we would notice. Then get the chairs back. And dart the thieves to show them we're serious. Apparently, I do not work at such a place. Filing into the conference room for a lunch presentation today, someone pointed out that the room seemed empty. It was true. We were missing a lot of chairs. Left in their place were many, many questions. Like oh, where are our chairs? There are rumors that it may have been those petty Women's Health people. But their conference was at least a week ago. Which means that it's either taken us at least a week to realize the loss, or it wasn't them. And even if it was them, how did they take out so many chairs without anyone's notice? What are they doing with them? How did they even get into the office? Whatever the answers, this is what we know: I work for a supposedly world-class hospital, in what is supposedly one of the premier research institutions in the country, and we're missing our chairs.
Moi: Where are those people keeping our chairs?
Young Bo': At the chair factory.
Why, of course.
Moi: Where are those people keeping our chairs?
Young Bo': At the chair factory.
Why, of course.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Things I Have Made This Weekend
PB & cranberry J.
Roast soy chicken. (on bread, natch)
Corn and black bean pancakes.
Stir-fried bok choy.
Scallion beef stir-fry.
Spinach and mushroom pizza.
Country-fried steak egg sandwich extravaganza.
What can I say, I'm a great procrastinator. Plus, 15 years from now, epidemiology can't feed a family of four. But roast chicken can.
---
Speaking of my bete noire, an oldie but a goodie-
Prof Little Man: The only time you should use this estimation if you're discussing this at a cocktail party and you don't have a calculator handy. Having a calculator would just be too nerdy.
Roast soy chicken. (on bread, natch)
Corn and black bean pancakes.
Stir-fried bok choy.
Scallion beef stir-fry.
Spinach and mushroom pizza.
Country-fried steak egg sandwich extravaganza.
What can I say, I'm a great procrastinator. Plus, 15 years from now, epidemiology can't feed a family of four. But roast chicken can.
---
Speaking of my bete noire, an oldie but a goodie-
Prof Little Man: The only time you should use this estimation if you're discussing this at a cocktail party and you don't have a calculator handy. Having a calculator would just be too nerdy.
Friday Flashback
I have been exiled in my room the past couple of days, studying biostats and preparing myself for defeat. So I'd appreciate it if we didn't dwell on the present (or the grim future).
Let's instead look back to Friday, a time before I'd realized how little I knew of biostatistics, a day when Grant (that's Doc McDarty to the rest of you) 'darted' a patient for the first time, thereby shooting him high up on my list of fascinating peoples of 2009 (two can play at this game, Barb). Take a moment now and let the significance of that sink in: Stuck a tranquilizer. Into another person. Stealthily. Like a ninja. Or a zookeeper. As a part of his day job. As a part of my day job, I graph things in Excel and use my TI-86.
But I digress. Freaky Friday. The best part wasn't even Grant, but getting my econ test back. Not because I'm an econ rock star (or even did well), but because I have the best TAs ever. In my test booklet, I had written pleadingly for them to grade mercifully "not for me, but do it for Grandmama Lee." When I got the booklet back, on the one question that I had gotten full credit, a TA wrote "Well done! G-mama Lee will be proud." Best education moment. Ever.
Let's instead look back to Friday, a time before I'd realized how little I knew of biostatistics, a day when Grant (that's Doc McDarty to the rest of you) 'darted' a patient for the first time, thereby shooting him high up on my list of fascinating peoples of 2009 (two can play at this game, Barb). Take a moment now and let the significance of that sink in: Stuck a tranquilizer. Into another person. Stealthily. Like a ninja. Or a zookeeper. As a part of his day job. As a part of my day job, I graph things in Excel and use my TI-86.
But I digress. Freaky Friday. The best part wasn't even Grant, but getting my econ test back. Not because I'm an econ rock star (or even did well), but because I have the best TAs ever. In my test booklet, I had written pleadingly for them to grade mercifully "not for me, but do it for Grandmama Lee." When I got the booklet back, on the one question that I had gotten full credit, a TA wrote "Well done! G-mama Lee will be proud." Best education moment. Ever.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sweet
My neighborhood is full of fancy cafes. And galleries. Condos. Boutiques. Etc. Unfortunately, overpriced baked goods is the only one I can afford. Just barely at that. I usually have the wherewithal to resist South End Buttery, Appleton Cafe, and even Flour. But I can't resist Haley House. Despite my heart and resolve of steel, I'm still human- powerless to resist their coconut shortbread cookies. Plus, their whole operation is volunteer run, with proceeds going to the adjacent soup kitchen. Food that alleviates hunger, that's just bloody brilliant. Yesterday, remembering that Meghan the Rock had the "best cupcake of her life" there, I picked one up after work and skipped all the way home.
"Are you sitting down?" I asked Landlady Chang as I kicked off my shoes.
"Yes."
"You better stay that way, we're having do-gooder cupcake."
And so we both sat down, each with half a coconut cupcake on our plates, on opposite ends of the dining room table. It was great, and the passion fruit layer really kicked it up a notch, but I wouldn't say best ever. Just top 8. We ate. We listened to Kiss-108. And we talked about Thanksgiving. Pretty good for a Wednesday afternoon.
"Are you sitting down?" I asked Landlady Chang as I kicked off my shoes.
"Yes."
"You better stay that way, we're having do-gooder cupcake."
And so we both sat down, each with half a coconut cupcake on our plates, on opposite ends of the dining room table. It was great, and the passion fruit layer really kicked it up a notch, but I wouldn't say best ever. Just top 8. We ate. We listened to Kiss-108. And we talked about Thanksgiving. Pretty good for a Wednesday afternoon.
Occam's Razor
Mother just phoned me to ask if I had made my bed before I had left home this past weekend. Because she found my room in a mess (totally being dramatic- all's I did was not make the bed, leave a shirt on the floor, and the closet door open). Had it not been me, Mother's next logical explanation was that someone had broken into our house, hung up clothes in my closet, and lived in my room the past 3 days. All the whilst unbeknown to her. "And that would scare me to death," she said.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Le Diner de Cons
I may or may not have used this title; the google is giving me conflicting messages. Either way, don't say this in class, Claire. It has a not-nice word.
A few months ago, to demonstrate the sampling powers of Stata, our professor used the program to randomly draw 8 names out of the hundred-plus students in the class. Those lucky students would have dinner with him. I was one of those students. For everyone else in the group, tonight was a chance for the professor to get to know them, earn brownie points, and get a free meal. A win-win-win. But I beat the odds and lost on all 3.
Things went downhill almost from the start:
Waiter: Would anyone like anything to drink?
Prof: Go ahead, guys, feel free to order whatever you'd like.
Moi: Vietnamese coffee, iced.
Everyone else at the table: "Water" "Water" "Water"..."Water"
Prof: I'll just have water, please.
Then there was Captain Bloody Heart:
Moi: Interesting, everyone is getting pho. (I got vermicelli)
Bloody Boy: I just love that stuff.
Moi: I do, too, but I don't trust broth I haven't tested. (1. Not in a Vietnamese neighborhood, 2. has the name of an herb in the restaurant name, and 3. all English menu- you'd be suspicious, too)
Bloody Boy: Oh, I've learned to eat whatever is given to me. After spending time in Kenya, I'm grateful for all food.
Hearing this, I couldn't decide between throwing up or slapping the boy (brass knuckles seem severe, Zvi), but everyone else regarded Captain Bloody Heart with fondness, so I held my tongue. This allowed the professor to turn to me for my one-on-one spotlight of the night:
Professor: So do you believe there should be one China?
Totally bringing brass knuckles to class.
A few months ago, to demonstrate the sampling powers of Stata, our professor used the program to randomly draw 8 names out of the hundred-plus students in the class. Those lucky students would have dinner with him. I was one of those students. For everyone else in the group, tonight was a chance for the professor to get to know them, earn brownie points, and get a free meal. A win-win-win. But I beat the odds and lost on all 3.
Things went downhill almost from the start:
Waiter: Would anyone like anything to drink?
Prof: Go ahead, guys, feel free to order whatever you'd like.
Moi: Vietnamese coffee, iced.
Everyone else at the table: "Water" "Water" "Water"..."Water"
Prof: I'll just have water, please.
Then there was Captain Bloody Heart:
Moi: Interesting, everyone is getting pho. (I got vermicelli)
Bloody Boy: I just love that stuff.
Moi: I do, too, but I don't trust broth I haven't tested. (1. Not in a Vietnamese neighborhood, 2. has the name of an herb in the restaurant name, and 3. all English menu- you'd be suspicious, too)
Bloody Boy: Oh, I've learned to eat whatever is given to me. After spending time in Kenya, I'm grateful for all food.
Hearing this, I couldn't decide between throwing up or slapping the boy (brass knuckles seem severe, Zvi), but everyone else regarded Captain Bloody Heart with fondness, so I held my tongue. This allowed the professor to turn to me for my one-on-one spotlight of the night:
Professor: So do you believe there should be one China?
Totally bringing brass knuckles to class.
Father Knows
Times when it's useful to have a preacher father:
-Sunday School (teachers are nicer to you).
-Weekends (too busy to notice whatever you're planning).
-Christmas (so many presents, though they're usually cheap chocolates).
Times when it's not useful to have a preacher father:
-Sunday School (teachers expect you to be "mature" and a "role model" and "stop picking on the new kid").
-Weekends (so many hours at church).
-Any time Father brings God into the argument.
Moi: With [brother's] vertigo due to allergies and my skin allergies, we have some terrible genes. And who do we have to thank for this?
Father: Are you blaming God? Are you saying your Creator didn't make you right?
-Sunday School (teachers are nicer to you).
-Weekends (too busy to notice whatever you're planning).
-Christmas (so many presents, though they're usually cheap chocolates).
Times when it's not useful to have a preacher father:
-Sunday School (teachers expect you to be "mature" and a "role model" and "stop picking on the new kid").
-Weekends (so many hours at church).
-Any time Father brings God into the argument.
Moi: With [brother's] vertigo due to allergies and my skin allergies, we have some terrible genes. And who do we have to thank for this?
Father: Are you blaming God? Are you saying your Creator didn't make you right?
Split Ends
Dear Times.
Life would be so much less fun without you. An article today indicates that this man just got an expensive hair cut but I feel like this is a page from Highlights and I'm failing to spot 5 differences.
PS. I guess there's still fat to trim at The Times. This is your second story on the same topic in as many months.
Life would be so much less fun without you. An article today indicates that this man just got an expensive hair cut but I feel like this is a page from Highlights and I'm failing to spot 5 differences.
PS. I guess there's still fat to trim at The Times. This is your second story on the same topic in as many months.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Can't Take My Eyes off of You
Last night, I watched Duplicity with my folks. In one scene, Clive Owen (why else would I rent the movie) said that he "can't believe" something and Mother spoke up...
Mother: He said "cahnt." I thought only British people pronounced it that way. Americans say "can't."
Moi: He is British, Ma.
Mother: Really? I hadn't noticed.
Moi: There's only 10 minutes left of the movie.
Mother: He said "cahnt." I thought only British people pronounced it that way. Americans say "can't."
Moi: He is British, Ma.
Mother: Really? I hadn't noticed.
Moi: There's only 10 minutes left of the movie.
Hallway Dolorosa
I can tell how many Chinese families are living in the building by the smell of the hallway as I walk by. Unfortunately, by the smells of it, they're all better cooks than I am. And are reminding me of foods I haven't even thought of eating in years. I've got to start befriending these people.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Flavor of Love
Unlike many Asian Americans, I don't think there's a culture chasm between my parents and myself, nor consider any undue pressure put upon me by them (the latter might explain my total lack of achievements). Like them, I was born in Taiwan and we generally understand each other. At least that's what I thought.
Father and Mother are visiting both my g-pops in Taiwan so I wanted to buy some Haaaahvuhd gear for them to bring back (can I go a week without mentioning the name of my school? unlikely) The maternal g-pop was easy to shop for: tie, mug, presto, and Bob's my uncle. My dad, however, claims that his father is more finicky (I wonder if it's more the son than the father). No shirts. No small print. And nothing "too practical." Blanket? Pennant? Sweatpants? No, no, and no. Finally, after hour sof scouring, Landlady Chang and I picked a nice looking clock. Big, impractical, and can easily draw visitors' attention so Ah-Gong (grandfather) can then tell people about his brilliant granddaughter in America (because really, this is about me). Perfectly fitting? Perhaps. Perfectly offensive? Absolutely.
Apparently, as I learned last night, Chinese people don't give clocks as presents. "Silly superstition," Father said, while Mother went with "you'll get beaten to death." Either way, clock giving is just not done. The phrase "give a clock" is homonymous with the phrase "sending to the grave" and while I could probably get away with giving a clock to my parents, it's definitely a no-go for 91-year-old Ah Gong. Sweatpants it is then.
---
Even with superstitions aside...
Mother: (responding to Father's sneeze) That's what you get for not wearing your jacket.
Moi: For the gazillionth time, you can't catch the cold by being cold.
Mother: Yes, you can. You always get colds when it's cold.
Moi: People are more susceptible to getting sick when it's cold because that's when the flu season is and they're more likely to be staying inside and sharing the same air with people, leading to easier virus transmission.
Mother: That's no true. It's from the cold. And I forgive you.
Father and Mother are visiting both my g-pops in Taiwan so I wanted to buy some Haaaahvuhd gear for them to bring back (can I go a week without mentioning the name of my school? unlikely) The maternal g-pop was easy to shop for: tie, mug, presto, and Bob's my uncle. My dad, however, claims that his father is more finicky (I wonder if it's more the son than the father). No shirts. No small print. And nothing "too practical." Blanket? Pennant? Sweatpants? No, no, and no. Finally, after hour sof scouring, Landlady Chang and I picked a nice looking clock. Big, impractical, and can easily draw visitors' attention so Ah-Gong (grandfather) can then tell people about his brilliant granddaughter in America (because really, this is about me). Perfectly fitting? Perhaps. Perfectly offensive? Absolutely.
Apparently, as I learned last night, Chinese people don't give clocks as presents. "Silly superstition," Father said, while Mother went with "you'll get beaten to death." Either way, clock giving is just not done. The phrase "give a clock" is homonymous with the phrase "sending to the grave" and while I could probably get away with giving a clock to my parents, it's definitely a no-go for 91-year-old Ah Gong. Sweatpants it is then.
---
Even with superstitions aside...
Mother: (responding to Father's sneeze) That's what you get for not wearing your jacket.
Moi: For the gazillionth time, you can't catch the cold by being cold.
Mother: Yes, you can. You always get colds when it's cold.
Moi: People are more susceptible to getting sick when it's cold because that's when the flu season is and they're more likely to be staying inside and sharing the same air with people, leading to easier virus transmission.
Mother: That's no true. It's from the cold. And I forgive you.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Friday Night Slight
Today, Doc Greene alluded to the "broken window theory" whilst talking to Young Bo'. The reference was lost on her. But me, while I do not subscribe to the theory, it's been so long since I'd discussed sociology with anyone that instead of trying to pretend that I wasn't eavesdropping, I shouted, 4 cubicles down, "Yes! Broken window! Soc!" -- which I now realize isn't even a complete sentence. I am the coolest kid. Ever.
Speaking of cool kids, I just hung out with a few that are not, having dined with Dwighters, Liz, Emo, and the Landlady. While I'm not bffs with any of them, I can't imagine 4 people I'm more comfortable having dinner with. I trust their judgments on what's wrong and what's funny. And they're usually both. (Except for Dwight's V-neck sweaters. Nothing wrong there.) We went to Border Cafe, where I freaked Emo out by predicting her every move (queso, empanadas, guac, no sauce, and drink to go- I'm very Robin Williams in One-Hour-Photo) and where we had a waiter who we thought Emo had charmed. He was gracious, quick with banter, and kept bringing us free sides and refills-- until we saw the bill. And realized that nothing was actually free. He was just a guacamole pusher. Now I wish I could go back and spit in his food.
Speaking of cool kids, I just hung out with a few that are not, having dined with Dwighters, Liz, Emo, and the Landlady. While I'm not bffs with any of them, I can't imagine 4 people I'm more comfortable having dinner with. I trust their judgments on what's wrong and what's funny. And they're usually both. (Except for Dwight's V-neck sweaters. Nothing wrong there.) We went to Border Cafe, where I freaked Emo out by predicting her every move (queso, empanadas, guac, no sauce, and drink to go- I'm very Robin Williams in One-Hour-Photo) and where we had a waiter who we thought Emo had charmed. He was gracious, quick with banter, and kept bringing us free sides and refills-- until we saw the bill. And realized that nothing was actually free. He was just a guacamole pusher. Now I wish I could go back and spit in his food.
Call Him Ahab
Every once in awhile, we get a gem of an econ class and Prof. Papa goes off rantingin a well planned, predetermined manner. Today was such a class.
On economic incentives:
"... it's like whaling. If you don't kill them, someone will, kill them fast, kill them now, let's get rid of them."
On public health initiatives:
"Other than 'oh, we like children,' why do we need immunization?"
On jobs in public health:
"All I'm saying is, from the supply and demand side, good luck."
More on saving children:
"If we get paid depending on how many lives we control, then we should really be paying school traffic controllers, or else a truck will come and they'll be all, "come on, come on, it's safe."
And if economists sound callous...:
"Most people don't like to talk about buying people, so let's talk about robots."
On economic incentives:
"... it's like whaling. If you don't kill them, someone will, kill them fast, kill them now, let's get rid of them."
On public health initiatives:
"Other than 'oh, we like children,' why do we need immunization?"
On jobs in public health:
"All I'm saying is, from the supply and demand side, good luck."
More on saving children:
"If we get paid depending on how many lives we control, then we should really be paying school traffic controllers, or else a truck will come and they'll be all, "come on, come on, it's safe."
And if economists sound callous...:
"Most people don't like to talk about buying people, so let's talk about robots."
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Ex Post Hazard
Discussing posterior probabilities in Decision Analysis today, Ashley- the most intriguing nice desk buddy I've met at school so far- turns to me and says, in all seriousness, "Posterior sounds funny." "I know, it means butt." And we giggle like the Haaaavuhd students we are.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Reason #3828 I'm Not Acing Biostats
Moi: Whoa, we've had Obama as president for a year? (yay) I guess change...
Landlady Chang: Takes more than a year?
Moi: ... and feels like no change?
Landlady Chang: Does that mean we only get him for 3 more years?
Moi: No, don't say that, you mean 5 years!
Landlady Chang: 5 years? Not 3?
Moi: Oh, I did the math wrong. I mean 7 years. We get him for 7 years. (yay...)
Landlady Chang: Takes more than a year?
Moi: ... and feels like no change?
Landlady Chang: Does that mean we only get him for 3 more years?
Moi: No, don't say that, you mean 5 years!
Landlady Chang: 5 years? Not 3?
Moi: Oh, I did the math wrong. I mean 7 years. We get him for 7 years. (yay...)
Lame Bird
A bird flew into my shoe today. I was walking down the street, as I do every morning, and these two sparrows sprung up from the ground. One was successful. The other hit the sole of my shoe. (and then managed to fly up) Weirdest bird interaction ever. I turned around to look for someone to share the WTH moment with, but no one else on the crowded sidewalk seemed to have noticed or heard the very loud thud. A bird hit my shoe!
Monday, November 02, 2009
Crimson Commiseration
I love a boss who promises to "physically beat" people for me. I really do. I just wish he wasn't such a damn overachiever the rest of the time.
Whitecastle: Your average in that class should be over 100.
Moi: Um, no pressure or anything.
Whitecastle: Come on, the class is a cakewalk. I think I got 110.
The problem with going to school right across the street from where I work-- and it's a huge problem-- is that everyone at work has been through it. Everyone knows about the courses I'm taking. Has worked with my professors. And everyone is taking away my one great pleasure of school: Complaining about the academic rigors of Haaaaavuhd University. It's the one thing I have to hold on to, people.
Whitecastle: Have you learned SAS yet?
Moi: No, I've only been in school for a month.
Whitecastle: It's been 2 months. You said you've already had exams.
Moi: In accounting. I can balance a balance sheet.
Whitecastle: That's not going to help you. Unless you drop out and have to balance books.
First Father, now Whitecastle, why must everyone equate accounting with dropping out? I am so lacking in positive reinforcement today.
Whitecastle: Your average in that class should be over 100.
Moi: Um, no pressure or anything.
Whitecastle: Come on, the class is a cakewalk. I think I got 110.
The problem with going to school right across the street from where I work-- and it's a huge problem-- is that everyone at work has been through it. Everyone knows about the courses I'm taking. Has worked with my professors. And everyone is taking away my one great pleasure of school: Complaining about the academic rigors of Haaaaavuhd University. It's the one thing I have to hold on to, people.
Whitecastle: Have you learned SAS yet?
Moi: No, I've only been in school for a month.
Whitecastle: It's been 2 months. You said you've already had exams.
Moi: In accounting. I can balance a balance sheet.
Whitecastle: That's not going to help you. Unless you drop out and have to balance books.
First Father, now Whitecastle, why must everyone equate accounting with dropping out? I am so lacking in positive reinforcement today.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Staff of Life
For years now, Grace Fellowship's salty cracker and white grape juice combo has been my communion service of choice: tasty crunch with just the right touch of sacrilegious (though not as funny as North Harbor's Challah baby), hygienic (no backwash a la P&G), and easy for newcomers to figure out. I've always found two things daunting about visiting new churches: Sunday School and communion. While hymns and creeds are easy to mumble through, every church does Sunday School and communions differently. This morning, after a year of attendance, I discovered that Park Street has 2 distinct communion routines for morning and evening services. Naturally, I went through an internal WTH, church? meltdown while trying to act cool externally and tried to catch glimpses of my neighbors' movements while pretending to be in deep reflection like everyone else. Not cool, G. Not cool. But in the end, the man next to me passed the plate and I picked up the bread like a pro-- bread that turned out to be tiny shortbread squares and much better than what's served the evening service. Unorthodox, yes, but buttery delicious, and, much like Jesus, heart of my own heart, infinitely good.
To recap: Savory crackers out. Shortbread in. What's your favorite communion set up?
To recap: Savory crackers out. Shortbread in. What's your favorite communion set up?
Cabbage Patch Men
On Friday, I got to have lunch with Maria. It was awesome, as most Bo' reunions are. I wicked appreciate people like Maria, or JAB, in my life, who are just a little bit ahead of me and give me a taste of what's to come.
On Friday, I also got to have dinner with a bunch of crazies. Ever since I left W-ford and the Bo', I have had fewer and fewer vegetarian friends, to the point that at our dinner on Friday, we had beef and two kinds of chicken. Even the salad had salmon in it. Jo, however, was still hanging out with vegetarians and brought one into our midst (a union man, Mainer, and the only person to be born in Wiscasset in 1983-- we pretty much could have been best friends had he not been a vegetarian). In a frenzy, Katy dispatched Kevin to Shaw's to pick up something vegetarian, pasta perhaps. Kevin did not pick pasta. He picked up stuffed cabbage. Because that was the first vegetarian entree that came to mind. He also thought it satisfied our orange-theme criteria for the night. The red sauce did not. It also didn't satisfy the vegetarian requirement. In fact, beef was the first ingredient. Though "beef" might be being generous. The cabbage roll did not look like recognizable food. It only reminded us of very bad things, things that garner protesters outside the Brigham every Thursday.
A final tally of the day:
Maria: +50
Kevin: -200
Shaws: +$5.99
Vegetarian: Hungry
Unions: -15
Roe v Wade: -22
On Friday, I also got to have dinner with a bunch of crazies. Ever since I left W-ford and the Bo', I have had fewer and fewer vegetarian friends, to the point that at our dinner on Friday, we had beef and two kinds of chicken. Even the salad had salmon in it. Jo, however, was still hanging out with vegetarians and brought one into our midst (a union man, Mainer, and the only person to be born in Wiscasset in 1983-- we pretty much could have been best friends had he not been a vegetarian). In a frenzy, Katy dispatched Kevin to Shaw's to pick up something vegetarian, pasta perhaps. Kevin did not pick pasta. He picked up stuffed cabbage. Because that was the first vegetarian entree that came to mind. He also thought it satisfied our orange-theme criteria for the night. The red sauce did not. It also didn't satisfy the vegetarian requirement. In fact, beef was the first ingredient. Though "beef" might be being generous. The cabbage roll did not look like recognizable food. It only reminded us of very bad things, things that garner protesters outside the Brigham every Thursday.
A final tally of the day:
Maria: +50
Kevin: -200
Shaws: +$5.99
Vegetarian: Hungry
Unions: -15
Roe v Wade: -22
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