Joe Somebody

A few people have been airing complaints about my quips this week. I stand by my principle of only operating at the level of my audience.

Whitecastle: That's just a way for journals to get more money out of poor academics.

Moi: Like academics have anything better to spend money on.

Whitecastle: Like my mortgage?

Moi: Psh, mortgage-

Whitecastle: Shmortgage? That was predictable.

That low grade burn was not so predictable. But it's good to have Whitecastle back. Two weeks ago, I gave him a cookie and all he said was 'thank you'. It made me very uncomfortable.

Potent Quotables

By the end of May, I would have taken 15 classes in my first year at school. It was easy at the Bo', the days of the Band Man and Riles and Walty, but coming up with 15 nicknames a year is hard. I'm pretty proud of Prof. Rafa and Papa, but have no names for my current four thus far. Though I've discovered that every lecture can generally be categorized in one of three ways:

The self deprecating:

"Do we have any chalk? Of course not. Why would I? This is Harvard."

The me-deprecating:

"Nurses and medical technicians today have a starting salary of $60,000 with a bachelor degree, but you guys would be lucky to- well, you made a mistake."

And the ridiculous:

"When we were setting this definition at the WHO..."

"Eight countries have approached me to shape their health care reform."

But Not Least

For magical reasons that are unclear to me (because I don't know magic), my first name does not appear in the school directory.  This makes it very difficult for people to stalk me.  It also explains why people think my last name is Lawrence.  Mostly though, it leads to many emails in which people address me by my first name as if it's my last.  No matter how I sign my emails. 

Yes, I realize that I have not strung more than a few sentences together for an entry since school has started, but in my defense, I was the first person in line at the bookstore today to buy a textbook, and the ego is too fragile to construct narratives.

Loop Dreams

Seven courses and 21.25 credits into my first year and of course, my first solid A would come in SAS Programming.  (And my two worst grades in epidemiology, as in the study that is a part of the name of the research division I've worked for since graduation). 

Lesson learned: listen more to Sister Claire and far less to Whitecastle and the other docs.

Devil in the Details

From "Individual Rights versus the Public's Health- 100 Years after Jacobson v. Massachusetts," New England Journal of Medicine, W.E. Parmet, RA Goodman, and Amy Farber, 2005:

... Dr. Immanuel Pfeiffer, who had become infamous in February 1902, when he contracted smallpox after visiting Boston's smallpox hospital on a dare from the director of the Boston Board of Health.

The lengths people will go to conceal their crushes.

Arabia, by Way of Taiwan

Ashley is one of my favorite new school people.  She's amazingly kind and funny.  And special.

Ashley: I wanted to email you over break but realized that I didn't know your last name.  Is it Lawrence?

Close.  So close.

On the one hand, I wish Partners in Health would stop sending depressing emails every day. On the other hand, I hope they never do. That it's never comfortable enough to forget.

Soul (Food) Mates

Have I mentioned that school has started? It has. Today, our prof let us know that our health care issues course was going to focus on evaluating the reform implementation process, but due to the events of the last week, that's not happening anymore. Then she told us about her first job out of school and how close they got to reform 30 years ago. All of this could have depressed me, but I was too busy being hungry.

Moi: She was talking about solutions outside of the market but lost me once she said "food stamps."

Marie: I know. I was thinking of all the things I could buy at the grocery store.

Moi: I was thinking of the hot food buffet at S&S. It doesn't accept EBT.

Take It Slowly

It's my second first day of school (of the school year). That sentence had a lot of qualifiers. Point is, the spring term starts today. My first class is in 19 minutes. Yet I am sitting here, updating this. You see, I thought I was so ready for this term. I bought new notebooks. I halfheartedly cleaned my room. I checked the course website and tried to buy books early. And then I relaxed. Apparently, too soon. Just discovered that there's a good 100 pages of reading I need to do for today's classes that are not going to get done. And there's school tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that, too. Each with its own readings. And joys.

Week in Review

This week, I've ridden SUV, cab (sedan), Amtrak, commuter rail, subway, bus, and mini-van.

I've gone to an engagement party, a baby shower, and received two wedding Save-the-Dates.

There was Jamaican chicken, Korean fried chicken, roadside chicken, Indian chicken curry, Italian chicken sausage, and probably some Chinese chicken in there, too, though I can't be sure.

I played 40 games of Super Mario Wii and lost 75% of the time. But whupped up in baby shower anagrams.

My face turned red with lunch wine, dessert champagne, midnight beer, and random questionable orange post-fried chicken alcohol drink (which was sneaky and unfair). Thus proving that empty stomachs don't matter. Neither does drink frequency. The redness is a curse to stay. A curse that even parents and their friends find it funny.

Before Beauty

Last week, I complained about feeling old amongst kids I used to babysit. But I forget how much fun it is to hang out with people who've known me for years. Like the good folks of BP. One of the best things about hanging out with BP'ers is that no matter what, sooner or later, the conversation turns to past staff. And having been on TBPM periphery for so long means that I have seen a lot of staff through the years. Like one Sir Abshire.

I've mentioned this before, but I like to tell people that Dusty and I became friends when I was in the eighth grade (it was the week of my graduation- I had to skip a day to speak at my graduation) and he was my college-age counselor. Because that sounds shady. Just like telling people I live with my former service camp counselor.

Tonight, I brought out the same line and story, only to be called out by Glenna. And Glenna is a code I haven't been able to crack in the last 10 years. Her smarts can stun me into silence.

Glenna: Are you saying that I'm old? Because he's younger than me.

Moi: ... the quiche was delicious?

Throwing on My Louis Vuitton

Surprisingly recent pop reference in the title. Good for myself.

It's been awhile, Dear Diary. And I don't have much to say except that I have been incredibly busy. Which is great, because school starts on Monday. What better way to prepare for the craziness than get myself worn out right before it all begins again?

My good friends know that one of my favorite winter accessories (after my Puma legwarmer scarf that I lost last year) is my fake Louis Vuitton scarf. I'd rather it didn't say Louis Vuitton on it, but I like the colors, it's warm, and so obviously fake and uncharacteristic that I get a kick every time I wear it.

(on the subway in NYC)

Zvi: Did you see the guy next to you?

Moi: No.

Zvi: He had the same Louis Vuitton pattern. Except he had the purse. And you wore the scarf.

Of course, New York. Of course.

Think it Twice

So, I voted this morning. Then I think my dad canceled mine out. Though I can't be sure. A lot of people's votes canceled mine out. And then I got dropped off in Boston. Ate lunch. And thought, let's do this in New York. So I hopped on a train and here I am. On a weeknight. No concrete plans. (everyone apparently works or goes to school-- who knew I had such responsible friends?) And I'm pretty psyched for tomorrow.

Walking the Plank

This Friday, I was invited back to the church youth group of my... youth, as an esteemed speaker. A little over 10 years since Jon and I were Adam and Eve in a church summer camp production, we came together again to give a talk to middle and high schoolers about identity.

Sitting there in the youth room and witnessing the shrieking during the ice breaker, I turned to Mrs. Cho, the same sarcastic counselor of my youth, and asked, "How does this not make you feel old?" "I do," she said, "every week." She wore Velcro DC sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt that night, prompting many smart remarks from us on her skate park ways. And a lot more not-as-smart jibes from the youths.

Judge not, that ye be not judged. This morning, sitting on a pew at my father's church (not to be confused with church of youth or Pastor Paul's church... I was in many houses of worship this weekend), one of my own youth group kids came up to me and passed judgment on me, my kicks, and my entire identity.

"I thought you were a skater boy."

"I'm wearing an orange cardigan and a pea coat-"

"And you sound tired."

"Thanks."

"I'm just saying, I saw your sneakers and your hair and I thought you were a skater boy."

"Really, thank you."

Righteous Brothers

At church this morning, Pastor Paul announced that he had a rebuke to issue. Just a mild one, he said, but a rebuke nonetheless. Pastor Paul, I learned, had been out of the country for the last couple of weeks, and did not have much internet access. In his absence, he felt that the church had become lax in some areas. Perhaps just one in particular: he felt that the church had failed in not praying hard enough. For the Patriots.

Going with the Flow

Late Thursday night, I got back to the home home after my parents' had already fallen asleep. It'd only been a couple of weeks since I'd been there so I didn't expect much of a change. I was therefore surprised to find a big shopping bag in my room, filled with little boxes.

Boxes of tampons. Apparently, Mother is not only crazy, but she hangs out with crazy people. They're attracted to each other by scent. A friend of her friend likes to stockpile on things like feminine hygiene products. She, however, has hit menopause and now finds herself without any use for her boxes. So my mother took them in. Because she has a use for them. That use being to pass along to her daughter. I've shopped at Costco, people, and this is beyond Costco. I have 15 boxes of tampons. Mother suggested I "give them away to friends to share."

So, friends, if anyone needs a box, just give a holler. It'll be the best present from my mom's friend's friend to my mom to me and that I could pass onto you.

5:30PM-6:30PM

I had simple plans for my evening last night: home, frozen pizza, call Thomas, church. But it was not meant to be. Instead, I got started on the frozen pizza and realized that my phone was missing. First Landlady Chang called it. Then I got on IM with Jen and discovered the phone was at work. Then I got on Landlady Chang's phone and discovered that I had dinner plans. Via IM, Jen and I concocted a brilliant phone drop plan that had me rushing downtown and waiting for her train to pass by Park Street at just the right time then run upstairs for my dinner meet. It was all very complicated and timed precisely. In the end, I was even early for church. If my life was television, all that would have aired during sweeps, because it was that fast paced. You're welcome, world.

Slow Down, Joneses

Prof. Papa is a fit man and a funny man, so sometimes you can almost forget that he's old. But some times, it's at the forefront.

Prof. Papa: And now they've got these new things- blue DVDs?

Moi: You mean blu-ray discs?

He then posed similarly adorable questions about facebook and twitter and I beamed. Too bad I've completely run out of fake questions to ask him. It's going to have to be awkward chance hellos for the next 18 months.

There was apparently a shooting by the home home the other day. Everyone keeps asking us about it and me and the folks keep saying "What happened?"

It's completely bugging me right now that I can't remember a really funny comment someone made at dinner tonight. It was either Keith or David. Might be Dwighters, but probably not. (only men can be funny, of course.) If I could I'd share it with you.

But I'm the Customer

I can't quite put my finger on this. There's nothing obviously wrong with the cover art, the grammar, the manufacturer, or even the taste (Landlady Chang: "It tastes like Taiwan.") so maybe it's the well worn wrapping or my own prejudices, but something is off about this bar of chocolate Mother gave me. There are some proportions that are just not right.

Head Game

What's grosser than spotting a rat in the park? Spotting a dead rat.

And what's even more disturbing than spotting a dead rat? How about the head of a dead rat? And since rats don't really have heads, it was more the bloody face stump of a rat. Threat of crime, walking alone late at night, old drunks-- none of that bother me has I walk through the park but now, for the first time, I'm afraid of going by that park.

My bad streak with librarians/bookstore clerks continues. Not only did my librarian not know who Evely Waugh was today, but once he saw my name and he turned and asked, "Do you have a brother who's a pharmacist?" "Nope. Not at all." "Oh, I know someone by that name and just thought..." Yeah, I know a few people as well.

In Cold Weather

Watched It's Complicated last night. I'm not proud of the choice. But Meredith's friend's story got me through the movie. Her friend, you see, went to see the movie about divorcee parents having an affair with her divorced mother. And ran into her dad and stepmom at the same movie.

Afterward, we were all craving food and headed over Lizzie's for ice cream. Well, all except Alison who kept talking about how cold it was and how she just came back from "70 degree weather" on the "West coast" and this "isn't normal." It all reminded me of this picture:

Fleece and hoodie vs. giant parka

And this conversation I had with a mom the other night, at midnight, because the woman has no sense of time. Or cold. The woman is coming from Taiwan to Boston with her daughter:

Stranger's Mother: Is it cold there?

Moi: (again remembering the picture) It's not bad right now, but it will be in the teens and twenties Farehnheit when you arrive.

Stranger's Mother: Well, we brought hats and scarves.

Moi: (trying to roll my eyes but eye lids were too heavy with fatigue-)

Stranger's Mother: Teens and twenties... is that like five, ten degrees Celsius? That's not so bad, right?

Moi: Um, no. It's below zero Celsius.

Stranger's Mother: Oh.

Such Low Heights

Like a misbehaved/dyslexic child, I was sent out of line at the post office today.  Twice.  The first time I reached the counter, the lady thought my zip code looked wrong.  Then looked up the zip code of a town in a different state on the computer.  Then handed me a giant book of codes and told me to come back later, without waiting in line.  As I have expressed before, I have trouble with things in alphabetical order and always have to sing that stupid song.  Plus, the listings were in alphabetical order by state names but only the initials showed on every page.  Very confusing.  Alas, the town I needed was not listed where I should expect it, but the surrounding zips looked close enough that I didn't think I had a problem.  So I tried to go back to the counter.  Except that the lady ushering me just ended her shift.  And I had to go back to the end of the line.  When I finally got to the counter again and explained why I had the post office's book of zip codes (from 2003, by the way), the new lady explained that I had to search from the index by the front of the state section.  Not the front of the book or the back of the book.  Because post office books don't operate under the same principles and conventions as normal books.  She flipped to the right page.  But instead of waiting the five seconds for me to scan down for the right number, had me step out of line yet again.  At that point, I really wanted to pull out my student ID and explain that I could both read and count and this whole thing shouldn't be that complicated.  But I stepped aside, and let the system take its course. 

The snow is coming down in big flakes but not accumulating.  Just the way I like it.

Chasing the Dragon

I just found my allergy pills in my drawer and re-discovered that they are blue. Which means that the white pills I've been taken for the past week were not allergy pills. If anyone could shed light on what they are, that would be hugely helpful. Thanks.

PS. Today's my parents' wedding anniversary. Everyone wish them well.

Downhill Both Ways

Went sledding again last night. Different hill. Different folks. And not these pictures. These are from last week. It was too dark last night for any good pictures. And at the end, I didn't want any photographic evidence of our night. It took some awkward maneuvering for Kev and I to both go down the hill on the same saucer. And now Helsinki won't stop talking about me losing my pearls.

On that note... it appears that after a semester of gamely fighting off germs, my immune system has decided that Winter Session would be all right for getting sick. All the time. And so I'm nursing my second cold of the month. At least I got free pizza tonight. And speed communion at church. It was like normal communion, except 10 times faster. So you had to chomp down the body of Christ as you walked down the aisle back to your seat. I'll tell you about it sometime.

Grey Ghosts Anatomy

Islets of Langerhans.

Thank you, Mr. Casserly. That came in handy last night in Scattergories: body parts that start with I. Sometimes, when the occasion arises, I can still nerd it up with the best of them.