Where's My Future?

I have been working on this for years, since freshman year of college.  I remember working for the CSRC at the Bo', long before it became the Center for the Common Good.  It was my first job and first time in college, and I remember thinking that I needed to work on not calling Big Boss (who's actually little) "dude."  I remember failing at that, and also calling the Band Man "dude."  I remember graduating from college, stepping into the real world, and working harder than ever to not call anyone "dude."  There was one particularly awful encounter when I tried to stop myself from saying "goodnight, dude," to Doc Whitecastle, so that what came out of my mouth sounded like "goodnight, you," which intensified the awkwardity at least four fold.  Tonight, all those years of striving toward professionalism proved vain once again on a call with Doc Nice from Boston.  He is sort of a big deal now and I'm trying to work with him in the future.  So naturally, I ended a call  to him with "later, dude."  Because that's how you talk to directors of government agencies you're trying to impress.  At least that's how I've done it for years.

Two Letter Words

Playing Scrabble with Amber, who's quite vocal and indignant about her losses*.

Amber: What is 'za'?

Moi: Well, what kind of word is 'phew'?

Amber: Phew is like (hand on forehead), oh phew!

Moi: (lift up hand) Oh za!

*That's optimistic.  We've just started playing.  But I hope it will be a loss.

At Least We Didn't Play the Race Card

I had lunch with Carol, Mrs. Cho, and their ever growing boys today (well, Jim is slimming, but he's more of a man than a boy).  These are people I associate with home, food, and laughing a lot.  Though I should also associate my future healthcare costs with them.  At Jim's urging, I had brisket, wings, and 3 donuts.  

(Jim laments how he now laughs at laugh-track jokes in sitcoms and worries his humor is waning)

Moi: Well, yes, but you did just make a joke about bestiality and Sunday school three minutes ago.

Jim: I guess I still have my edge.

Mrs. Cho is always talking about how I like to challenge kids to Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble, so I'm pretty sure there were also a couple of blind children jokes tossed in there (not by me!) for good measure.  Wholly inappropriate, yes, but it harkened back to countless other chain restaurant meals before this one, out in the suburbs, with these people I love, and isn't that what Thanksgiving is all about?

How to Succeed without Really Trying

Here is what I love about professors:  Other than the fact that they are awkward and nerdy (are those words not synonymous?), if you just show a sliver of interest in their topics of expertise, they get all excited and start handing out references.  And that beats doing research.  Mentioned to Prof Papa that I was stealing one of his illustrations for a presentation and he wrote back with 2 citations.  Naturally. 

To Catch a Virus

I was in Boston for under 24 hours Tuesday-Wednesday.  When I first arrived, I joked with Dwighters that I was trying to catch the flu because I had a day of zooming through the MBTA ahead of me and was heading to the airport later in the afternoon (to meet up with Father, arriving back from Chinar).  On the busiest travel day of the year.  Despite having just arrived in town via plane/bus/subway.  Little did I know that I would indeed do all that, plus visit two hospitals, and ride in a cab. To ensure full germification, I also visited a mall food court, hung out with 3 teachers from 3 different schools, and walked in the rain without an umbrella. There was also a handshake with an 11-year-old boy somewhere in there.

Now it's a day later, Thanksgiving is over, I'm exhausted, feel like I had barely seen anyone I had meant to, and I feel a cold coming on.  I don't even know where to begin to pinpoint the sickness.  It could have been anywhere during my dash around town.  Or tonight, when I went to Logan for the 3rd time in 3 days (to pick up Mother- it's complicated).  Or dinner afterward in a crowded restaurant in Chinatown.  Good thing I'm not Gwyneth Paltrow, or else I'm pretty sure the world would end in 5-7 days.

Are Too, Brute?

In this season of Thanksgiving and flu-catching, I stopped by my old haunts to say hello, and naturally, bicker with Whitecastle (well, "bicker", or "define workplace boundaries"-- tomatoes, tomahtoes).  I thought I was stopping by the office to say hello, but Whitecastle gave me a 30 minute window and set it up as a work meeting.  So we discussed future projects-- even though I live in a different state now and go to a different school.  The worst part was, I want to do the project and it was a good idea to schedule an exact time.

Moi: Are you going to make some poor research assistants (RA) decorate your office again?

Whitecastle: All I did was ask for a little help, if anyone wanted to-

Moi: So we volunteered to help you move.

Whitecastle: I set these new monitors up by myself.  I'm down underneath my desk fixing things way more than the RAs.

Moi: I'm pretty sure no RA should ever be underneath your desk.

Hill Street Blues

A few days ago, when Eunice dropped me off, Jae saw my apartment complex for the first time, he said it was very "bougie."  I couldn't help but smile.  It reminded me of Boston.  And living in a Howard-like condo.  And all that razzing that came with being posh in the South End, all the farmer's markets and brunch spots and $10,000 flame retardant furniture in the common space.  Even as pictures from my window kept popping up in places like the Harvard Public Health Review to inform me that I was living in a food desert.  It happened against yesterday, reading the New York Times (natch).  The article was about a high school student from one of the "poorer sections" of Boston trying to get into college.  I had that de ja vu feeling again.  The accompanying photo collage of her rough neighborhood showed scenes from my commute for 3 years.  That was my CVS.  I walked the rough streets of Boston.  And now I'm doing it in B'more. 

Carrot Stickler

If you invite me over for dinner and served me a plate of carrots.  I will gamely swallow it without chewing.  I will not tell you that I hate cilantro, celery, and carrots almost as much as I do social injustice.  I try to keep my prickly food habits as unobtrusive and as private as possible (except, of course, when I announce it publicly here- but this is pretty much as private and low-traffic as the interweb gets).  Today, however, the truth came out.  And as always, this led to much disbelief and shaken heads.  Which was why I try to keep this secret in the first place.

Amber: How do you not like carrots?

Liz: You love food!  You go all the way to DC for special soup noodles, but not eat basic food that every child is given?

Moi: I'm not proud of it.

Amber: This is absurd.  I don't believe it.

And yet it's true.  I can't stand them.  When I discovered that the "Maryland crab soup" that I bought on Tuesday was just broth, carrots, celery, corn, and peas.  I drank the broth.  Tried to pick out as much of whatever else I could.  Then closed the soup and tossed out the rest of the vegetables.  It was all pretty tricky, because I did this in class, in front of Prof. Who, and was trying my best to look like a grown up.  But I managed.  I always do.

In Which I Only Understand Class Materials In Relation to Science Fiction

(the biostatistics professor reveals a 3-D graph)

Chris: Whoa.

Moi: This is trippy.  Like The Matrix.

Chris: Yeah.  Or Puss in Boots 3-D.

(advisor/prof got oddly philosophical during our patient outcomes course)

Prof Who: Some people say that all time are happening now, at the same time.

Moi (whisper to Julia): Whoa, like Lost.

Julia: Exactly like Lost.

Unproductive, Things That Are

Let's file this under "Things That I Should Not Be Doing Because I Have 3 Midterms To Prepare For, Nay, 4":  researching Pilot pens online, checking their availability in the U.S., then lamenting the dearth of good writing pens sold in the States.  Even though: I barely even take notes by hand anymore, I still have 10 unopened pens from my summer trip, waiting to be used, and did I mention the 4 midterms? 

Sweet Potato Fry

OK. You caught me. I'm just taking pictures of random objects and passing them off as posts. But I was especially proud of these fries tonight since I've had a hard time with fries in the past. They always took too long or were too burnt or soggy. But not tonight. I ate this plate (essentially one sweet potato) in minutes. Then immediately got hungry again and started rummaging through the fridge. In fact, I'm still hungry now. I'm not sure if I'll ever be full again. (Yes, that's my red yarn in the back. Sachini and I pretended we knew how to knit and went yarn shopping on Saturday. We got into the store, started looking through different weights and materials and numbers. Asked each other what our instructor had taught us. Then turned to the clerk for help. Because we have no retention capabilities.)

Palate Spectrum

Carnitas. I love carnitas. Yesterday, after a week of craving non-white people food, from katsu don on Monday to curry goat on Friday,
I finally got to satisfy my craving. (Don't get all uppity, White People, I crave your food, too. That's why Sachini and I sought out pierogies for brunch yesterday, only to be greatly disappointed.) I got the tacos to go and was pleasantly surprised to discover sides and sauces neatly packaged in little containers so my carnitas would not get soggy. I didn't understand how a city could be both less white and less ethnically diverse than the Bean Town until I got to B'more. But last night, I had these tacos to fill the Flour/Penang/Flames II/Bon Chon/Pho 88 shaped hole in my heart.

Conflict Resolution

 

Found these 2 signs outside the hospital, just a few feet apart.

Transformers

Sincere apologies for the gaps in postings, Gentle Reader. I have been preoccupied with procrastination. It takes a lot of time. Thought I'd present these pictures to show how funny Ballymore is. Every time I think I like it for what I see, I learn these quirks that just makes everything funnier. It can be so pretty on the outside, until you learn that the white statue in the back (the lesser Washington Monument) used to be open to the public to climb to the top for a view of the city. Why did they close it? Security reasons. Not terrorists, but too many muggings in the statue (it's quite genius when you think about it). And the picture below? Inside an elementary school in a preppy neighborhood. Doubtful that this is public health.

It Was the E-Coli

I went through middle school and high school in a strange town.  It didn't feel strange at the time.  It looked and felt like other well-to-do Massachusetts, well-to-do but not as tony as the old money towns with their obsessive academics and strict zoning rules.  We were small-time enough that when Wendy's opened up sophomore year, it became the coolest place to hang out for years.  And yet, it was a school where, at least when I was there, no smart kid was ever picked on (probably because we were so cool), there was no identifiable 'popular clique' (according to Nish, there were the "good preppy kids" and "the preppy kids who actually did things" and no one thought either was something to strive toward) and where the greatest slackers I knew also had the highest GPAs.

(on stalking people from high school on facebook)

Moi: He has two kids... and is politically conservative.

Chels: Whoa.  Politically conservative!?

Moi:  I did not expect that.  We always had the Jesus thing in common, but I thought his weird friends would have rubbed off on him.

Chels: Weird friends, yes.  But [our town] is kind of yuppy.

Moi: I keep forgetting that because of our weird friends.  We had an Animal Rights League.  (of which I may have been vice president, at least according to college applications)