This has nothing to do with anything. I don't even like this lady's show. But my heart keeps melting every time I watch this. Granted, there isn't much of my heart left to dissolve into puddles since I've spent the day in my new flannel pajama pants listening to Adele, and after my heart breaks to tiny shards from her songs, I have been watching videos of that new polar bear cub everyone's been talking about to melt the tiny remnants. It's a painstaking process, but hey, that's what vacations are for.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Back to the Past
There are certain immutable facts about me that suddenly become mutable once I am home home. Facts like I am an early riser who doesn't like to sleep too late. That I tend to eat at least 3 meals a day, around the same time each day. Or facts even more basic than that. Like how I am an independent being, a near grown-up, if you will, with my own free will.
This afternoon, as it sometimes happens when I am home, I got stuck in Mother's vortex of chaos and bad ideas. Mother, you see, has a history of complicating simple plans and of tricking me into joining her on errands I don't need to be involved in, which provides company for her but wastes a lot of time for me. This afternoon, Mother convinced me to go out with her, ostensibly to watch a movie (I saw this ruse from a mile away, but that darn conscience always gets me when I try to say no to her), though first we stopped at her gym so she could pay for some classes. And then she stopped at a different household, for your usual marital counseling. Which was how it came to be that her friend had to come by and pick me up, because who knows how long the counseling would go on, and drop me off at Father's office at church. Where I am currently killing time, eating his snacks, waiting for my mom, like I used to do when I was 12.
This afternoon, as it sometimes happens when I am home, I got stuck in Mother's vortex of chaos and bad ideas. Mother, you see, has a history of complicating simple plans and of tricking me into joining her on errands I don't need to be involved in, which provides company for her but wastes a lot of time for me. This afternoon, Mother convinced me to go out with her, ostensibly to watch a movie (I saw this ruse from a mile away, but that darn conscience always gets me when I try to say no to her), though first we stopped at her gym so she could pay for some classes. And then she stopped at a different household, for your usual marital counseling. Which was how it came to be that her friend had to come by and pick me up, because who knows how long the counseling would go on, and drop me off at Father's office at church. Where I am currently killing time, eating his snacks, waiting for my mom, like I used to do when I was 12.
Say Hello, Goodbye
I said goodbye to my grandfather this year. I was glad that we got to have some semi-nice moments together this summer between his delusions to talk about his childhood, read psalms, even pray together. Our last words were probably something along the lines of "I have to go now," "OK, go," but they sure beat the last words my grandmother ever said to me, which was something along the lines of "you have gained weight." I didn't realize this before, but having dead grandparents (in the plural) means taking back everything we have ever given them, the photos and clothes and whatnot, because who else was going to hang out to those mementos now? Consequently, a lot of Bo' and H'Bomb gear are now floating around our house.
Looking back, 2011 has been, fittingly, a year of 1sts. Though it would have been more fitting if it was a year of 11ths. But alas, my memories cannot count that high, so we'll focus on the firsts. Like living south of the Mason Dixon for the first time. Or visiting South Korea and Malaysia for the first time. There, I had take out delivered to a park and a giant abscess on my leg, respectively, both for the first time. I graduated from my first grad school and entered my first doctoral program. Neither were exciting moments in themselves, but they sound important when I tell other people. I was commissioned to make a film for HPM orientation and write a poem for a wedding-- both firsts were highlights of the year because they blended words and friends together. I also published in NEJM (perhaps the last? let's hope this research career works out) though again, it didn't feel that special, it's just fun to tell med students who think they're smarter than I am. Basically, I remember 2011 as a blur of mad studying and applications with spots of genuine goodness in between. Nothing much to write home about, but not bad, not bad at all.
Looking back, 2011 has been, fittingly, a year of 1sts. Though it would have been more fitting if it was a year of 11ths. But alas, my memories cannot count that high, so we'll focus on the firsts. Like living south of the Mason Dixon for the first time. Or visiting South Korea and Malaysia for the first time. There, I had take out delivered to a park and a giant abscess on my leg, respectively, both for the first time. I graduated from my first grad school and entered my first doctoral program. Neither were exciting moments in themselves, but they sound important when I tell other people. I was commissioned to make a film for HPM orientation and write a poem for a wedding-- both firsts were highlights of the year because they blended words and friends together. I also published in NEJM (perhaps the last? let's hope this research career works out) though again, it didn't feel that special, it's just fun to tell med students who think they're smarter than I am. Basically, I remember 2011 as a blur of mad studying and applications with spots of genuine goodness in between. Nothing much to write home about, but not bad, not bad at all.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
It's What's for Dinner
(we're all preparing to leave for the Christmas eve service, it's about 5:30pm and none of us has had anything to eat since lunch)
Father: So we're not having any dinner tonight?
Mother: Well, there's nothing to eat, so there's no supper.
Let me pause for a second so you can marvel at this clever, circular logic. I am recording this here to remind myself in the future of this get-out-of-cooking excuse when I become responsible for feeding other souls. If you don't cook dinner, there is no food to eat, and without food, dinner is moot.
Father: So we're not having any dinner tonight?
Mother: Well, there's nothing to eat, so there's no supper.
Let me pause for a second so you can marvel at this clever, circular logic. I am recording this here to remind myself in the future of this get-out-of-cooking excuse when I become responsible for feeding other souls. If you don't cook dinner, there is no food to eat, and without food, dinner is moot.
Little Man
Xiao is a tall kid, incredibly bright, and at least according to his parents, a bit of a chronic under achiever. He'd always been one of my favorites at Father's church (though they were technically all my favorites), because even if he wasn't particularly well behaved, he was great at taking in sarcasm and had a quiet je-ne-sais-quois amused contentment around him (gosh, I hope he wasn't high). Two days ago, Xiao went missing. His dad called up his church friends and one by one, they all said that they thought Xiao was with someone else. Until finally, Xiao himself called home.
What happened? It was all quite Jesus-at-the-temple, really, a perfect story for the season. Xiao fell asleep at church during rehearsals for the Christmas pageant. No one noticed. It happens sometimes with well behaved children. So everyone left and locked up. He woke up about an hour later. Found the church dark and empty and offices locked. Having left his phone at home, he managed to walk about half a mile to the gas station in the dark, use the pay phone, and got his dad to pick him up.
I can sense that you want to congratulate the boy and his worried parents for their reunion, marvel at the boy's wits, and laugh at whatever friend's mom that left him behind, so perhaps I should mention something else about Xiao. He's a freshman in college.
What happened? It was all quite Jesus-at-the-temple, really, a perfect story for the season. Xiao fell asleep at church during rehearsals for the Christmas pageant. No one noticed. It happens sometimes with well behaved children. So everyone left and locked up. He woke up about an hour later. Found the church dark and empty and offices locked. Having left his phone at home, he managed to walk about half a mile to the gas station in the dark, use the pay phone, and got his dad to pick him up.
I can sense that you want to congratulate the boy and his worried parents for their reunion, marvel at the boy's wits, and laugh at whatever friend's mom that left him behind, so perhaps I should mention something else about Xiao. He's a freshman in college.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
The Movie, Or The Musical?
Merry Christmas, y'alls. During a particularly brisk Christmas eve service tonight, I flipped through my notebook in the midst of the usual pageant mishaps (accidental solos by adorable children, broken heater, random Napoleon quotes during a performance) and found this gem from the fall:
(We were en route to church in Taiwan. Father was telling Mother to ride with Aunt, while the rest of us would ride with Uncle)
Father: You two should ride together. That way you guys can talk and catch up.
Mother: And what will we talk about?
Father: You know, hair and whatnot.
(We were en route to church in Taiwan. Father was telling Mother to ride with Aunt, while the rest of us would ride with Uncle)
Father: You two should ride together. That way you guys can talk and catch up.
Mother: And what will we talk about?
Father: You know, hair and whatnot.
See You When I See You
I met up with Amy on Wednesday. I arrived at the Harvard T stop at the appointed time and called her to let her know which exit I was waiting at-- the one next to Out of Town News. I tell you this as a way of setting an example. A few minutes later, I learned via email from stolen Starbucks wifi that Amy had lost her phone and would be super late. She would meet me, she said, if I ever get the message, "at the Dunkin Donuts near Harvard Square." Which was a lot like saying "I'll meet you by the hospital in Longwood." Or "the bookshelves in the library."
This was Massachusetts, after all, which part of Harvard Square, and just which Dunkin Donuts? In fact, every time I have told this story, someone has named a different Dunkin Donut. "The one near Grafton Street?" "Thank God I didn't even think of that one." "At least she didn't say Starbucks," Emily said (though Google reveals that there are slightly more Dunkins in the area). I bumped into Emily en route to what I thought of as "the Dunkin near Harvard." She convinced me to wait in the one inside the station. That was, until I bumped into Christine, who convinced me to wait for the one by the IHOP (because the one in the station isn't technically near Harvard Square, it is in Harvard Station). An hour, one hot chocolate, and many twists and turns around Cambridge later, I found Amy, who waited in blind faith in the one in the station for 15 minutes before I found her. We ate a late lunch. Then ate some more even when we weren't hungry, because that's what you do at an Indian buffet. Then we had dessert even though we weren't hungry. Because that's what you do with free birthday desserts from Finale. Then we parted ways and had dinner even when we weren't hungry, because that's what you do with friends.
This was Massachusetts, after all, which part of Harvard Square, and just which Dunkin Donuts? In fact, every time I have told this story, someone has named a different Dunkin Donut. "The one near Grafton Street?" "Thank God I didn't even think of that one." "At least she didn't say Starbucks," Emily said (though Google reveals that there are slightly more Dunkins in the area). I bumped into Emily en route to what I thought of as "the Dunkin near Harvard." She convinced me to wait in the one inside the station. That was, until I bumped into Christine, who convinced me to wait for the one by the IHOP (because the one in the station isn't technically near Harvard Square, it is in Harvard Station). An hour, one hot chocolate, and many twists and turns around Cambridge later, I found Amy, who waited in blind faith in the one in the station for 15 minutes before I found her. We ate a late lunch. Then ate some more even when we weren't hungry, because that's what you do at an Indian buffet. Then we had dessert even though we weren't hungry. Because that's what you do with free birthday desserts from Finale. Then we parted ways and had dinner even when we weren't hungry, because that's what you do with friends.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Party Down
Not that you can see their faces, but I don't actually know anyone in this picture. The whole scene was just so Christmas-y and cheerful though, that I could not resist snapping a picture. I'm not a complete creepster. I was with my friends, sitting on the couch between songs. This was how I spent my Saturday night. It was EB's wedding and we were in Vermont at a little inn. It was so cute and picturesque it was almost unbearable. Though the classiness of the 'after party'- with the double stuffed Oreos, pub cheese, and $3 wine did balance out some of it. What can I say, I get down with the best of them.
I'm Bach
Dear Diary and Assorted Friends and Cyber Friends,
The com-poo-tah tells me that this month has been the least prolific I have been since this Dear Diary came into existence-- pretty astounding considering that I spent at least a couple of months in Chinar, where this site is blocked. This means Grad School Part Deux has managed to stifle what Communism could not, namely, my steady stream of awkward encounters. But have no fear, Gentle Reader, I am home on break now. I went to a wedding last weekend (the most lovely and relaxed wedding weekend ever, and the most I have ever danced to a live country rock band), and will head to another this weekend. I will also be heading into Boston to see friends and most likely, Old Work Work, and I can bet you $10,000 that awkwardity and hilarity will ensue at at least one of those encounters.
In the meantime, I am home, procrastinating from Whitecastle's work (why else did you think I was writing this). I have a pot of carnitas sizzling on the stove top. I had a breakfast of cheese and salamis. And I may die of a heart attack before my next post. But if I live through it all, I will be back here, ready to share.
The com-poo-tah tells me that this month has been the least prolific I have been since this Dear Diary came into existence-- pretty astounding considering that I spent at least a couple of months in Chinar, where this site is blocked. This means Grad School Part Deux has managed to stifle what Communism could not, namely, my steady stream of awkward encounters. But have no fear, Gentle Reader, I am home on break now. I went to a wedding last weekend (the most lovely and relaxed wedding weekend ever, and the most I have ever danced to a live country rock band), and will head to another this weekend. I will also be heading into Boston to see friends and most likely, Old Work Work, and I can bet you $10,000 that awkwardity and hilarity will ensue at at least one of those encounters.
In the meantime, I am home, procrastinating from Whitecastle's work (why else did you think I was writing this). I have a pot of carnitas sizzling on the stove top. I had a breakfast of cheese and salamis. And I may die of a heart attack before my next post. But if I live through it all, I will be back here, ready to share.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
All Grown Up
I keep forgetting to take pictures of my orzo because I keep eating it. It is delicious. On Monday, with too much food in the fridge before winter break (two days away and yet it seems much farther off), I decided to make "grown up" food. Orzo with bail cream sauce, sauteed mushrooms and tomatoes. And a side of sauteed broccolini. Yeah. That's how I roll now. Of course, the act (and surely this is only an act) would be a lot more convincing if I did not have Digestive biscuits for breakfast, followed by cookies as a snack. But hey, it's finals week and I'm fully entitled.
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Present Value
Despite postponing my birthday dinner until February, Alene insisted on buying me a birthday drink today, which was super sweet, though it wasn't clear if I was actually on her mind.
Moi: Just a small mocha would be awesome.
Alene: Why not a large? I want to get you a large.
Moi: I don't want to drink that much liquid.
(later, Alene returns with a generous size cup)
Moi: That's not a small, is it?
Alene: It's a medium. We compromised.
Thanks, Alene! And thanks to the rest of my hungry cohort, who devoured all the brownies and gluten-free pound-cupcakes I brought, so that there isn't much to share with the Bible study folks tonight. To be fair, Amber did most of the gluten-free damage-- even as she complained about the hard cheese in the cakes, she steadily kept at them, as if they don't have cakes in Australia.
Moi: Just a small mocha would be awesome.
Alene: Why not a large? I want to get you a large.
Moi: I don't want to drink that much liquid.
(later, Alene returns with a generous size cup)
Moi: That's not a small, is it?
Alene: It's a medium. We compromised.
Thanks, Alene! And thanks to the rest of my hungry cohort, who devoured all the brownies and gluten-free pound-cupcakes I brought, so that there isn't much to share with the Bible study folks tonight. To be fair, Amber did most of the gluten-free damage-- even as she complained about the hard cheese in the cakes, she steadily kept at them, as if they don't have cakes in Australia.
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
And Many More
Dear Blog,
Oh, what else is new? I have not updated in a week and I am aging precipitously. Tomorrow, I will have aged a whole other year. Though my actual birthday dinner/get-together will be postponed for 2 months. Because my birthday, per usual, falls amidst finals preparations. This means 3 classes tomorrow, plus 2 "LiveTalks" (basically conference calls for online courses, a quiz, and an assignment to turn in. On the plus side, I won't be holed up in the library during my surprise birthday party, so it's a win, win, and an improvement over previous birthdays. Plus, there will be jelly beans, brownies, and gluten-free cake. (and, presumably, friends to share this with, though that's hardly important)
(I should know by now that passive aggression doesn't not work on my mother, but every year, I hope and try)
Moi: You guys realize that [Brother's] birthday is next Friday, right? Are you getting him something?
Mother: Oh next Friday? Already?
Moi: And you do realize that another birthday comes the day before that, right? You have two children.
Mother: Doesn't ring a bell. Son's birthday on Friday. Got it.
Oh, what else is new? I have not updated in a week and I am aging precipitously. Tomorrow, I will have aged a whole other year. Though my actual birthday dinner/get-together will be postponed for 2 months. Because my birthday, per usual, falls amidst finals preparations. This means 3 classes tomorrow, plus 2 "LiveTalks" (basically conference calls for online courses, a quiz, and an assignment to turn in. On the plus side, I won't be holed up in the library during my surprise birthday party, so it's a win, win, and an improvement over previous birthdays. Plus, there will be jelly beans, brownies, and gluten-free cake. (and, presumably, friends to share this with, though that's hardly important)
(I should know by now that passive aggression doesn't not work on my mother, but every year, I hope and try)
Moi: You guys realize that [Brother's] birthday is next Friday, right? Are you getting him something?
Mother: Oh next Friday? Already?
Moi: And you do realize that another birthday comes the day before that, right? You have two children.
Mother: Doesn't ring a bell. Son's birthday on Friday. Got it.
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