We got lost driving through New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts at one go. One of the post-docs at the lab was going to drive out to Manchester to pick up her boyfriend at the airport and do some shopping at the Asian grocery stores that were apparently clustered there. I decided to tag along to do some shopping too.
However, we ended up in western Massachusetts after an hour and a half. To get back on track to Manchester, we spent about two more hours driving east on back roads. We went through small towns which I would have never had the chance to see (or ever will see again) in my lifetime. There were little kids in costumes and clapboard New England homes. Quaint shops littered the side of the road. The scenic route was by far the most cliched stretch of Americana I've seen in a while. By the time we got to Manchester, passed Manchester and got on the wrong interstate that was happily heading into Boston, and then turned back to Manchester again, the post-doc was hyperventilating and her boyfriend was waiting at the airport, worried.
After that, we went on our way to the Asian grocery store (not without a few wrong turns, again), only to find that when we arrived, they had just closed.
Southern New Hampshire, I'm never going to look at you the same way again.
Instead of trick-or-treating or going to the Med School's annual Halloween Party (besides, I don't even have a costume this year) I'm going to psych myself up for some midnight typing for NaNoWriMo. That's right, I'm going to attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Foolhardy? Probably. Worthwhile? Definitely.
In a post dated almost a year ago, I also mentioned that I was doing Nano, but I was also posting my progress over at Writing Sya. I had predicted that I wouldn't be posting much, but boy was that off the mark!
(Aside: It's interesting, now that I look at the archives. Two years ago I wasn't thinking about writing at all--only about surviving a hellish term in which I did all-nighters at least once a week.)
Uh... Senate Joint Resolution 552. Found via Googlism. This is embarassing. And I noticed that none of the universities I listed as a prospective school was the one I ended up attending.
When I was in first or second grade, I was introduced into the world of James Bond. One of the networks was showing one of the movies, Goldfinger, and my Dad was very excited to see it. I got to sit through it and almost immediately I was mesmerized by the action, the dastardly villains, and cool gadgets. It was the first time I was exposed to something other than cartoons and sanitized Disney movies like Pollyanna. Of course, I didn't understand why the main character was always kissing scantily clad women, but that didn't detract from the main theme.
But why on earth would my parents let me watch such an adult film at such a tender age? James Bond has violence, sex, and suggestive language. Maybe they thought it was suitable entertainment. Or maybe they sought to desensitize me because I had no inclination of watching rated R movies until Schindler's List. Or maybe I was just lucky to have parents who didn't censor everything, after all they never checked up on what I was reading.
Anyways, James Bond has faded into nostalgia for me. Now, I only like the old cheesy movies with either Sean Connery or Roger Moore. The ones with Timothy Dalton were okay, but I felt weird watching them because Dalton scared the heck out of me (I saw him before as Heathcliff in a film adaptation of Wuthering Heights, and boy, did that give nightmares). The newer ones with Pierce Brosnan has only descended to the depths of bawdy.
Other things: Plumb Design Visual Thesaurus. Word webbing. If I want to get serious with words, I'd use the old fashioned thesaurus in the form of a dictionary. If I want to waste time, I'd check this out. Portrait of a Blogger. The author's got it all backwards because the blogs I read can't be put into his arbitrary classifications.
1. What did you think was on the "other side" as a little kid, and how is it different from what you think is "there" today? (Thank you Leah and Gina)
I was dragged to church when I was little and I hated it. People said things and I could tell right off that they didn't mean it. I suppose I believed in the cloud and halo myth back then as well as all the Bible stories, but now I simply don't know.
I'm not one of those deluded scientists who believe in "intelligent design" either. I'm not saying that God doesn't exist, but if there is a God, I haven't seen any evidence of him. So my answer again: I don't know.
2. What's your mood today? Do you believe in the power of mood rings?
I'm very tired. Not the running up the stairs a couple of times tired, but the hibernating type tired. I want to sleep and wake up next week.
And mood rings are for sissies. What you need is a mood alarm. It'll broadcast your every emotion to anyone within five hundred yards.
3. Describe your absolute favorite Halloween costume? Did you play tricks on people, even when they gave you a treat?
It has to be the group costume I was in during my first year as an undergraduate. A bunch of friends and I wore the corresponding colors for types of atoms (for instance, it's generally accepted to make carbon atoms black in textbooks, so the people who were carbon atoms wore black) and tied rope between us to make up the chemical bonds. We were a molecule of sarin or nerve gas. We went around the neighborhood hoping we wouldn't accidentally knock on the first year chem prof's door because surely he would have detained us for about an hour lecturing us on our incorrect bond angles. Yeah it was geeky, but we won the contest for the group costume that collected the most candy anyway. And no, I did not play tricks. I'd rather hoard the treats.
This morning I was a bundle of nerves, stumbling out of bed, clattering around the kitchen, running down the stairs, and ultimately forgetting lunch. I pictured myself lurching into a purgatory filled with paperwork demanding phone numbers and addresses of acquaintences I haven't seen in ten years. And of frowning gray-haired women.
Meeting with advisors tends to do that to a person.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even a little intimidated. Advisors determine your life because ultimately they'll shunt you to the tunnel that leads to a job or the one that leads to a cardboard box. (Okay, so the situation wasn't that dire, but I certainly felt that way.)
This evening was more relaxed. I even managed to peel my eyes from the ground to look at the starless sky while I was walking back home. The black clouds above made me smile and briefly forget about my problems.
Fun stuff (sort of): Googlism.com. This site says I'm not a professional private eye. Well, that's true. I just write about them. Name Numerology. Your Image Number is 4. And others probably view you as being fairly hard-working and dependable. You like to be seen as a very stable and secure, family-oriented individual. And you're more than willing to work hard to achieve the security you desire. Hm. Um, er, check please? Lingerie Barbie. Arg! Stab me in the eye! I think what's more outrageous is that price tag--and I thought dolls were expensive fifteen years ago. Barbies in general are scary anyway. I tore the head off the first (and only) one I recieved at the tender and impressionable age of three. Legos are the way to go. How to Use a Ouija Board. Yep, my early Halloween link of the day. Ouija boards always freaked me out. They're scarier than tarot cards, the I Ching, and ten consecutive viewings of The Exorcist put together. But they're not as scary as Barbies.
On second thought, maybe I shouldn't have ordered anything from some place that has "pain" in its name (even if it's supposed to be something else in a foreign language).
Avoid the strong coffee at Au Bon Pain unless you want to lie down and moan about the world falling onto your head for about half-an-hour. I'm beginning to think I'm a magnet for spiked caffeine.
On the other hand, I got to meet a bunch of crazy writers for NaNoWriMo this afternoon. The photographer for Nashua's The Telegraph also showed up, but the chances of me seeing those pictures and the article accompanying are pretty slim. It was neat to finally put faces to online personalities--in some ways it was comforting. These are ordinary people (most with jobs) who want to write a novel in a month. Not a great novel, mind you, but a novel nonetheless. I now have a real, a concrete, support group and not just a faceless internet void occasionally sputtering comments.
And I was momentarily distracted by the pet store in the mall. I was shocked. They don't sell cats. Maybe that's why all the people I know around here are dog people.
Linkage: Everything2.com. Janelle from the Nano group mentioned this site as a possible time waster. It looks like a big link fest for members. Hm. Maybe I'll look at it some more once I get out of this coffee-induced headache.
Sometimes things don't go well at all and I feel cold. Very cold. It has nothing to do with the below freezing temperatures outside. This coldness is in my head, behind my nose. I'm not numb--because that would imply that I'm emotionless. Sometimes it's so cold that I feel the icicles forming beneath my eyelids and in my throat. I feel like I'm turning into a flake. I'm scared. Stressed.
I can't take refuge in sleep. My dreams aren't exactly frightening, but they have a disturbing quality to them as if everyone and my subconscious are smirking at me. I wake up in the middle of the night, wishing I could see the moon and that my roommates weren't such night owls.
I think I'll take a walk to clear my head.
Enough with the dramatics already, where are the damn links? The Myth of Sacred Writing Time. I'd like to think I write fairly regularly even if I don't post every word online. I only wish I could write a little more than I already do. Scandyz. Reminds me of somebody's banana sticker collection I once ran into on the web. 40,000 Hotel Coat Hangers Stolen. Hahahaha! I think this banished my black mood. I guess I don't need to take that walk after all.
I looked out the window this morning and saw that the entire world was crystallized in white. And the first thought I had was, "I must be in an alternate universe."
1. What would you like the world to spend research money on (inner space, outer space, stem cell, you name it research), and why do you give it top priority?
I'm doing lab rotations this year so I could say that the world should spend money on the project I'm going to work on next year, but that wouldn't really be fair (besides, it'll probably be a drop in the bucket compared to other things).
Money should be given to basic biological research. It's not that I'm saying to neglect other technology, but there are still some fundamental things that we don't know. Sure, people are already throwing money at cancer and other disease research, but doesn't anyone realize how complex those areas are? How can we even try to understand the mechanisms of cancer even when we don't know all the details of the cell cycle or the genetics behind the disease?
2. Where's the beef, Carmine Miranda, or what's bugging you lately?
Caffeine keeps you awake, but it also makes you go to the bathroom more often.
3. Elliott would like to know, do you type without looking at the keyboard; in other words, are you a hunt and peek (in his case that would be hunt and claw), or a "true typist?"
I suppose you could call me a "true typist" although I don't type too fast (although fast enough to suit my own purposes). I took a typing class in high school because it was required. The teacher was a short man with a funny moustache who claimed that he could smell gum across the room. He was also absent half of the time because he had a bad case of kidney stones.
My roommates keep on asking me what I do for lunch. They're curious, I suppose, because I usually leave home early in the morning and get back late. I tell them I don't have time to come back home so I stay at lab for lunch.
I'm sort of envious because they only have to go to three classes and they don't have to go to lab. (Then again, I get paid more than they do so I guess everything works out in the end.) If I had as much time on my hands as they did, I'd start signing up for dance classes, planning trips to Boston and Montreal, going to the movies every weekend, and spending a couple hours each week checking out all the hiking trails around here. As it is, I come home feeling so tired I want to curl up in a ball on the floor and just sleep.
Wet and squeaky. Except for lugging a bunch of CDs back to the library, I had a grand time walking out in the rain with my trusty blue umbrella that was torn at one end. It was a little chilly, but I walked with my coat open so that the air could sting my throat. The sky was a mutinous gray and the wind rattled yellowed leaves so that they fell on the ground in plops. The leaves were louder than the rain.
The rain drove many people inside so when I was at the library, every seat was crammed. Outside, fewer people were out. Most of those people outside were walking dogs. I met with someone I knew online for dinner. It was nice talking to another person from southern California who was also as eager to experience the seasons again.
A link: Tom Lehrer's "The Elements". This little flash ditty is infectious. And it's a great way for someone to memorize the elements in the periodic table.
I can't believe I sympathized with a dog today. Ever been scared by someone who always seems unnaturally happy to see you? Well, in the case of the poor dog, she wandered in behind her owner until a post-doc spotted her and started squealing in excitement. "Fifi!" (The dog's name is not Fifi though.) The dog took one look at the post-doc and ran the other way. This was not the first time something like this happened. On another incident, the post-doc wailed, "He likes you!" when a large hunting dog followed me instead.
Over-enthusiasm spooks animals. I've noticed that whenever I encounter a dog or a cat, I usually hold out a hand in a way of greeting and speak as if I'm talking to another person. I don't hyperventilate and scream, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" Either the animal loses interest in me (and in that case, I don't go off chasing after it) or decides I'm a big fluffy pillow to sleep on.
Oh, and I think I accidentally spiked my own coffee with some white stuff that I thought was sugar cause I'm feeling a bit woozy.
Surprisingly, the first time I ever played this game was last night. (Then again, I'm rarely in a situation where I'm in a large group of people who are all amendable to the idea of playing one game.) I'm not nearly as competitive as some, but I was disappointed because the only word I knew during the entire game was succubus. (Of course, I thought it was sort of a cop out, for me anyway, because I was a big mythology and folklore buff during high school.) I was just lucky that everyone else (except for some of the PhDs) thought it was a clown or some nectar fruit drink. I really need to start drilling myself on vocabulary again.
Here are some words that I guessed incorrectly. Do you know them?
Note: The correct meanings of all the words can be found at dictionary.com except for frendulum, perqueer, and pushkin which can be found on Google instead.
Hint: In this case, pushkin is not referring to a person.
1. I know we've been here before, but perhaps you got a different one now. What's your "must see" movie, and why should I see it?
The Red Violin. Yeah, yeah, it's not a new movie but I haven't seen any movies in a while.
2. What have you been procrastinating on, that you've just got to do, or finish up?
There's this online lab safety test that I'm still putting off...
3. Are you wondering, what in the world is happening? Are you afraid to pump gas? Do you think the US media has focused too much on the Maryland sniper? Why, or why not?
To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what's happening in the world today. I've been too wrapped up in working, studying, and planning for November to even think about checking out a news site.
The tea is not working. Must try something stronger.
Linkage: Lost in Translation. It's definitely a fun thing to plug in sentences and get mangled words back. Result after running the above sentence through ten times: _ of me mangled decid the Gedrechselt of the D, the ristabilimento the expression of the connection and this abundance, with these marcature behind the word. Strindberg+Helium: With Iron and Sulfur. A dark flash cartoon. You may think me a bit disturbed, but I thought it was very funny.
Some people say that they feel their teenage years were just yesterday. They say they can relate to a teen's view. Or they act immature and attempt to excuse themselves by saying that they feel younger than how they look.
What's with this obsession with youth? Are the teenage years supposed to be better? Or is it because teenagers are able to be self-abosrbed without being as harshly criticized as an adult because they don't know any better? I may never understand--my own teenage years weren't traumatic or even fun. I think I delibrately distanced myself from many things so that instead of going through the emotional roller coasters that my peers rode through every hour, I felt nothing.
Now this is not to say that I consider myself a responsible adult. I have a job. I pay rent. I pay taxes. But I don't go to sleep or get up at reasonable times. I occasionally do rather stupid things. Sometimes I say stupid things. It's just that I don't relate to carefree devil-may-care attitudes usually attributed to youth.
When I'm not in class or in lab, I'm attending a seminar. Today's speaker James F. Crow gave a lecture on population genetics. His talk was remarkably coherent considering that the only genetics lectures I attended before were undergraduate classes taught by quirky professors who had the knack of zonking me out one-third of the way through despite their surreal humor.
I found this interesting: He concluded that many diseases caused by mutations in offspring were the result of fertile old men. His rationale was that the gametes of older men had gone through more cell divisions. More cell divisions mean more mutations since it increases the chance that there is a mistake whenever the genome divides. For women, it's different. By the time a female is born, all the eggs that she will ever produce during her lifetime are already present in the ovary.
A woman in the audience wondered about the social implications of this observation and inquired whether or not Dr. Crow was considering on pitching a proposal to Congress to discourage men 40 or over to not have children. Dr. Crow had no comment on that particular question.
This time, links first: Scramble Bands. I hate football. During my stint in a marching band in high school, we marched in all sorts of weather which meant getting soaked and/or frozen. Besides, the games weren't that interesting even when someone explained them to me. Now the scramble bands--that sounds interesting. If I have time, maybe I'll brave one more football game to see one. Vote for me. This will probably be the only time that I ask you, the readers, to do anything for me.
The Tuesday Too from February 19 since jf is off on a boat trip:
1. When are you spending time frivolously on the internet?
Right now? At the Nanowrimo forums. But usually I spend time reading Metafilter.
2. Would you describe yourself as an east coast or west coast personality type?
I am definitely not a west coaster. We'll see in a few years to see if the east coast sticks or runs.
My roommates are slowly getting accustomed to American culture. However some simple things still fascinate them, such as saying thank you, sorry, or you first. "Everyone here is so polite!"
Well, I'm not so sure about that. A lot of thanks and excuse mes are social niceties that have been ingrained, depending on your upbringing. I say them all the time and I really have to think about it if I'm trying to be aware of exactly what I'm saying. But when someone doesn't say any of this, like "excuse me", the absence of the words is acutely felt.
But odd cultural politeness goes both ways. One of my roommate's friends came over and asked me if he could borrow some plates. I thought nothing of it. She tried apologizing for his rudeness.
At the entrance to the trail is a silver observatory, windows with one shutter ripped off. A tiny animal sits a few yards away at the base of a pine tree. I take a step forward. A chipmunk, I finally realize. And with that, it scampers into the shadowed forest.
The path is spongy, littered with broken branches, pine cones, acorns. The green ivy is blotched black with an unknown blight. A nearby bush rustles and squeaks, startling me for a moment. Birds. The canopy covers the overhead sky like the blight. There is a small clearing, and on a rise of gray stone and purple flowers is a tower.
It is tall, thin, and off limits to the public. It looks like a prison with decayed windows and a light green dunce cap. I dare not touch it.
Inspiration: Drawings of Leonardo da Vinci. "And those men who are inventors and interpreters between Nature and man, as compared with boasters and declaimers of the works of others, must be regarded and not otherwise esteemed than as the object in front of a mirror, when compared with its image seen in the mirror. For the first is something in itself, and the other nothingness--Folks little indebted to Nature, since it is only by chance that they wear the human form and without it I might class them with the herd of beasts." --Leonardo da Vinci Internet Medieval Sourcebook. I may have posted this link before, but I've got to say, it's fascinating to read the thought processes that went on hundreds of years ago.
From a reliable source, I heard that Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip are visiting Vancouver (i.e. UBC) on Monday, October 7. So for those of you on the west coast, go rub elbows with royalty if you are so inclined.
(Of course, I don't care a wit. Famous people are just like everyone else, except with bigger egos.)
To waste time: LOTR: Two Towers Trailer. For people who haven't read Two Towers, the trailer contains tons of spoilers. But other than that, wow. I'll probably see it when I get back home in mid-December because then I'll have the entire theater to myself. All the rednecks will be crammed into the next theater watching the sequel to The Santa Clause. The Purrsonality Test. (via ShawnAllison) I am a British Shorthair.
A neat quote I found on the Nanowrimo forums: "Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal." - Albert Camus
I live in an apartment building full of Mandarin-gibbering pyromaniacs. Just as I was sitting down to check my e-mail, the fire alarm went off and the firemen dropped by.
Exasperated, one of the firemen asked, "Who here speaks the best English?" The answer to his question? Me. But I couldn't very well explain a problem that happened in somebody else's apartment.
So what happened? Some guys were cooking and fiddling with the circuit breakers at the same time.
More about writing...
Write a novel in a month, specifically during November. Sign-ups for NaNoWriMo start today. Always wanted to write a novel? Sign-up. Need a challenge? Sign-up. Not sure about this whole novel writing business? Sign-up anyway.
To be honest, I didn't get much motivation from my friends last year. They thought I was crazy. They were too busy doing other things. I'd say, if they used the time they spent watching movies and playing video games writing, they would have two novels and a half done by the time the month was over. I seriously doubt I'd get any encouragement this year. Probably less. But I won't let that stop me.
1. What would make you just give it all up, or if there isn't anything that bad, how come?
Giving up only means that you haven't tried enough. Tomorrow will always be better.
2. What in your life gives you the most satisfaction, or a sense of purpose? Can you explain why?
What gives me the most satisfaction is results, be it an experiment, a writing exercise, or simply not burning dinner.
3. What is it you don't have, that you've absolutely got to have?
I am currently enamoured with blank notebooks. All of that white paper brings a smile to my face. So far I've kept my impulse to buy out the bookstore in check.
