Wacom Tablet Reloaded

You're drunk and acting tough.

I'm a quitter. By Natalie Dee.

I quit blogging. and more importantly - I quit grad school.

It was really more of a damage control thing than anything else... But I can get into that later.

the important thing - is that I am now a scientist for a Fortune 500 company making consumer products - which is where I always wanted to end up - and i have arrived.

My life is infinitely better than it was in graduate school. I am amazed at this - at the fact that your environment can influence you that much. I had always been of the mindset that who I am internally has more influence on me than my surroundings... but I guess I can see that both matter to some extent.

I also have a new belief in Luck. In graduate school I was unlucky and unsuccessful. I also think that the professors that I worked for are dumb. Now, I find myself in a new situation, still working out new technology, but I am already wildly successful. It has got to be luck that I have ended up here - and that the senior scientist that I am working with is smart. Smarter than most of the professors I knew in graduate school.

And although I have been away from blogging on the internet, I have still been on the internet.

This video by Alain De Botton (scroll to the end of the post) resonated with me.

Leaving my program with out a Ph.D. was hard for my identity. So much of who I was- was wrapped up in getting a PhD and staying in graduate school at all costs.

It was easy for me to physically leave - because I have this gift of seeing the truth of situations - and I knew I was being forced out.

And the most important thing I learned in graduate school is that a Ph.D. doesn't mean anything. Lazy idiots can have them, hard working idiots can have them, etc. It doesn't even distinguish if you can think or not.

My manager said to me about me "she acts like she has a PhD" meaning I can think, and come up with new technologies, and design experiments, etc. I just don't have the stamp.

(And for the record, yes I did leave with a Masters, but it is still quitting in my eyes.)

Hello again, blogging world.

What I meant to say yesterday. or WTF Katu WTF

Right. Working a ton. Not keeping up with people. That is what I intended to write about...

Do you remember Tino was working on a short story? Well I asked for it to read/edit/give comments and she sent it to me... I even started reading it, and editing some parts - making comments, etc. Perhaps all of you should know I just went through a phase of reading books about writing fiction. My favorite of the bunch is by Sol Stein: On Writing.

Anyway, so I am reading along--- 10 pages or so in- editing like crazy- and this was 3 weeks ago or so. Then life interrupts and I put it down.

never to return.

-Right Tino-- so I still have your one-third-read/one-third-edited short story... Do you want the first third? or should I wait to finish it? I was thinking wait to finish...

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What else? Skuh sent me this LOVELY personal email... and I put a ninja star on it (as my gmail is ninja themed) and never replied.
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Then one of my favorite academics who is just now starting her tenure track job far away tagged me on facebook in a note: 25 random things about me. I am supposed to write a list of random things. First of all, I hate the word random. It is overused by people who don't want to think of the appropriate descriptive word. After that we have a list of 25 things that people on facebook don't already know about me. I have no intention of making that list. You see, I have a bit of a popularity complex. I friend everyone just to get my friend number higher. That means I have tons of "friends." The way I see it-- if they don't know those 25 things about me already-- then I don't want them to find out with a chain-letter list. Now, Mrs. Favorite-Academic, sure I like her TONS, and I think I will send her the link to this secret blog of mine so that she can learn those 25 things in blog form. But have I told her this? Have I sent Favorite-Academic the link? Not yet. I am just that awesome at keeping in touch.

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And finally this blog- I haven't posted. This could be a good thing because it means I am using all of my time to work and sleep and walk the dogs and kiss the husband. It could be a good thing because life is peachy.

Until now.

I changed groups... And the group I joined happened to be Katu's group. Which is good because the Prof I work for is smart and she has money for lab supplies and plenty of work for us to do. But I was friends with Katu before and I wondered if it would affect our friendship. Guess what? It did.

Right so before I joined there was Katu and Pizza-Pan, the graduate students, a post doc and the Professor. Now there is Katu, Pizza-Pan, Nice-Girl, and me (the grad students), the same post doc and the Professor. Nice-Girl and I sit by each other and I (obviously by her name) am quite fond of her.

Now, Katu and I used to be lunch-on-the-weekend-friends. And lately Katu and Pizza-Pan go out to lunch together all of the time. But they don't invite me or Nice-Girl.

This is not a big deal itself. So this Friday I say to Katu: We never hang out anymore- let's have lunch this weekend. And she says: I don't know... my finances are kinda tight. I say we could bring lunches- but we change the topic...

Flash forward to this Sunday. Katu, Pizza-Pan, and I are working in the lab. Nice-Girl isn't around and neither is Postdoc. Then suddenly at lunch time- Katu and Pizza-Pan leave to have lunch together and even mention it to me when they get back.

WTF Katu. WTF!

So obviously, we aren't "friends" anymore in my book. Certainly not lunch-on-the-weekend-friends like we used to be.

So what could have happened?

(a) Katu's environment could have changed:
I think Katu feels like an older sibling when the mom just had a new baby. Katu used to be the smart and industrious one. And now, she is not the only one who is smart and industrious.

(b) Katu's vision of me could have changed:
She could be pissy because I openly LOVE working for our boss. I LOVE being at work and being in a lab that has money to be used for lab supplies. And she doesn't like research- she openly tells me- and I LOVE research. Before when we were friends- I was less happy: I was working for Catfish -without money for research supplies- with a broken instrument.

(c) It could be a combination of both. It could be that Katu isn't conscious of the fact that she has stopped opting into our friendship.

So right. It pissed me off. But writing about it has helped. And what else? It is okay. I have more friends than I need or can even keep up with. Katu was not the only friend. I can invest my time in other friends.

A 42 Family Town

I enjoy the month of December.
There is still plenty of cold weather ahead, it is Christmas Season, and I am filled with Hope for the upcoming year. December is also a time where I look back at the past year and think of all of my accomplishments. This usually involves writing a Christmas Update letter and sending Christmas cards out to my extended family and faraway friends.

It is Sunday, December 21st. I have already traveled to my vacation destination, and I haven't even started composing a Christmas letter.

Remember the post Probability of Order? That was vague, wasn't it? Right. Well, I did it- I made the change- the turbulence is over- I left my old boss's group.

What does that even mean!!!

Unless you are in pursuit of your PhD in the basic sciences, you probably don't immediately understand the significance of leaving someone's group. At the end of this post I have a link to some of my previous thoughts on my graduate situation where I compare it to Slavery in the Old South. Today I will use a different comparison.

My department is a small town where the popular pastime is gossiping about other people's business. The town consists of 42 families, but instead of houses, we live in one apartment complex composed of 3 buildings. The gossip flies faster in such a close proximity.

The research groups are polygamist families before any sort of feminist revolution. The boss is the husband and the graduate students are the wives. (Although husband and wife here are used only to indicate power, not gender.) Leaving my boss's group is equivalent to getting a divorce and getting remarried in this small town of 42 families. My old boss has now been divorced 7 times in the last 6 years.

The good news is: I am out. I am now in a new group lead by a woman who has been a professor now for 2 years. I am going to have to work 60 hours a week on a regular basis- but it will be toward something that will get me a PhD. And that is the goal.

I feel a big sense of peace with this change because I trust my New Boss "Alice" where as I did not trust the old boss "Catfish." Catfish had the following priorities:

1. Complain about life in general, esp. about home repairs, graduate students, and other families in our 42 family town.

2. Sculpting: Ordering rocks and staying home from work to have them delivered, getting graduate students to make illegal copies of sculpting videos at the library, giving chemicals from the lab to the sculpting teacher, making a mess in the lab by mixing chemicals and rocks, talking about sculpting.

3. Making money by not actually doing anything: This is Catfish's secret obsession. He likes to talk about how he invested 1000 dollars in this start-up company that is one of his student's thesis projects. My thesis project had me doing experiments that had already been published in 2002! Why did I have to do them? Because he had a patent on this idea (which was a dumb idea which will never make him any money) and he was sure that if I did the work for it he could start a company and make a profit. Right. Forget about doing something because it is good science. Catfish only wants to use science in hopes of making himself rich. What else?

4. Playing Solitaire and Hearts on his laptop. You know how with Windows the start menu shows the recent programs used the most? Right, well every week for group meeting we hook up Catfish's computer to the projector and give him our power point presentations to show. He inevitably clicks on the Windows start menu icon... and the 2 most used programs on his laptop (his only work computer BTW) are ALWAYS Hearts an Solitaire. (the thing is- not only is he not working- how can any semi-intelligent person be entertained by those games!!! Right- Catfish is not intelligent.)

5. Telling graduate students that they need to buy research supplies with money from their paycheck. Awesome. Did I mention that it is HIS JOB to provide research funding for us? Oh yeah- Solitaire is way more stimulating that writing grants or publishing papers. What else is his job? helping his students get their research published in scientific papers. The last time one of his students published a paper containing original research was in 2005. In a few days it will be 2009.

Okay enough of that-- How did I get out? Well my old thesis project was based on this instrument and it was broken when I got it and continued to get worse. Catfish didn't think it was ever broken so it took a long time for me to convince him that we needed to fix it. And finally after trying to fix it for a semester- I realized that it wasn't fixable. The instrument I am talking about is a prototype that never made it to market. There are 5 of them in the world- and they are composed of many "made to order" parts. So... right... but Catfish has a patent (see #3 above) so when I told him that I needed a new thesis project because I couldn't fix the instrument- he said no. And I found a new thesis project in a different group. (A socially acceptable reason to get a divorce.)

In my new group, my new boss, Alice has a different set of priorities:
1. Get research done
2. Publish papers
3. Write grants
4. Stay on top of the current science literature

I think I will be happy in my new family.
Merry Christmas to me.


Recommended reading: Yes Masta, Youse a Good Masta

Life vectors and Money

Novella came and stayed at my apartment recently. I had a very good time with her, and we got to hang out more than I was expecting which was nice. Along with other things we talked about people we knew from high school and what/how they are doing now. I started thinking about high school people -- about how we all had very similar day-to-day lives at one time, and now we have scattered and are doing very different things with our lives.

Then I think- maybe it only seemed like we had similar lives. Maybe the part of our lives that was the same was not the part that mattered. Maybe the things that influenced us were the parts that were not so visible to my high school eyes.

I guess this is the nature vs nurture thing. Or it could be the nature and nurture thing where nature (our genetics) is the X axis and nurture (our experiences) is the Y axis, and our resulting direction in life is the vector in space having both X and Y components. And that is how it would be in 2 dimensions. But with genetics I imagine that we would not only have multiple lengths of the X axis component, but also that we would have other dimensional possibilities.

So the part that is the same is the fact that we wall went to the same high school. But there are so many other variables. How much did we pay attention in class? How did our home life influence our interest in school or boys or girls or drugs? Maybe our home life was so drastically different that it switches us into another dimension entirely. If we consider all of this it makes perfect sense that members of a high school class would be scattered about the universe.

Human beings have too many variables to make a good science experiment. In the class I am auditing I think about how there is so much we don't know about biology and life. We don't know every step in evolution, although we have pieces. We cannot create a living E.Coli bacterium yet (from non-living synthetic materials.) I feel like we are close. We should be able to create an E.Coli. But even bacterial life is SO complicated. If humans continue to exist for long enough (assuming we don't bomb ourselves into extinction) I bet we will get far enough in science to create life from non-living materials.

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On a side note- tomorrow is Monday. I am meeting with my boss AND ordering supplies for my project. The total cost of supplies I need is $7.40. I have a feeling that my boss will tell me to purchase the supplies with my own money. And I will tell him no.

I have the feeling because in the past he has told us to purchase things with our own money - and I have already spent $170 on my research project of my own money. I am not doing this anymore. It pisses me off because it is HIS JOB to get us funding - AND he makes ten times as much money as I make. And he expects me to use my salary to do HIS job, and still do my job? The problem is that my boss feels that he doesn't have enough money. He is selfish and stingy.

I am ready to tell him tomorrow that I am not spending another cent on my research project, and that if he doesn't have the money to support my project then I can find another group.

This is hard for me because I am standing up to my boss, and because it is dealing with money. I have issues with money because my dad never wanted to spend money and so I thought that if I spent less money than he would love me more.

The great thing is that Jips, my husband, loves to spend money. And since I want him to have the things he wants because I love him and we can actually afford the things he wants... it makes me think that I can have the things I want then, too.

But beyond my husband - I have trouble with money. I hate talking about it. I hate asking my boss to spend money on my research because he is always acting pissy about spending the money. So this will be a big step for me.

TFA is short for: Shot in the FACE

I can feel it: the obsession creeping in. I am checking MY OWN BLOG multiple times a day to look for comments and new posts.

Skuh asked me why I said TFA is the devil. The reality is that I just like to make outlandish claims without any substance to them. I don't know that much about Teach For America, but these facts make me distrust them:

1) they are an organization with lots of propaganda
2) you can write the TFA experience on your resume
3) their target age group = college kids

Organizations and Cults love to target college kids because often times college kids don't want to grow up and they don't know what they will do with their lives. College kids are legal-for-labor and they don't always place a high value on their time. The exploitation opportunities are endless.

Skuh, I know you aren't doing TFA so you can write it on your resume. But that will be the focus of the people you will be working with. You were an English major so you might not know how annoying pre-meds are. People who are too focused on resumes are a bitch to be around because they lack something that most other people have: a soul.

I am naturally distrustful of organizations especially if there is propaganda involved. From what I have heard, TFA does not tolerate any negative talk about TFA. Personally, I like the truth and I like free speech. TFA likes to smite the truth.

And finally, if you join TFA you may be shot in the face by one of your students.

Check the links:
Feministe: Why I Hate Teach For America
(read the comments on Feministe, too)
Philadelphia Rain
Loving to Hate Teach for America
How I Joined Teach for America-- and got Sued for $20 million

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Did yall watch the new HOUSE Tuesday?
If so you will love LOL House, courtesy of J-Money.
It is really funny! Scroll down to see the pics.

Goal 1: Control the Universe

The 1992 graduate asked me who I worked for, and when I told her she scrunched up her face in disgust. I smiled and said "yes."

"Maybe he's changed." She said.

"He hasn't. The person who told me I should work for him got fired the year I joined."

"That was the same thing that happened to my friend who worked for him." she said.

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Now in my third year, my boss is not the problem. He isn't going to fire me, because right now, I am more valuable to him than he is to me. On top of that, I have learned how to deal with him. I don't stress out about group meetings or seeing him.

The problem is now internal and personal. Personal because my house is a mess, and I have to study organic on my down time rather than clean my house. Internal because I feel like I haven't done anything worthwhile in the past 2.25 years.

I know it isn't true. I have a paper published in a journal where "only experts in the field" publish. I won a teaching award. I have led the revival of my Women In Science group for the past year growing our membership from 5 to 45. I passed my oral exam and all of my PhD qualifiers.

But I have not made a scientific contribution to my field. In reality this is mostly because of (1) choosing to work for an older advisor who has had several bad ideas that I had to entertain. and (2) bad luck, old instruments, lack of funding. I am certain that I am not alone in my current status of lack of contribution. A professor I respect got his whole thesis out of the last 6 months of the 6 years it took him to get a PhD. In fact, most people I know (haven't/hadn't) done anything worthwhile (at this point in their PhD education.) I guess I feel frustrated because Katu, a friend that I respect, HAS done worthwhile work.

To further Analyse the situation:

• Katu works longer hours than me, and she probably works harder than me 85% of the time
• Katu works for a young professor who has good ideas
• Katu does not have a paper in the esteemed journal that I have one in
• Katu hasn't led the Women In Science group
• Katu hasn't won a teaching award
• Katu has passed her PhD qualifiers
• Katu doesn't exercise regularly or have dogs

I guess I am only bothered because she is further along in getting the degree, but she is not further along in being the total person that I want to be.

I ask myself: Would I trade my accomplishments for Katu's? The answer is no. I just want it all. And that brings us to the truth: that you really can't have it all. Life is a trade off, and with each thing we choose we discard a different choice.

So I guess the answer is: focus on the positive. I am the person that I want to be except for the fact that I'm not omnipotent.

Are you friends with your Mum?

Video

Facebook in Real Life! It is so great!

I found it on Method Uncertain who knows how to embed videos, while I do not.

Professional Follower

In the comments of the last post Novella asked if my sister could get professional help.

I need to explain more of the story.
In this post, Sister = S.

The root of the problem is not that my sister is too skinny, but rather that she is a Follower. We are all followers to some extent, but she is a Follower in the most extreme of ways. She Follows to the point of becoming brainwashed. She is 27, and so far I can count 3 wash cycles each of which last years.

The first wash started in High School. S was popular. The popular group was her group. You have to be somewhat brainwashed to be popular in high school. I guess I haven't read much about this topic because it is one of the more socially acceptable ways to not think. Someone once said that religion isn't the opium of the people, fashion is. In high school she told me that I shouldn't let my date drive me home if he was drunk. That was good of her to tell me, and one of the signs that her mind wasn't totally mush.

When popular high school girls go to college they do one thing: Join Sororities. And that is what S did. Until she quit a year later to join what I call "the sorority church."

The second wash setting is: Fundamentalist Non-denominational Christian. The Sorority Church was on the edge of our college campus, and provided for all of a Follower's needs. You aren't Saved unless you specifically ask Jesus into your heart. The only requirement for a good husband was that he has asked Jesus into his heart. You don't have to worry about discussing things like financial plans, children, or relationship needs before you get married because hell, whenever things that like arise you can pray about it, and Jesus will tell you what to do. You know that eating disorder you had in High School? Just "give it to god" and it will go away.

S married a Christian guy from the Sorority Church. They moved many miles away after college to a place where her Husband has a job and where she can go to graduate school to get her masters in counseling.

The third wash cycle is: Psyco Camp complete with Psyco Drugs. Away from the Sorority Church and the Harem of Followers she was "friends" with, S gets lonely. Lonely in the way that her husband is gone on trips for work 80% of the year, Lonely in the way that the Female Harem is gone, and Lonely in the way that everyone is when they move far away to a new city. But in Psyco Camp where she is being trained, she names her Loneliness: Manic Depression. She sees a doctor who gives her so much medicine (Psyco Drugs) that when she is taking it as prescribed she passes out and hits her head on the bath tub. She goes to the emergency room all the time now that she is in the new city far away. S is always having accidents. She starts smoking cigarettes. With five years now between the present and the Sorority Church she tells me that she maybe was brainwashed (at that time.) Praying looses its magic. She is taking tons of Psyco Drugs. My dad says to me: "I warned my kids about the illegal drugs, but didn't think to warn them about the legal ones." I have the feeling that her starvation is a result of her drowning her unhappiness in Psyco Drugs rather than an eating disorder. My dad says that her brain would work better if she wasn't so skinny.

I am not sure what the answer is.

Is there such a thing as professional help for a Serial Follower?

*Please note that I believe in Psyco Drugs when used properly. However sometimes they are used without really helping the patient. I judge this to be one of those times.*

Celebrating Fermi-ness

I have a love/hate relationship with my birthday. On one hand it is my ultimate favorite day, because it is a day for me: a day I can celebrate my Fermi-ness. I used to dislike my birthday because I got unwanted gifts and attention and that made me feel uncomfortable. Now, I get more presents that I want, and I am overall more at peace with who I am so unwanted attention doesn't bother me nearly as much.

Age is a funny thing because there is our chronological age (25), the age we feel (40), and the age we look (17). Now with modern advancements in interweb technology we can even calculate our Real Age (16.7) at www.realage.com! I guess it is comforting that my real age is 16.7 because strangers generally think that I am an undergrad in college.

Arg. You want some real amusement? Go check out Cajun Boy's blog. Watch the embedded video at this post, and then follow the link at the end of the post and read his analysis.


Fermi's report card of life skills (age 25):

Thinking
99 - A

Communicating
60 - F
Talking
50 - F
Writing
70 - C

Being Kind
70 - C

Loving
90 - A

Walking
90 - A

Swimming
40 - F

Some people like their jobs?

In the realm of work-life balance there are several classes of opinion ranging from [My job defines me - I love my job - I am a work-a- holic] to [I hate my job and only do this for the paycheck] with all shades of gray in between. I got to thinking about this when skuh posted awhile back and said: "I still am having trouble believing that people can like what they do for a living." Do I like my job? I wondered. Now, I will begin the investigation!

My first Job: Babysitting
Pros:
(1) This job provides chance to earn tax-free money when you are under 16.
(2) You get a candid glimpse of what someone else's family is like.
Cons:
(1) Your job security may depend on the whims of children.
(2) It was hard for me to stay awake that late at night.
To sum it up:
Being an awesome babysitter takes lots of energy, hard work, and slight manipulation. Getting paid 5 to 8 dollars an hour seemed great at the time, but I am glad that this is not my job now.

My first "real" job (ages 16-18) Hostess at a medium sized pasta resturant:
Summary (and Pros):
I totally loved this job. Here are the reasons:
(1) Working let me escape from my parents during the thunderous teenage years.
(2) I was "the favorite hostess" mainly because I wasn't an idiot like most of the other hostesses, and I worked hard.
(3) The (college boy) servers were constantly flirting with me.
(4) Working let me have some income that I could spend on important things like diet coke and CDs.
(5) Being a hostess means that there is lots of social interaction with minimal intimacy. Having a set script to tell people while I was seating them was about as much intimacy as I could handle at 16.
(6) I got to color with the children's crayons while I was waiting for people to come into the restaurant.
Cons:
(1) Sometimes you have to work with really dumb and obnoxious girls that are also hostesses.
(2) Sometimes servers will direct the anger they feel towards their table at you because they lack emotional maturity.

Next job, age 18 into college: Server at various resturants
Pros:
(1) Waitressing gives social interaction with limited intimacy.
(2) I had an inner desire to wait tables, and this was a realization of my dream.
Cons:
(1) Your income depends on the mood of the people you wait on.
(2) If the restaurant isn't busy, you might not make any "real" money.
(3) Most other servers are not people that I would choose to be friends with.
Summary:
Every time Jips and I go out to eat I am thankful that I am not working in a restaurant.
I liked this job while I was there.

College age: Student Worker
Summary:
This marks the begining of my distaste for Academia.

College age: Farmer's Market Checkout Girl
Pros:
(1) If the people in line get pissy, you don't have to worry about them leaving you a bad tip.
(2) The girls I worked with were awesome.
(3) The uniform consisted of a t-shirt containing dancing fruit. I still wear them today.
(4) You get to shop for fresh fruit and veggies after work. You know exactly when the fresh strawberries arrive.
(5) You work in fresh air surrounded by fresh produce. This is a beautiful environment.
Cons:
(1) Working outside in the middle of winter means wearing 3 pairs of pants and 5 layers under your jacket.
Summary:
I have fond memories of this job. I had a nice retired navy grampa as a boss. I loved the fact that I didn't have to care about moody customers.

Grad School age: Grad school, Teaching Assistant / Research Assistant
Pros:
(1) Being a TA made me more compassionate.
(2) I am getting paid to go to school. Yes, they pay me enough to live while I focus on my degree.
(3) I split an office containing four desks with just one other female grad student that I like. (That means I get TWO desks!)
(4) I have met some awesome graduate students in my program.
(5) I actually enjoy learning and studying and researching.
Cons:
(1) The pay is much less than my B.S. degree would allow me to earn in the real world. I earn less than a high school teacher.
(2) Most professors act like rich spoiled 6th graders. These "6th graders" have control over if I get my degree or not. Dealing with this has been difficult.
(3) It is hard to have any sort of relationship with your husband or "friends" when you work constantly.
Summary:
I like research and playing around in a lab. But once I get out with my degree, I am never coming back.


Currently, I guess I do like what I do for a job on a daily basis. And I have even learned how to manage my boss!

If you didn't yet respond to Skuh's post, do you like your job?

Clint Eastwood is as much a part of our family as my out-law aunt

"Family" as a topic was not always peaking my interest. For young Fermi, life was family with a side of school. And at that time I was interested in relationships. I was afraid of divorce. I needed to know how to have a good relationship and not get divorced. Looking back now, I'm not sure where my divorce obsession came from other than the fact that I found it hard to trust people in general add my interest in relationships and you get divorce, betrayal, and cheating spouses.

Some time later, I am married to an incredible man who is my one, and when I think of the future it is of us with toddlers and then as old grandparents, and I think: He will most probably die first. Fuck.

Now my interest lies in family, specifically of the sort that you do not choose: Mothers, Fathers, Aunts, Uncles, Sisters, Brothers, Cousins, and Grandparents. Families and extended families interest me now because they are so different. Generally I see individual human beings as mostly being the same, but (biological) Families are a situation where there is a small pool of DNA that the individuals share. With this come tendencies, and tendencies can be influenced by environment so that you as an individual are "different" with your family (than with a group of randomly selected people) because their predispositions to certain behaviors tend to highlight and enhance those same inclinations in yourself.

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I mention this because tomorrow is the memorial service for my dead grandmother. I am going to see Aunts and Uncles and Cousins that I haven't seen in 8 years. I don't think I saw my (now dead) grandmother in the past eight years either. This side of my family is an anti-social bunch. I type that with a smile because even though I am looking forward to seeing these people, it seems perfectly normal for me to not see them very often.

This is the first time that my husband will be meeting most of them. Surprises are not my favorite things, so I tried to warn him about what it will be like. In this family we call the people who are married to the siblings, "the out-laws." And this is a perfectly accepted and embraced term. Looking back now, I believe the term origin came from the mix of "in-laws" with our usual activity of watching old Clint Eastwood films together. Do you feel lucky, punk?

One of the out-laws doesn't shave her legs, smokes, is a bit overweight, and is somewhat loud and abrasive. I like her alot, but I still cannot get over the fact that she doesn't shave her legs.

List

I haven't spent too much time on the internet lately. This means that I have been living alot of life without much down time, or Fermi Time. In fact, I have had SO much socialization that the *need* to blog is absent. Still, I think: I want to write, I want to produce, so I will blog anyway. Here it goes.

I made a list on paper of all of the exciting things I could blog about. Let's start with that.

1. Zazu Pimple
2. Boss Anger Group Meeting Communication
3. Maru, Katu, and Arum Rae (also Jed, THE FAN)
4. Parents visit
5. Experiments working
6. Black boys catcalls
7. Harlem Shakes Vampire Weekend vs Bonaroo Music Festival
8. Magazine Obsession
9. Cake Therapy
10. Safety is my goal: Please Call
11. Absolute Pear billboard = Georgia O'Keeffe Vagina Flower
12. Gayface's baby sister has an infant.
13. Lack of Facebook
14. Penelope Trunk's writing
15. Things that make me happy
16. Feeling happy vs Feeling Powerful vs Feeling Superior
17. Jips comes home
18. Flowers and Presents

My parents are gone now. I gave my mom the Broccoli Valentine shown below.
I am sleepy.
Hopefully I will get through the list in the next 4 days. Hopefully.

Audio Document of Wasted Time

These are the sounds of my comings and goings from the city to Brooklyn and vice versa. I decided to start digitally recording my commutes after I received a mp3 player/voice recorder from my work. My new boss found it when he was cleaning out the office and gave it to me. I've recorded three commutes so far. They've ranged from 25 minutes to an hour. I used the three files as source material for the following audio document:

Cut-up Commute

Listening back to these recordings is pretty interesting. Trying to find significance in the sounds that I just experienced while waiting to arrive from point A to point B is one option. Or I can just treat it as an artifact of an unique space and time in which I existed- no greater meaning necessary. I used to read on the train when I lived in Greenpoint and my commute on the G and V trains ensured that I would always have a seat and plenty of time to waste. Now, it's pretty much impossible to snag a seat and reading is kind of difficult when you're hanging onto a pole and pressed against a crowd of strangers. I rarely listen to music on the train either. Recording my travel time has helped me be more in the moment when I'm usually spaced out and on auto-pilot. I'll see how long I can keep it up.

The Adventures of Frog and Toad

"I do what I'm TOAD!!!" Could mean that the driver considers people who do what they're told to be ridiculous and unintelligent like Toads. Or maybe the driver is a retard who truly believes that toad is how to spell told.

Our cars are extensions of ourselves; they are extensions of our identity. I ask myself: What does my car say about me? I drive a 2002 Silver Toyota Camry. It looks normal and common on the outside, but the inside is an absolute mess. (Soda cans, water bottles, Mapquest maps to the bank and the food store.) What does this say about me? I look relatively normal on the outside but the inside of me is messy. I won't alter who I am to make other people feel comfortable. (Wait, there are soda cans in your foot space!? God Forbid!)

I drive a Camry not because I think it is the best car ever, but because my dad was buying me the car and he wouldn't let me get anything smaller (for safety reasons.) If I could drive anything... I might be up for a red and white mini cooper convertible. Do they even make those? Obviously, there are other factors beyond conscious self-expression that go into the car selection process. When you drive a BMW you are saying "I have money." But if you are poor, you drive whatever you can afford.

Similarly, what we put on our cars is a type of self-expression. My car has a license plate holder that says I am an alumni of my university. And then I have a white outline of my university letters on the top of my back windshield. I only put these on my car after I moved out of state. When we moved here, I suddenly missed my school, and I even identified more with it. When I see other people here with stickers or plates from my school it makes me smile. I think: Those are my people!

As far as personalized license plates go, or those bumper stickers that say tons of stuff, have you noticed that those people are the ones who just CANNOT SHUT UP? Obviously, if you can't shut up in real life, you will most likely feel the need to use your car to tell other drivers your very important message that will change their lives.

In other news, I bought a tank of gas today. I got the cheapest they had. It was over four dollars a gallon. The cost of one tank: $66.91, I remember when I could fill up for about 10 or 12 dollars. I hated my life then, but gas was cheaper.

1930's Wife

I think it is easier to be a husband than a wife in the 1930's.
Take the Test.
*Please Note: for both tests, I just used "significant other" instead of husband or wife*

22 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

88 As a 1930s husband, I am Very Superior Take the test!

Fire Escaped

I spent some time at my empty old apartment on Sunday afternoon while I was waiting for this guy who wanted to buy my desk to show up. Since there was no viable seating option left inside the apartment, I decided to climb out onto the fire escape and wait there. It was the first time that I stood on the fire escape and I kind of immediately regretted that fact. It was very quiet and peaceful. The view was pretty interesting. A voyeur's dream. When my cat lived with me, she would sit on the window sill and look out at the squirrels climbing up and down the fire escape. I used it to spray paint CDs on once. Here's someone's laundry:



My new apartment doesn't have a fire escape. It's on the top floor of a second story building behind a larger main building. My bedroom window overlooks a predominately concrete little courtyard. I asked my girlfriend why she thought I didn't have a fire escape. She said, "They probably figure you can just jump out of the window if there's a fire." I don't know how comfortable I am with that thought. She suggested that I buy a rope ladder, or one of those metal ones that you can store under your bed. I'll consider it. Meanwhile, I hope that I find a place in my new home where I can sit and be still and enjoy the moment.

too close to home

As Gayla just wrote, I invited 2 more girls to our blog. Gayla and someone else. Peachbone knows who. She just needs to send me her gmail alias and we will be set.

Peachbone and I have talked on the phone twice I think in the past week. This is kind of a big deal for me because I don't normally talk on the phone at all. But talking to Peach was really enjoyable. I guess it just means that I had some kick ass friends in college. And then I moved, and I guess I have friends here, maybe I don't prioritize spending time with them. Maybe I should.

That leads me into something my mom and I talked about... about moving far away from your family or staying close to home. I am the offspring of a "move far away" couple, and now I am also leading a "move far away" life. Some things are awesome about moving far away: I have met some incredible people. I guess it is my work that puts a damper on things. I can't really enjoy people like I did in college because I am always so busy, and now I also have other responsibilities like dogs and a husband.

I guess staying close to home is good if you like your parents and consider them to be decent people. Then when you reproduce, they can help you with taking care of the baby. Also you have a relationship that you can already trust.

Growing up in a "move far away" family, made me think that was the norm. And now, I look around and see so many people that stay close to home, it surprises me, I guess.

Helmet Head

This morning the boss sent out an email announcing that we would be having group meeting next week. Upon reading it, I was filled with dread. We haven't had group meeting since December 2007, and there is a consensus among the pee-ons in my group that everyone is better for it. In the fall of 07 I would get headaches every week, precisely on the night before group meeting. A great deal has changed since then; in the workplace I am a PhD Candidate, my research has taken off, and the paper has been published. Additionally I started working out and eating healthy again in January 08 and I attended weeks of therapy this spring to help me figure out how to deal with my boss. Right now, I have gotten over the lack of motivation following my oral exam, and I am pretty much at the top of my game. Even my relationship with Jips is better than it used to be. I think we are both independently happier than we were a year ago. I only have my experience with Jips in the "living with a significant other" arena, but I found that it takes some time to figure out how to live with someone. After two years, I am a pro at this as well.

Sooo, Group Meeting. CRAP.

I have been told that I am more peaceful now, and that I am strong, and that I will be able to handle life again. But I am uncertain. Maybe it will go okay. I don't know.

Imagine this situation:
Once a week you go sit in a conference room with your group and your boss hits everyone in the head with a frying pan (except the lazy golden child (not me)) at least once when they turn their head just the slightest bit. You do this every week for 1.5 years. Soon, even the mentioning of group meeting fills you with dread. This is where I am right now.

Maybe I have a helmet on now that I don't know about. We shall see.

Diversity of Thought

At the end of our second year of graduate school, we begin to see who is going to make it (get a PhD) and who is going to leave with a masters. My program is not like all programs in all fields. You enter either with a bachelors or a masters degree and you basically have the same coursework and qualifiers either way. Some of my colleagues who started with a masters degree had an easy time with coursework (because they had seen so much of it before.) But many of us came in with only a BS set on a 4 to 5 year plan to get a PhD, or at least we said that so we could get financial support. (Masters students coming in must pay their own way, while PhD students are fully supported.)

The interesting thing is that all of the black girls (except one) in my entering class are leaving with masters. (Black people : Entering class my year, 6:50) And the one token black boy in the first year class is going to leave with a masters as well. (Black people : Entering class 1st years, 1:45)
The one black girl in my year who is still in the game is a year behind because she didn't pass the literature exams the first time. They all were a year behind because of lit exams, but only one has decided to stick with it.
As for token black boy, he made a C in his boss's class this semester. I think he made alot of other Cs in his classes as well so he doesn't have many options. (A,B = okay, C = fail)
And token black boy's boss is the token black male professor.

So what is going on here? I asked my boss about this, and about the statistics in general, and he said that African Americans usually have lower GRE scores than their peers because the GRE is racist. I believe that. It is easy to see that the GRE could reference some upper-class-white things (like going to see Cats or Phantom on Broadway) that is not as popular in the black culture. But this cannot be the whole story. I know some white people who had low GRE scores and are not smart at all, but they are doing okay because they work their asses off. Their lab-mates are pissed at them because they spend zero time in the lab because they are always working on classwork or lit exams but they know they need to pass this shit.

Here are the facts:

1. Black people are just as smart as white people. Sure, there is a continuum in all people, but the race is not a factor in determining if you are going to be smart or not.

2. Most black people drop out of my PhD program, even when they have black same-sex advisers.

So what the fuck is going on?

My Idea:

Obviously it is sociological. Most white protestants in this country come from the "work hard" puritanical mind set. This goes for the blue collars who start their own car mechanic shops and the countless business people. We as Americans are work-a-holics. Immigrating to America was hard, and a great number of people died. Hard-working people had an advantage, and they survived.

Now, Black people. There are two types: The descendants of slaves, and the recently immigrated. Slavery was a horrible thing. To give an intelligent being zero power over his or her fate is (under most circumstances) emotionally crushing. Slavery is not natural, it is brutal in all forms. If you are a kind white person who has one black slave nanny to take care of your children, you are still participating in a horribly brutal act. I had never experienced such an imbalance of power before I came to graduate school, and previously I was unable to begin to understand how horrible slavery is. I know that slavery is ten thousand times worse than graduate school.

Let us examine this situation. You are a slave on a plantation. If you work extra hard you get a backache and you still have to work the next day. If you work just enough to not get noticed, you have more time to have sex with your wife and you live longer. In slavery, working hard is not advantageous to your situation, but working just enough is. These people survived.

After the abolishment of slavery, the descendants of slaves were/are still treated like second class citizens by white people. Black people learn through experience that maybe they shouldn't trust white people, or maybe it is just that they feel more comfortable with other black people.

Fast forward to graduate school. All of the black girls that are leaving ONLY TALK TO OTHER BLACK GIRLS. And one of them sat on her phone sending text messages during the entirety of a course. Sure, it was boring as hell, and sometimes I graded a few lab reports, but text messaging? I saw a sign up on a black woman's office that said "Attitude is EVERYTHING." And I think that statement is esteemed in the black community, because if the white man is getting you down you still have your 'tude. But having an attitude is not going to help you pass an exam that you just didn't study for.

I think the problem is that post-slavery American blacks have a mix of a social thing and they lack the "you must work extra hard to be worth anything" when they were growing up. Now, the idea that you must work extra hard to be worth anything is not healthy, but it might get you a PhD.

Earlier I mentioned the distinction between recently immigrated black people who were not the descendants of slaves. All of these immigrants were extremely hard workers and totally lacked the social constructs prevalent in black America.

Black American's are less susceptible to the body-image issues that white girls struggle with. But maybe that same society makes it easier for white people to be aggressive and deny themselves in order to get what they want.