Today, we slogged into class, trying to escape the lingering effects of tryptophan, fighting to overcome the holiday food-hangover. This afternoon, I had to give a short, 10-minute presentation to my evolutionary bio class. I wasn't alone in this; everyone had to present. Topics were all vaguely related to evolution. Some had a scientific bent, others quite contemporary stretches that attempted to throw in a little evolution.
Last week, my nemesis wouldn't shut the hell up during his talk. Honestly, his presentation lasted about 20 minutes; the time limit was, of course, 10. He just could not stop talking and wrap it up. Best of all, he's up there blabbering and blabbering about menopause. Twice as long as allowed, endlessly talking about the evolutionary aspects of menopause. Outstanding.
Today, I joked with him that I was going to talk for at least 30 minutes, just to beat his time. Unfortunately, I didn't know that one of our classmates actually had designs to do just that. One woman in our program has done tons of graduate work in Women's Studies. (Much to our chagrin, she's frequently pointing this out. ) She's the self-anointed keeper of all things related to feminism, of being "liberal," and of trying to be shocking by speaking frankly about sex. All of this makes for very, very entertaining and slightly annoying viewing. Often, though, she's so wrapped up in looking for deeper meanings in things that she misses the picture because she never takes off the "Women's Studies" hat. Never. Hell, even Freud said that, sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar.
Today, she presented on a book titled The Woman Who Didn't Evolve. Although I can't recall her name, the author wrote it in the late 1970's and, from what I understood, made some reasonable arguments about why females were absent from the scientific discussion of evolution. Unfortunately, none of the reasoning came through in this presentation.
My classmate has a tendency to stray off topic quite easily. For instance, instead of summarizing the book per our assignment, she basically turned it into a rambling indictment of gender descriptions in scientific publication, a half-assed lecture on sexual politics, and failed attempt to flex her intellect. Any credible information she was discussing was buried so deep in her caustic, wandering commentary, there is no way anybody understood a freakin' bit of what she was blathering on and on and on about. Jesus, by the end of her talk, I was almost on the table screaming "Girl Power" and burning a bra. It was supposed to be a book report on evolution, for the love of Pete.
No shit, she came off like any stereotypical "angry feminist" character. My favorite part of her talk came at about 20 minutes into it. (She took the record with a final time of 25 minutes.) She goes to the chalkboard, draws a vagina, identifies the clitoris, and draws three exclamation points. Then, she starts quoting "The Vagina Monologues." I sat there, not believing what I was watching, choking on my laughter, tears welling in my eyes. Today, my tuition was worth every stinking penny.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Road Trip
Last night, I dreamed that I was taking a cross-country road trip with Richard Pryor. He looked just like he did in the 1970's in his early buddy-pictures with Gene Wilder. Anywho, we cruised around in some big old car just hanging out and laughing. At one point, we stopped into his parent's place to pick up some of his things before heading toward California. His parents kept his room up just in case he dropped by for a visit. It was full of old, yellowed newspaper articles about him and various little trophies and awards.So, if you're planning to dream about taking a long road-trip AND if you're still looking for a buddy to tag along, I recommend Richard Pryor.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Wrath of the Ginger
Evolutionary Biology Lab
Over the last few weeks, we've been watching a video about Charles Darwin's life and evolutionary discoveries. (Don't worry, I've made sure to show everyone the sticker on my textbook which clearly states that evolution is only a "theory.") Anywho, the acting in the video is a little hammy and overdone. On many occasions, I've rolled my eyes, chuckled, or moaned aloud at some of the overly dramatic scenes in the film.
Last week's segment included a few scenes in which Darwin's daughter died. Needless to say, this event was quite formative for him, pushing him away from Christianity. Earlier in his life, he was a theology student. After his voyage on the HMS Beagle, he began formulating and developing his theory of evolution and struggled to balance the prevalilng religious attitudes of the time with his scientific work. I digress.
To portray these events, the film shows Darwin taking his daughter to London for medical care. Later, the daughter is shown on her deathbed surrounded by Darwin and the nursemaid/nanny. The next scene might have been the most dramatically overacted, cliché that I've watched in some time.
Here's a description of the offending shot:
It's at this point that a young undergrad woman in front of me, a ginger, turns around, glares at me, and says that "It not funny if you've ever lost someone." The she starts talking to her friends, evidently describing what a dick I am. Honestly, it was almost as overly-dramatic as the film scene I just described.
I love it when people who aren't privvy to an entire conversation butt in with some half-baked commentary. That the death of your child is utterly devestating and life-altering is not lost on me. Nor is lost my my ability to distinguish between a craptastic reenactment and an actual event that demands compassion.
Hair Island, The Secret's Out
Later in the week, our evolution professor was lecturing. We were discussing our evolutionary relatives, chimps and bonobos. He continues by saying that nobody is really sure why we, unlike chimps and bonobos, lost the coarse body hair. "Why do males still have coarse hair on their faces?," he asks, pointing to his own beard. "Why do some of us lose our hair as we get older?," he continues, gesturing at me. I wanted to look to see if he was pointing at someone else. Being one of two male students in the classroom, I knew he was pointing at my hair island.
A hair island is a small, isolated island of hair
Over the last few weeks, we've been watching a video about Charles Darwin's life and evolutionary discoveries. (Don't worry, I've made sure to show everyone the sticker on my textbook which clearly states that evolution is only a "theory.") Anywho, the acting in the video is a little hammy and overdone. On many occasions, I've rolled my eyes, chuckled, or moaned aloud at some of the overly dramatic scenes in the film.
Last week's segment included a few scenes in which Darwin's daughter died. Needless to say, this event was quite formative for him, pushing him away from Christianity. Earlier in his life, he was a theology student. After his voyage on the HMS Beagle, he began formulating and developing his theory of evolution and struggled to balance the prevalilng religious attitudes of the time with his scientific work. I digress.
To portray these events, the film shows Darwin taking his daughter to London for medical care. Later, the daughter is shown on her deathbed surrounded by Darwin and the nursemaid/nanny. The next scene might have been the most dramatically overacted, cliché that I've watched in some time.
Here's a description of the offending shot:
The camera moves toward the rain-streaked glass of a second-story window. As it approaches the window, it pans down into the courtyard. Torrential rain falls. Flashes of lightning illuminate the night sky. In the courtyard, on her knees, is the nursemaid. She's wailing and raising her clinched fists toward the heavens, screaming "Why?!?"I have to tell you, it might have been one of the funniest things that I've seen on film in a long time. (This one seven-second shot was funnier than Nacho Libre.) So, this week before class, I'm discussing it with some of my post-bacc classmates. One woman mentioned that, although she new it was cheesy, she cried during the scene. The rest of us pretty much thought it was hilariously overdone.
It's at this point that a young undergrad woman in front of me, a ginger, turns around, glares at me, and says that "It not funny if you've ever lost someone." The she starts talking to her friends, evidently describing what a dick I am. Honestly, it was almost as overly-dramatic as the film scene I just described.
I love it when people who aren't privvy to an entire conversation butt in with some half-baked commentary. That the death of your child is utterly devestating and life-altering is not lost on me. Nor is lost my my ability to distinguish between a craptastic reenactment and an actual event that demands compassion.
Hair Island, The Secret's Out
Later in the week, our evolution professor was lecturing. We were discussing our evolutionary relatives, chimps and bonobos. He continues by saying that nobody is really sure why we, unlike chimps and bonobos, lost the coarse body hair. "Why do males still have coarse hair on their faces?," he asks, pointing to his own beard. "Why do some of us lose our hair as we get older?," he continues, gesturing at me. I wanted to look to see if he was pointing at someone else. Being one of two male students in the classroom, I knew he was pointing at my hair island.
A hair island is a small, isolated island of haircreated by the backward migration of the hairline.
I politely smiled. And gave him the finger.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Random Thoughts
Fast and furious has been the pace. Apologies for the lack of posts. Here's a quick recap of some funny events of late:
My Wife's Birthday Dinner
To celebrate my wife's birthday, her family took us out to a great meal at Sushi Huku. (If you're a sushi fan, it's probably the best in Atlanta.) Anywho, my father-in-law isn't a big fan of sushi but was a really good sport. He was sitting next to me as I explained to my 7-year old nephew what the "green paste" on his plate was. I told him that it was called wasabi, which is really hot and spicy, and that he shouldn't eat it by itself but mix a little of it in his soy sauce and dip his sushi in it.
Not one minute later, my father-in-law makes a short, odd gasping sound before loudly telling everyone "Don't eat that green stuff, it is HOT!" I think his eyes were watering a little.
Orgo Grade
I made an "A" on my second organic chemistry exam. I'm not stupid, after all. Ahh, the sweet view from the peak that will soon be obscured by my trip to the valley.
Shortcuts in Lab
In one of my biology labs, we were separating DNA and doing an electrophoresis experiment. This involved making a slab of gelatin, injecting DNA into some little wells we made into the slab, submerging the entire thing in an electrolyte solution, and subjecting it to an electrical current. The applied current makes the DNA travel toward the positive pole. By staining the DNA afterwards and examining it, you can make inferences about the DNA based on how far it traveled across the gel.
This thing took forever to finish. At the end of the lab, you have to stain the gel with a carcinogenic solution and then look at it under UV light. Finally, you put it in a fancy photocopier, take a photo and print it for examination. Well, I figured that I'd skip the UV light step and just get right to the photo. My nemesis was behind me in line, jokingly complaining that I'd cut in front of him. I load the gel into the photo machine. Then, as fate would have it, the professor is unable to get an image to show up. She gets a little flustered and asks me what it looked like under the UV light. At this point, my nemesis starts saying that I didn't look at it. I elbowed him a little to shut him up, looked at the professor and said, "It looked crappy." My voice cracked and quickly faded to silence on the word 'crappy.' Science at it's finest. My nemesis was laughing. The prof was a little put out when she told me that I could use a photocopy of someone else's gel. I thanked her and stepped out of my nemesis' way. As I'm leaving the room, I see him hand the gel to the professor. She takes it from him, breaks it, and throws it away. As soon as it was in the waste bin, she realized that he wasn't done with it but, rather, needed to have it photographed. Classic.
That One Guy
My lab partner for organic chemistry is the guy who has a penchant for saying some inappropriate things at inappropriate times. The general consensus is that he doesn't mean anything bad by it but maybe his social filter just is a bit off. As I've learned over the last few months, he picked up some phrases in Iraq and likes to pepper his conversation with them. During casual conversation, he often replies to a simple question with an Arabic sounding word or phrase. Generally, the listener furrows her brow and asks "What does that mean?" which prompts an excited explanation from him. Well, by staying true to form, he earns my distinguished Uncomfortable Moment of the Month Award with this:
My Wife's Birthday Dinner
To celebrate my wife's birthday, her family took us out to a great meal at Sushi Huku. (If you're a sushi fan, it's probably the best in Atlanta.) Anywho, my father-in-law isn't a big fan of sushi but was a really good sport. He was sitting next to me as I explained to my 7-year old nephew what the "green paste" on his plate was. I told him that it was called wasabi, which is really hot and spicy, and that he shouldn't eat it by itself but mix a little of it in his soy sauce and dip his sushi in it.
Not one minute later, my father-in-law makes a short, odd gasping sound before loudly telling everyone "Don't eat that green stuff, it is HOT!" I think his eyes were watering a little.
Orgo Grade
I made an "A" on my second organic chemistry exam. I'm not stupid, after all. Ahh, the sweet view from the peak that will soon be obscured by my trip to the valley.
Shortcuts in Lab
In one of my biology labs, we were separating DNA and doing an electrophoresis experiment. This involved making a slab of gelatin, injecting DNA into some little wells we made into the slab, submerging the entire thing in an electrolyte solution, and subjecting it to an electrical current. The applied current makes the DNA travel toward the positive pole. By staining the DNA afterwards and examining it, you can make inferences about the DNA based on how far it traveled across the gel.
This thing took forever to finish. At the end of the lab, you have to stain the gel with a carcinogenic solution and then look at it under UV light. Finally, you put it in a fancy photocopier, take a photo and print it for examination. Well, I figured that I'd skip the UV light step and just get right to the photo. My nemesis was behind me in line, jokingly complaining that I'd cut in front of him. I load the gel into the photo machine. Then, as fate would have it, the professor is unable to get an image to show up. She gets a little flustered and asks me what it looked like under the UV light. At this point, my nemesis starts saying that I didn't look at it. I elbowed him a little to shut him up, looked at the professor and said, "It looked crappy." My voice cracked and quickly faded to silence on the word 'crappy.' Science at it's finest. My nemesis was laughing. The prof was a little put out when she told me that I could use a photocopy of someone else's gel. I thanked her and stepped out of my nemesis' way. As I'm leaving the room, I see him hand the gel to the professor. She takes it from him, breaks it, and throws it away. As soon as it was in the waste bin, she realized that he wasn't done with it but, rather, needed to have it photographed. Classic.
That One Guy
My lab partner for organic chemistry is the guy who has a penchant for saying some inappropriate things at inappropriate times. The general consensus is that he doesn't mean anything bad by it but maybe his social filter just is a bit off. As I've learned over the last few months, he picked up some phrases in Iraq and likes to pepper his conversation with them. During casual conversation, he often replies to a simple question with an Arabic sounding word or phrase. Generally, the listener furrows her brow and asks "What does that mean?" which prompts an excited explanation from him. Well, by staying true to form, he earns my distinguished Uncomfortable Moment of the Month Award with this:
After lab, I'm chit-chatting with the prof, making small talk. Our professor is a dear, sweet, funny and charismatic woman who's also ridiculously brilliant. I ask her how she's feeling (she's been battling a persistent cold or something) and what costume her daughter was wearing for Halloween. During our conversation, my lab partner walks up and she notices that he looks a little run-down. She politely asks him how he's doing, how he's feeling.
He sighs a little and says something in poorly pronounced Arabic. So, he's dropped the word, beginning the dance. Our professor plays along and asks what it means. His explanation: "Bend over, here it comes again."
She gets this confused look, blinks here eyes a bunch, and tries to make sense of it. I mutter "My God, man," shake my head, and immediately walk away. As I'm leaving the room, out the door, I hear him offer this gem, "I'm sorry ma'am, I was in the military."
???
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Revenge of the Nerds (Redux)
Another long stretch of time has passed, obviously, and I've no real idea where it went. It's just gone. I looked up and it's nearly November...and freezing.
More of the usual at school. Heads really down in the books, trying to keep up with everything. I'm past the half point, now; coming out of the woods instead of going into them. I'm constantly overwhelmed and lacking time to think straight.
Here's an interesting non-science tidbit: Apparently "Revenge of the Nerds" is being remade with a cast of people I don't recognize. The only reason I know this is that for the last two weeks, campus has been turned into a movie set. To put it politely, it's been more than annoying. I alternate between scratching my head, muttering about how Hollywood really has run out of ideas if they're remaking this one, and trying to understand how this movie was filmed on this campus.
Seriously, a remake of this movie? Really? Is it warranted? C'mon, the nerds won. Remember the software boom of the 80's and 90's? The name "Bill Gates" ring a bell? It's over; the nerds have had their revenge. Hell, if anything, a "Revenge of the Jocks" movie would make a little more sense at his point.
Also, the remake was filmed at a private, liberal, women's college full of bright, young, enlightened ladies. How the hell did this movie get made here of all places? Did nobody on the faculty and staff see the original movie? Being the oldest of my classmates, nobody really remembers it. I've tried, with limited success, to explain it to them. As I give them the synopsis, their jaws gape in disbelief.
Do you remember this one? Really, it was little more than tits and ass and gross out jokes pitting stereotypical horny nerds against stereotypical womanizing jocks. That's all; the end. Admittedly, I thought the movie, at the time (1984), was hysterical. (The full-frontal female nudity was a big plus, in my opinion.) If you've seen the movie, it probably changed your vocabulary a little bit. What one line or two do you recall from the film? Hmmm. Think about it. Having trouble? Peruse this list of "memorable quotes."
How about the pivotal scene? Remember when the nerd leader beds the alpha jock's super-hot gal? Remember how this happens? Halloween carnival. Smoke machine. Haunted house or something. Anywho, the nerd wearing a Darth Vader mask has sex with the hottie. She, on the other hand, thinks it's her boyfriend who's giving her the business. After everything is done, he takes off the mask for the big surprise: the revelation of his true identity! At the time, it pretty awesome: it gave us nerds hope that one day, we could seduce beautiful women. Reflecting on it now, I'm pretty sure that what occurs in that scene would be considered rape.
Can you believe that this gem of the silver screen is proudly being remade here at my private, liberal women's college? Evidently, a little over $100,000 will make you overlook these things.
Here's the best thing: As a little wrap party, the campus is providing pizza and inviting all the students to a screening of the original movie. !!! I'm almost certain that the person who came up with this idea has seen the movie a few times on television after heavy editing for content and will be in for a huge surprise when showing the original.
I'm definitely going to be there for the fireworks.
More of the usual at school. Heads really down in the books, trying to keep up with everything. I'm past the half point, now; coming out of the woods instead of going into them. I'm constantly overwhelmed and lacking time to think straight.
Here's an interesting non-science tidbit: Apparently "Revenge of the Nerds" is being remade with a cast of people I don't recognize. The only reason I know this is that for the last two weeks, campus has been turned into a movie set. To put it politely, it's been more than annoying. I alternate between scratching my head, muttering about how Hollywood really has run out of ideas if they're remaking this one, and trying to understand how this movie was filmed on this campus.
Seriously, a remake of this movie? Really? Is it warranted? C'mon, the nerds won. Remember the software boom of the 80's and 90's? The name "Bill Gates" ring a bell? It's over; the nerds have had their revenge. Hell, if anything, a "Revenge of the Jocks" movie would make a little more sense at his point.
Also, the remake was filmed at a private, liberal, women's college full of bright, young, enlightened ladies. How the hell did this movie get made here of all places? Did nobody on the faculty and staff see the original movie? Being the oldest of my classmates, nobody really remembers it. I've tried, with limited success, to explain it to them. As I give them the synopsis, their jaws gape in disbelief.
Do you remember this one? Really, it was little more than tits and ass and gross out jokes pitting stereotypical horny nerds against stereotypical womanizing jocks. That's all; the end. Admittedly, I thought the movie, at the time (1984), was hysterical. (The full-frontal female nudity was a big plus, in my opinion.) If you've seen the movie, it probably changed your vocabulary a little bit. What one line or two do you recall from the film? Hmmm. Think about it. Having trouble? Peruse this list of "memorable quotes."
How about the pivotal scene? Remember when the nerd leader beds the alpha jock's super-hot gal? Remember how this happens? Halloween carnival. Smoke machine. Haunted house or something. Anywho, the nerd wearing a Darth Vader mask has sex with the hottie. She, on the other hand, thinks it's her boyfriend who's giving her the business. After everything is done, he takes off the mask for the big surprise: the revelation of his true identity! At the time, it pretty awesome: it gave us nerds hope that one day, we could seduce beautiful women. Reflecting on it now, I'm pretty sure that what occurs in that scene would be considered rape.
Can you believe that this gem of the silver screen is proudly being remade here at my private, liberal women's college? Evidently, a little over $100,000 will make you overlook these things.
Here's the best thing: As a little wrap party, the campus is providing pizza and inviting all the students to a screening of the original movie. !!! I'm almost certain that the person who came up with this idea has seen the movie a few times on television after heavy editing for content and will be in for a huge surprise when showing the original.
I'm definitely going to be there for the fireworks.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Soooo Much Better Than a Space Pen
Okay, perhaps I've been putting in entirely too much time with the books. I may as well be chained to my desk here at the house. I feel like I'm truly missing the fall, my favorite time of the year. Courtesy of this ridiculous schedule I've thrown myself into, I've missed the mornings becoming crisper, walks with my dog, grabbing coffee with my wife, most college football games (although UGA isn't playing that well), and most playoff baseball games (although the Bosox faded in September).
This weekend, I did allow myself to watch a couple of baseball games and pledged to promptly get a TiVo. How hot are the Tigers? I'm liking them to win it all; they're en fuego. (Now, your turn to make some "racially insensitive" jokes and get fired.) Seriously, how great was Magg's walk-off homer to win the series? It was fate, wasn't it? Didn't you just know he was going to crush it? That is October. And baseball. And all things good about life.
On the plus side of studying so much, I've started having nutty dreams again. Here's what made me wake up laughing this morning:
This weekend, I did allow myself to watch a couple of baseball games and pledged to promptly get a TiVo. How hot are the Tigers? I'm liking them to win it all; they're en fuego. (Now, your turn to make some "racially insensitive" jokes and get fired.) Seriously, how great was Magg's walk-off homer to win the series? It was fate, wasn't it? Didn't you just know he was going to crush it? That is October. And baseball. And all things good about life.
On the plus side of studying so much, I've started having nutty dreams again. Here's what made me wake up laughing this morning:
In my dream, I was about to buy a pen that recycled feces into ink. The advertisements remarked that it would never run dry because it ran on biofuel. As I really, really hate running out of ink and consume my daily recommended amount of fiber, I suppose I was the ideal customer. Basically, you drop a deuce, collect it, put it into you pen, and you're ready to write. How simple is that?
The pen itself was larger than a jumbo tube of toothpaste with an enormous opening at end, presumably for loading. It was a bright shiny red, almost like a color you'd see on an expensive sportscar. It came in standard size and a limited edition, "supermodel" version which had a much, much smaller fuel capacity. It was a size difference on the order of putting a giant, novelty cigar next to a Virginia Slims cigarette.
I should get one of these things. Then, everything I wrote really would be crap. I've a sneaking suspicion, though, that the reality wouldn't be nearly as impressive. It would, however, break me of chewing on my pen.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Boys and Girls (and Tainted Hummus) in America
Back in July, I wrote that J3K, Rob, and I had formed a band, Tainted Hummus (24 July post). Anywho, we'd set 04 OCT as the date that we'd play at the EARL. Things were looking pretty grim that we'd actually meet the date. In addition to not practicing, we didn't get any sort of billing for the night's show at the EARL featuring The Hold Steady. It seemed a that Tainted Hummus would not be performing.
Walking up to the EARL, I mentioned to my wife and Rob that I had a good feeling about the show. I thought that we'd meet the band or something. Once inside, we parked it right in front of the stage about three feet from the microphone and held our ground. The Hold Steady came on and just ripped the roof off the place. They wowed me back in February and far surpassed themselves with this show. What a fantastic band. At one point, Craig Finn, the lead singer, says "I feel sorry for all you people who have to go to work tomorrow; we're going to have a good time tonight." Man, he was right.
I had one drunk kid to my right who couldn't stand up. After he continued to fall up against me, I just started to step out of his way and let him land on the floor. He looked a little puzzled, bent down to tie his shoes, and assured me that he'd just "put double knots in them" so he wouldn't be falling down anymore. The next time he fell on his ass, I suggested that he should probably look into triple or quadruple knots.
After what was an utterly amazing show, the band came out for a couple of encores. To our surprise, we got called up on stage along with several other folks in the front row to help close out the final song of the second encore. Amazing! Technically, Tainted Hummus joined The Hold Steady on-stage for their encore. We did, in fact, keep our promise to play on that night although only 2/3 of the band was there. Pretty good, I'd say. I got home about 1:30am and went to bed happy and with ringing ears.
As fate would have it, though, 2/3 of the band joined The Hold Steady on stage at the end of the second encore to help them close out the show. Technically, we did perform on the date we'd selected. I love keeping my word.
If you get the chance, do whatever it takes to see them. Do not miss their show. Wear earplugs and take the next day off. You'll be happy you did.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
SmileMakers
In the kitchen, I find a little plastic bag that my wife has brought home from the dentist. It, no doubt, was the goodie bag she got after her visit. I guess after harvesting the freebies (toothbrush, mini-roll of floss, red plaque tablets, lollipop) she put the bag in the "doggie-bag" area. These miscellaneous bags are the life-blood of dog owners. Mostly, they are plastic grocery bags used to pick up the enormous, steaming turds that our dog, Dylan, only seems to deposit when we take him on walks. Anywho, the dog owner's lament is picking up hot, stinky crap and portering it to the nearest trashcan. This bag will change everything.
For some reason, using this bag for poop will really make me laugh.
For some reason, using this bag for poop will really make me laugh.Obviously, I've not been getting much sleep lately.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Kudos Pitchfork; Sorry "Jet"
Every day I check out Pitchfork for reviews, news and such about the independent music scene. Many times I think the writing staff puts together some great reviews that mix humor, a wide breadth of musical knowledge, and an analytic approach. Other times, they come off as pretentious, music-snob asses with a grudge.
Today, I may have stumbled onto one of the best reviews I've seen in many years of reading their site. It's stunning in its simplicity yet it perfectly describes the reviewer's thoughts and feelings about the record.
Normally, albums receive a score on a scale of 10. If you're ranking 7.5 or up, you've garnered a good review. Well, the gang over at Pitchfork didn't feel compelled to give the new Jet album, "Shine On," a score. Check the review here. It's a modern classic. (I'm referring to the review; stay the hell away from the album.)
Today, I may have stumbled onto one of the best reviews I've seen in many years of reading their site. It's stunning in its simplicity yet it perfectly describes the reviewer's thoughts and feelings about the record.
Normally, albums receive a score on a scale of 10. If you're ranking 7.5 or up, you've garnered a good review. Well, the gang over at Pitchfork didn't feel compelled to give the new Jet album, "Shine On," a score. Check the review here. It's a modern classic. (I'm referring to the review; stay the hell away from the album.)
Sunday, October 01, 2006
That Hurt a Little
Last couple of weeks have had me on the ropes. Seriously, if I just had about 8 more hours each day, I think I'd be just fine. I'm starting to settle into things but getting nowhere near comfortable. Here's a brief recap of notable events in the last couple of weeks:
My Family Tree Is Losing All Its Leaves
My Aunt Ruth, my grandmother's sister, died some days ago. She was 92 or 93 and had lived quite a full life but died rather suddenly and unexpectedly. Because of exams and such, I couldn't attend the funeral. Because Aunt Ruth had always lived in a different city, I never got to know her terribly well but I really liked her. She had a ridiculously adventurous spirit and was a feisty lady.
It was always fun and funny to see the two old sisters together. My grandmother, who everyone called 'Bamba,' was the younger sister. Ruth was the older sister that everyone sort of saw as the risque, fun-loving, free-spirited one. Put them together and you had fireworks.
A year or two before Bamba died, Aunt Ruth came for a visit. This was right around the time I proposed to my wife. Luckily, we had gone to visit everyone and share the good news. This was after Bamba's stroke, so she spoke in a gentle but hoarse whisper. Aunt Ruth, on the other hand, had not problem speaking loudly. Unfortunately, she was nearly deaf. So, you put them in the room and let them go. One could hear but not talk; the other couldn't hear a thing unless you were yelling but spoke quite loudly. After a few minutes, the two sisters were just laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all.
When Bamba died a few years back, I gave the eulogy at her funeral. I consider what I said on that day to be one of my life's achievements. Afterward, Aunt Ruth found me at the grave site and thanked me for my words. As sad as I was in that moment, I felt even sadder for Ruth: she was the sole survivor among her siblings. I'm compelled to believe that, now, however, they're all reunited: laughing until they cry, getting louder and louder.
Exams and More Exams
Obviously, the exams of the last couple of weeks were paramount to almost everything. Seems everyone in the program is a little shell-shocked from it all. I'm reconsidering whether four simultaneous lab classes was really the best idea. Anywho, seems a little silly to bitch and complain about it. I'm trying to just think of it as a precursor to the strain of medical school. Yeah! That way, instead of thinking about it as "only several more weeks to the semester," I can really expand it to "only several more years of this shit." It really makes all the difference.
Fetal Pig Dissection
We started the fetal pig dissection a couple of weeks ago. The fact that I never had an anatomy class or did a thorough dissection makes this pretty cool. Our pig is a huge, well-developed, hairy female that my partner and I named "Butters." Honestly, dissection is pretty damned cool but awfully violent. It really takes a sort of detachment to step back from the object as a living thing and try to approach it scientifically. We've dissected several systems by now: digestive, reproductive, circulatory, respiratory, and excretory. The body is absolutely amazing. Considering how everything fits together and works is absolutely enthralling. I just wish that the damned preservative chemicals weren't so unpleasantly fragrant; they stick with you for hours. Butters really stinks.
One way to really alienate everyone in your lab class (including the instructor): announce that for Halloween, you're going to wear an apron made of fetal pigs. The reaction is classic.
My Family Tree Is Losing All Its Leaves
My Aunt Ruth, my grandmother's sister, died some days ago. She was 92 or 93 and had lived quite a full life but died rather suddenly and unexpectedly. Because of exams and such, I couldn't attend the funeral. Because Aunt Ruth had always lived in a different city, I never got to know her terribly well but I really liked her. She had a ridiculously adventurous spirit and was a feisty lady.
It was always fun and funny to see the two old sisters together. My grandmother, who everyone called 'Bamba,' was the younger sister. Ruth was the older sister that everyone sort of saw as the risque, fun-loving, free-spirited one. Put them together and you had fireworks.
A year or two before Bamba died, Aunt Ruth came for a visit. This was right around the time I proposed to my wife. Luckily, we had gone to visit everyone and share the good news. This was after Bamba's stroke, so she spoke in a gentle but hoarse whisper. Aunt Ruth, on the other hand, had not problem speaking loudly. Unfortunately, she was nearly deaf. So, you put them in the room and let them go. One could hear but not talk; the other couldn't hear a thing unless you were yelling but spoke quite loudly. After a few minutes, the two sisters were just laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all.
When Bamba died a few years back, I gave the eulogy at her funeral. I consider what I said on that day to be one of my life's achievements. Afterward, Aunt Ruth found me at the grave site and thanked me for my words. As sad as I was in that moment, I felt even sadder for Ruth: she was the sole survivor among her siblings. I'm compelled to believe that, now, however, they're all reunited: laughing until they cry, getting louder and louder.
Exams and More Exams
Obviously, the exams of the last couple of weeks were paramount to almost everything. Seems everyone in the program is a little shell-shocked from it all. I'm reconsidering whether four simultaneous lab classes was really the best idea. Anywho, seems a little silly to bitch and complain about it. I'm trying to just think of it as a precursor to the strain of medical school. Yeah! That way, instead of thinking about it as "only several more weeks to the semester," I can really expand it to "only several more years of this shit." It really makes all the difference.
Fetal Pig Dissection
We started the fetal pig dissection a couple of weeks ago. The fact that I never had an anatomy class or did a thorough dissection makes this pretty cool. Our pig is a huge, well-developed, hairy female that my partner and I named "Butters." Honestly, dissection is pretty damned cool but awfully violent. It really takes a sort of detachment to step back from the object as a living thing and try to approach it scientifically. We've dissected several systems by now: digestive, reproductive, circulatory, respiratory, and excretory. The body is absolutely amazing. Considering how everything fits together and works is absolutely enthralling. I just wish that the damned preservative chemicals weren't so unpleasantly fragrant; they stick with you for hours. Butters really stinks.
One way to really alienate everyone in your lab class (including the instructor): announce that for Halloween, you're going to wear an apron made of fetal pigs. The reaction is classic.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Results Are In (25% of Precincts Reporting)
Last couple of weeks have been hellish. I've much more to write about when I get a little breathing room. Here's a brief recap of how the exams went (in the order they were taken):
As a result of all the exams, I'm sort of getting used to going to bed around midnight and getting up at 5:00 in the morning. I think I might've mentioned that the general stress was finally getting to everyone causing some general shortness and snippiness among some of the group. Really, if you blow a test or two, it probably doesn't mean that you won't get into a medical school, you know? It's hard for me to believe that some of the folks can maintain their astronomical stress levels.
We got the first test back yesterday: the microbology (191) exam. The prof begins by stating that, out of a total of 75 points, the average score was a 55. The high score was 74.5 and the low score was 24. Yahtzee!!! I'd prepared myself to be at the bottom. Seriously, if you knew exactly how little preparation I put into this one, you'd realize that I'm not underestimating myself. She hands back the exams about five minutes before I was to sit for my Organic Chem exam. Without looking at it, I put it right into my notebook, close it, and went to take the chem exam. I didn't want to be thinking about the bio exam score while taking an exam.
Honestly, I forgot about the thing until a few minutes ago. Sitting alone at my desk with my wife and puppy asleep in another room, I opened the notebook, pulled out the exam (still face-down), and studied the anonymous back of the paper. After a quick prayer, I turned it over to reveal that I'd beaten the average by a point and a half and checked in with a solid C.
Thankfully, I didn't get the 24. Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one.
More results to come.
- BIO 191 Exam - feces
- BIO 196 Exam - fair
- PHY 102 Exam - pretty well
- CHE 201 Exam - fair
As a result of all the exams, I'm sort of getting used to going to bed around midnight and getting up at 5:00 in the morning. I think I might've mentioned that the general stress was finally getting to everyone causing some general shortness and snippiness among some of the group. Really, if you blow a test or two, it probably doesn't mean that you won't get into a medical school, you know? It's hard for me to believe that some of the folks can maintain their astronomical stress levels.
We got the first test back yesterday: the microbology (191) exam. The prof begins by stating that, out of a total of 75 points, the average score was a 55. The high score was 74.5 and the low score was 24. Yahtzee!!! I'd prepared myself to be at the bottom. Seriously, if you knew exactly how little preparation I put into this one, you'd realize that I'm not underestimating myself. She hands back the exams about five minutes before I was to sit for my Organic Chem exam. Without looking at it, I put it right into my notebook, close it, and went to take the chem exam. I didn't want to be thinking about the bio exam score while taking an exam.
Honestly, I forgot about the thing until a few minutes ago. Sitting alone at my desk with my wife and puppy asleep in another room, I opened the notebook, pulled out the exam (still face-down), and studied the anonymous back of the paper. After a quick prayer, I turned it over to reveal that I'd beaten the average by a point and a half and checked in with a solid C.
Thankfully, I didn't get the 24. Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one.
More results to come.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
All Things Go, All Things Go
Two tests today. Two more next week. I probably should've put in more time at the books but what can you do?
Yesterday was my 3rd wedding anniversary. Instead of studying all night, my wife and I celebrated a little by taking in the Sufjan Stevens concert at The Fox. We had 3rd row seats for what was an amazing show. If you haven't yet, check him out. If, by chance, someone tries really hard to sell you on the opening act, "My Brightest Diamond," you should immediately flee and avoid future contact with that person as they are not your friend.
More soon.
Yesterday was my 3rd wedding anniversary. Instead of studying all night, my wife and I celebrated a little by taking in the Sufjan Stevens concert at The Fox. We had 3rd row seats for what was an amazing show. If you haven't yet, check him out. If, by chance, someone tries really hard to sell you on the opening act, "My Brightest Diamond," you should immediately flee and avoid future contact with that person as they are not your friend.
More soon.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Believe It Or Not
Yesterday, I went to lunch with a few classmates. We drove in my friend's car to this little Jamaican place in Decatur. On the way, we're listening to a mixtape that she'd received from a friend. It was a pretty good selection, by the way. After lunch, we're riding back to campus and "Believe It Or Not" starts playing.
"The Greatest American Hero": one of my favorite shows from 1981-83.
I told them that I had the record (45rpm) and that I loved the short-lived "The Greatest American Hero" television show starring Mr. William Katt. I got nothing but blank stares. I explained that "Believe It or Not" was the theme song to the series. I got more blank stares.
My friend said that she just thought it was a song and knew nothing about the show. Man, that hurt. I explained the premise of the show: nice guy high school teacher receives special superhero suit from aliens and promptly loses instruction manual. He and his colleagues get into wacky adventures fighting crime. I don't think they were that impressed by the premise. From what I recall, considering I was only eight or nine during the series' run, I thought it was really cool.
Fifteen minutes later, we're walking back into the building another classmate admits that she, at that very moment, got the Seinfeld bit about George's answering machine message. Classic.
Believe It Or Not (2006)
Look at what's happened to me,
I can't believe it myself,
Fully surrounded by all of these girls,
Older than everyone else.
Believe it or not,
I'm losing my hair,
never thought I'd be thirty-three
Trying all day to look like I care
About chemistry
Believe it or not, it's just me.
(As a bonus, check out Joey Scarsbury performing 1981's 14th most popular song on Solid Gold! Where have you gone, Joey?)
"The Greatest American Hero": one of my favorite shows from 1981-83.I told them that I had the record (45rpm) and that I loved the short-lived "The Greatest American Hero" television show starring Mr. William Katt. I got nothing but blank stares. I explained that "Believe It or Not" was the theme song to the series. I got more blank stares.
My friend said that she just thought it was a song and knew nothing about the show. Man, that hurt. I explained the premise of the show: nice guy high school teacher receives special superhero suit from aliens and promptly loses instruction manual. He and his colleagues get into wacky adventures fighting crime. I don't think they were that impressed by the premise. From what I recall, considering I was only eight or nine during the series' run, I thought it was really cool.
Fifteen minutes later, we're walking back into the building another classmate admits that she, at that very moment, got the Seinfeld bit about George's answering machine message. Classic.
Believe It Or Not (2006)
Look at what's happened to me,
I can't believe it myself,
Fully surrounded by all of these girls,
Older than everyone else.
Believe it or not,
I'm losing my hair,
never thought I'd be thirty-three
Trying all day to look like I care
About chemistry
Believe it or not, it's just me.
(As a bonus, check out Joey Scarsbury performing 1981's 14th most popular song on Solid Gold! Where have you gone, Joey?)
Thursday, September 14, 2006
The Rules
Just want to wish a heart felt "kudos" to the heavy-set African-American woman who, yesterday, wore to class a shirt that read:
"I have the pussy, so I make the rules."
Do they make shirts that argue the contrary? If so, could I wear one to campus without incident? Probably not, I think. Anywho, good for her. It made me drop my pencil when I saw it.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Do You Have Any Idea How This Makes Me Feel?
Physics, your name is cursed.
Oh what a wonderful week of Mondays! Finally, I found my "oh shit" place for the semester. I predicted that, for everyone in the program, it was Monday plus or minus 72 hours. Seems I was spot on with the estimate. Everyone has been walking around with that dazed look, wondering if we'll make it out of this thing alive.
Next week, I have two Biology tests, back-to-back. A few days later, I follow-up with Organic and Physics. How awesome is that? Pretty good, huh? Right now, I'm just fighting to keep my head above water with this crap. How am I supposed to walk on top of it?
On the plus side, no women have walked into the restroom while I was doing my business.
Colored Chalk Earns Favor, Doesn't It?
So, after two weeks of watching our physics prof scratch his head while drawing increasingly complex graphs and hearing him mutter how he's forgotten the colored chalk once again, I took the initiative to buy a bunch of it an just donate it to the cause. You know, it's only a ridiculously expensive private women's college; no hope for getting any chalk at that place. Hell, I've seen professors eating from dumpsters behind the building because of the lack of funding. Sad, really.
I bought a few boxes for $0.50 each and left them in my locker at school, relishing the idea of taking them to class and offering them at the opportune moment. Today, that moment happened. Instead of waiting for him to begin cross-hatching lines or drawing squiggly ones, I immediately offered up the goodies.
He was genuinely surprised and appreciative. I think the class was appreciative, too. When the prof asked me what it would cost him, the woman next to me piped up with "An 'A'." Not bad, I thought but I wasn't brown-nosing for a grade, I just can understand what the hell he's talking about when the board becomes a Jackson Pollock work in white chalk. Again, he asked me what he owed me.
"Fifty cents," I answered.
"C'mon, really, how much did it cost?," he persisted.
"Really, it was only fifty cents. Don't worry about it. It's my gift."
"Really? How much?"
"You owe me seventy dollars," I told him. "Really, don't worry about it. It's nothing." The class laughed and then enjoyed the wonderful multi-colored vector drawings.
... 5 Hours Later in Physics Lab ...
Later, we're in physics lab waiting. We're doing a lab that, under normal circumstances, would require us to conduct a free-fall experiment and then calculate the velocity, acceleration of the object. Well, the college doesn't have a "free-fall" machine, so he gave us the data to use. We performed the calculations and plotted our findings onto two graphs so that we could see the trends.
Today, no fooling, it took me ages to just get the scale of the axis drawn on the graph. Really, who uses graph paper any more? To make a long story shorter, we fight through all of the plotting, identify the slope of the line using an equation, and work through the given problem set. Before we left, we asked him to sign us out of the lab so we could split. He asks to see our work. Upon receiving it, he immediately commences the ass-whipping. Today, it was my turn to be the recipient. It went something like this:
"Who drew this graph? Why isn't your line smooth?," he asked incredulously.
"I did, sir. I just connected everything out of habit. I added a trend line it's just really faint," I respond.
"Why did you draw it like this? This isn't a straight line; you can't use this graph. How can you get a slope if you don't have a straight line on this?," he continued, throwing his hands up and shaking his head.
"Well, professor, I did add the trend line; I'm used to graphing with Excel. It's been about 15 years since I've done anything like this by hand."
"This is unusable. This is... Do you have any idea how this makes me feel?"
"I think I'm starting to get a very clear picture, sir," I jab.
"This is bad," he added, gesturing and shaking and pointing. He was wild-eyed and furious, a perfect caricature of an old man getting really bent out of shape over something trivial. "What do you mean dinner is served at 4:45pm? It's 4:30! It's always been 4:30!"
At that point, I sort of tuned out to what he was saying. Took a deep breath and watched him conduct his symphony of my deficiencies as a physics student. My proudest moment.
When he walked away, I whisper "But I brought you colored chalk!" and pack my bag, mutter a fantastic string of obscenities, and stagger toward the door.
The offending graph.
Oh what a wonderful week of Mondays! Finally, I found my "oh shit" place for the semester. I predicted that, for everyone in the program, it was Monday plus or minus 72 hours. Seems I was spot on with the estimate. Everyone has been walking around with that dazed look, wondering if we'll make it out of this thing alive.
Next week, I have two Biology tests, back-to-back. A few days later, I follow-up with Organic and Physics. How awesome is that? Pretty good, huh? Right now, I'm just fighting to keep my head above water with this crap. How am I supposed to walk on top of it?
On the plus side, no women have walked into the restroom while I was doing my business.
Colored Chalk Earns Favor, Doesn't It?
So, after two weeks of watching our physics prof scratch his head while drawing increasingly complex graphs and hearing him mutter how he's forgotten the colored chalk once again, I took the initiative to buy a bunch of it an just donate it to the cause. You know, it's only a ridiculously expensive private women's college; no hope for getting any chalk at that place. Hell, I've seen professors eating from dumpsters behind the building because of the lack of funding. Sad, really.
I bought a few boxes for $0.50 each and left them in my locker at school, relishing the idea of taking them to class and offering them at the opportune moment. Today, that moment happened. Instead of waiting for him to begin cross-hatching lines or drawing squiggly ones, I immediately offered up the goodies.
He was genuinely surprised and appreciative. I think the class was appreciative, too. When the prof asked me what it would cost him, the woman next to me piped up with "An 'A'." Not bad, I thought but I wasn't brown-nosing for a grade, I just can understand what the hell he's talking about when the board becomes a Jackson Pollock work in white chalk. Again, he asked me what he owed me.
"Fifty cents," I answered.
"C'mon, really, how much did it cost?," he persisted.
"Really, it was only fifty cents. Don't worry about it. It's my gift."
"Really? How much?"
"You owe me seventy dollars," I told him. "Really, don't worry about it. It's nothing." The class laughed and then enjoyed the wonderful multi-colored vector drawings.
... 5 Hours Later in Physics Lab ...
Later, we're in physics lab waiting. We're doing a lab that, under normal circumstances, would require us to conduct a free-fall experiment and then calculate the velocity, acceleration of the object. Well, the college doesn't have a "free-fall" machine, so he gave us the data to use. We performed the calculations and plotted our findings onto two graphs so that we could see the trends.
Today, no fooling, it took me ages to just get the scale of the axis drawn on the graph. Really, who uses graph paper any more? To make a long story shorter, we fight through all of the plotting, identify the slope of the line using an equation, and work through the given problem set. Before we left, we asked him to sign us out of the lab so we could split. He asks to see our work. Upon receiving it, he immediately commences the ass-whipping. Today, it was my turn to be the recipient. It went something like this:
"Who drew this graph? Why isn't your line smooth?," he asked incredulously.
"I did, sir. I just connected everything out of habit. I added a trend line it's just really faint," I respond.
"Why did you draw it like this? This isn't a straight line; you can't use this graph. How can you get a slope if you don't have a straight line on this?," he continued, throwing his hands up and shaking his head.
"Well, professor, I did add the trend line; I'm used to graphing with Excel. It's been about 15 years since I've done anything like this by hand."
"This is unusable. This is... Do you have any idea how this makes me feel?"
"I think I'm starting to get a very clear picture, sir," I jab.
"This is bad," he added, gesturing and shaking and pointing. He was wild-eyed and furious, a perfect caricature of an old man getting really bent out of shape over something trivial. "What do you mean dinner is served at 4:45pm? It's 4:30! It's always been 4:30!"
At that point, I sort of tuned out to what he was saying. Took a deep breath and watched him conduct his symphony of my deficiencies as a physics student. My proudest moment.
When he walked away, I whisper "But I brought you colored chalk!" and pack my bag, mutter a fantastic string of obscenities, and stagger toward the door.
The offending graph.Consequently, I showed it to my dog and he thought it was great.
Friday, September 08, 2006
El Baño de La Diabla
As I've mentioned before, Tuesdays and Thursdays are my "hell" days. Start early and go relatively non-stop through the day. Not really any time to eat, drink, go to the bathroom, or do anything apart from sitting in class taking notes, trying to learn.
When class ended, I was about to pee myself. I left the room and quickly headed into the restroom. I'm taking a leak in this tiny cave of a bathroom. Just when I was becoming confident that my bladder was not, in fact, going to rupture out of my abdomen, a young woman flings the door open and takes a few steps into the room. Confused, I look over at her. She looks up at me, sees me looking at her, loudly shrieks, and runs out of the room.
She was surprised to see me in the Men's restroom.
In fact, I was terribly surprised to see her.
Funny, I never thought that minding my own business and taking a leak in the proper restroom would cause me any more trauma than normal. Either campus security or the lacrosse team is going to be gunning for me, I can feel it. The pandora's box is opened! How long will it take for a sexual harassment charge to be dropped from your record?
Doesn't matter, I'm afraid to go to the bathroom now; I'll always be looking over my shoulder.
Is it safe?
Women have the whole damned campus. Really, can't we at least have the men's restroom as refuge?
When class ended, I was about to pee myself. I left the room and quickly headed into the restroom. I'm taking a leak in this tiny cave of a bathroom. Just when I was becoming confident that my bladder was not, in fact, going to rupture out of my abdomen, a young woman flings the door open and takes a few steps into the room. Confused, I look over at her. She looks up at me, sees me looking at her, loudly shrieks, and runs out of the room.
She was surprised to see me in the Men's restroom.
In fact, I was terribly surprised to see her.Funny, I never thought that minding my own business and taking a leak in the proper restroom would cause me any more trauma than normal. Either campus security or the lacrosse team is going to be gunning for me, I can feel it. The pandora's box is opened! How long will it take for a sexual harassment charge to be dropped from your record?
Doesn't matter, I'm afraid to go to the bathroom now; I'll always be looking over my shoulder.
Is it safe?Women have the whole damned campus. Really, can't we at least have the men's restroom as refuge?
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
The Secret Nature of Vectors
"The Secret Nature of Vectors" was the title of today's Physics lecture. It was less of a lecture, really, and more of a discussion of a seemingly disconnected series of random topics. Our professor reminds me of an aged Jeff Goldblum mixed slightly with Richard Lewis and Frazier Crane. He's terribly smart but, in my opinion, has so much going on upstairs that it gets lost in translation on the way out to the rest of us. Going to class is more of an entertaining experience than an informative one. Really, he's a riot.
Anywho, he writes this on the board and I'm thinking that it sounds like the middle chapter of a bad novel.
Tomorrow is another "hell day." All classes and labs back to back to friggin' back. Maybe we'll continue the discussion of the bee dance in my Animal Bio class. Evidently, we'll be tested on interpreting a bee dance. When a honey bee enters the hive with pollen, it does a dance by doing a little "waggle" of it's abdomen and walking in a figure eight pattern. This dance indicates the direction and distance that other bees should fly to reach the pollen source. Actually, it's pretty cool stuff. I think I'm gonna start doing it in the lobby when classes let out and just see how long it takes me to get tackled by the campus cops.
Gender Ratio
The whole gender ratio hasn't been as bad as I was expecting. I thought I'd be completely overwhelmed by being one of the few men. It's not really so bad. Yesterday, one of the women in the program asked if I thought any of the undergrad women were noticing me. I told her I really hoped so because it's too hot to keep wearing the leather chaps and because I haven't been shaving and oiling my chest for nothing.
Anywho, he writes this on the board and I'm thinking that it sounds like the middle chapter of a bad novel.
Yes. It's driving me mad. Week two and it's driving me mad. Hopeless isn't it?Chapter 6: The Secret Nature of VectorsSome noise outside woke him. A cat knocking cans out of the garbage? A gunshot a few streets over? Slowly, he reclined back into the old caved mattress, careful to turn his body so that he springs would miss his spine, his shoulder blades, the healing gunshot wound on his left buttock. Inches below the cracked plaster ceiling, he could make out the dusty fan blades lazily tracing their arc. The medicine was still making him nauseous. After two weeks, he thought it might go away. With each dose, he was surprised to find himself queasy.
Alone in the dark, he rubbed his eyes, yawned, and scratched his lower belly. He replayed the night of the shooting over in his head, as he often did since then. His half-hearted laugh broke the silence when he asked himself why he didn't just continue for another 25 meters 45 degrees north of east. If he had, his net displacement would have certainly put him out of harm's way.
Gingerly, he rolled onto his side, avoiding any pressure on the wound. He felt the bandage and then the mattress for dampness. Again, it had wept through the bandage. Again, he'd have to change the dressing by himself, awkwardly in front of the mirror. He tried to fill his mind with thoughts of her as he buried his face deeply into the pillow and breathed in the fading scent of her hair.
Tomorrow is another "hell day." All classes and labs back to back to friggin' back. Maybe we'll continue the discussion of the bee dance in my Animal Bio class. Evidently, we'll be tested on interpreting a bee dance. When a honey bee enters the hive with pollen, it does a dance by doing a little "waggle" of it's abdomen and walking in a figure eight pattern. This dance indicates the direction and distance that other bees should fly to reach the pollen source. Actually, it's pretty cool stuff. I think I'm gonna start doing it in the lobby when classes let out and just see how long it takes me to get tackled by the campus cops.
Gender Ratio
The whole gender ratio hasn't been as bad as I was expecting. I thought I'd be completely overwhelmed by being one of the few men. It's not really so bad. Yesterday, one of the women in the program asked if I thought any of the undergrad women were noticing me. I told her I really hoped so because it's too hot to keep wearing the leather chaps and because I haven't been shaving and oiling my chest for nothing.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Back to the Grind
Well, I'm at it again. Today was the second day of class. Here's what I'm taking:
It's quite strange to have the campus flooded with women. By "strange," I mean that I'm willing to allow my single male friends to carry my books for me for a small fee of $50 a day.
One guy in the program showed up to his class just before it started. When he walked into the lecture hall, the room quickly fell silent. When he took a seat in the front row, he could hear everyone asking why the professor was sitting. He had to inform everyone that he wasn't the professor but a student, just like them (but different).
Anywho, more later. Physics homework to do.
- Physics with lab
- Animal Biology with lab
- Molecular and Cellular Biology with lab
- Organic Chemistry with lab
It's quite strange to have the campus flooded with women. By "strange," I mean that I'm willing to allow my single male friends to carry my books for me for a small fee of $50 a day.
One guy in the program showed up to his class just before it started. When he walked into the lecture hall, the room quickly fell silent. When he took a seat in the front row, he could hear everyone asking why the professor was sitting. He had to inform everyone that he wasn't the professor but a student, just like them (but different).
Anywho, more later. Physics homework to do.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Revelations
Yesterday was a very, very laid back day. I woke early, walked downtown to Corita's Copper Kettle, and ate another fritter with everything on it. Then, I walked back home. Along the way, I stopped at Smith's Cove beach to sit, watch the surf, and write a little bit. I finished the day by hanging out with my sister and watching the first six episodes of "Band of Brothers." Quite a day, let me tell you. Honestly, I was a little too sunburned to get back out in the sun. Also, it was just too damned hot. Mostly, though, my sis needed an easy day to recover from her wild karaoke night. For the record, she doesn't sing as much as she yelps loudly into the microphone while dancing suggestively. Proud moments for a brother. It did, however, get us free drinks for most of the night. I'm okay with that.
Today, however, was a different story. I woke early, came downstairs and read for a bit. (Just started A Confederacy of Dunces, it's freaking hysterical; I'm talking laugh out loud funny.) She slept in for a bit. We took her car to the shop for repair, grabbed some lunch, and headed back to the apartment. We decided to head out to one of her favorite beaches for some sun and snorkeling. It's called cemetery Beach, a fantastic public beach that's mostly off-the-radar for tourists.
We phoned for a taxi and grabbed our gear to head out. Wagers on who drove the taxi? None other than Elvis from the other night. Seems that driving a cab is his occupation on the island. Honestly, he's a little freaky up close. The other night, I suppose the dim lighting and the beers made me and my sis consider that his hair was real. Up close and personal, however, it was one of the worst wigs I've seen. Honestly, he had the same hair as Mowgli from The Jungle Book. So, he's dressed in jeans, some flashy shirt, silver Elvis shades, and a bandana around this awful, awful wig. He looked like a Warhol version of Geronimo.
I actually considered that Elvis' Mowgli hair was real.
Here's the best thing though: he had a bitchin' horn on this old beat up van that is his taxi. Any time we passed an attractive woman on the street, he'd hit the horn and it would actually cat call and then growl. Fan-stinking-tastic. Seriously, can you imagine walking and thinking, "Hold on a minute, did Geronimelvis' van just whistle at me?" Classic. I'm thinking of getting one for my car back home.
Anywho, just prior to dropping us off. Elvis turns around and warns us to be careful because a 12-foot hammerhead shark has been sited off-shore in the area this week. We silently got out of the van, grabbed our gear, and looked at each other as he drove off.
We sunned for a bit and then ventured into the water. It was so damned murky that we called it quits. All I could hear was Brody yelling at people to get out of the water. I obliged. After a while though, it cleared up and we ventured out into the sea. We came upon a good-sized sea turtle and followed it for a little while. Then, fish schooled around my sister, who promptly freaked out. I haughtily laughed until some big damned fish nipped at my hand and I inked the water.
We went in and headed to the Sunset House for a beer. We watched the sun drop off the horizon and sipped a cold beer or two. As the sun was setting, REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" was playing. Fitting for the last sunset of the trip.
Today, however, was a different story. I woke early, came downstairs and read for a bit. (Just started A Confederacy of Dunces, it's freaking hysterical; I'm talking laugh out loud funny.) She slept in for a bit. We took her car to the shop for repair, grabbed some lunch, and headed back to the apartment. We decided to head out to one of her favorite beaches for some sun and snorkeling. It's called cemetery Beach, a fantastic public beach that's mostly off-the-radar for tourists.
We phoned for a taxi and grabbed our gear to head out. Wagers on who drove the taxi? None other than Elvis from the other night. Seems that driving a cab is his occupation on the island. Honestly, he's a little freaky up close. The other night, I suppose the dim lighting and the beers made me and my sis consider that his hair was real. Up close and personal, however, it was one of the worst wigs I've seen. Honestly, he had the same hair as Mowgli from The Jungle Book. So, he's dressed in jeans, some flashy shirt, silver Elvis shades, and a bandana around this awful, awful wig. He looked like a Warhol version of Geronimo.
I actually considered that Elvis' Mowgli hair was real.Here's the best thing though: he had a bitchin' horn on this old beat up van that is his taxi. Any time we passed an attractive woman on the street, he'd hit the horn and it would actually cat call and then growl. Fan-stinking-tastic. Seriously, can you imagine walking and thinking, "Hold on a minute, did Geronimelvis' van just whistle at me?" Classic. I'm thinking of getting one for my car back home.
Anywho, just prior to dropping us off. Elvis turns around and warns us to be careful because a 12-foot hammerhead shark has been sited off-shore in the area this week. We silently got out of the van, grabbed our gear, and looked at each other as he drove off.
We sunned for a bit and then ventured into the water. It was so damned murky that we called it quits. All I could hear was Brody yelling at people to get out of the water. I obliged. After a while though, it cleared up and we ventured out into the sea. We came upon a good-sized sea turtle and followed it for a little while. Then, fish schooled around my sister, who promptly freaked out. I haughtily laughed until some big damned fish nipped at my hand and I inked the water.
We went in and headed to the Sunset House for a beer. We watched the sun drop off the horizon and sipped a cold beer or two. As the sun was setting, REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" was playing. Fitting for the last sunset of the trip.
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