Congratulations

In a burst of enthused productivity, I called in a dripping faucet that has been plaguing me for the past year and 13 days.

I wouldn't typically write about this, but when you work so hard at procrastination, most victories tend to amplify themselves and lend one a false sense of entitlement.

So... you're welcome.

I was under the impression this occasion called for cake

One year ago on this exact day, I started this job.

In the past year, I have:

-received tongue cancer in the mail (for a gift)

-purchased leukemia

-developed a line of cancer cells resistant to chemotherapy*

-sorted and catalogued a collection of approx. 410 tumors and tissue samples

-made animated cartoons about zinc and cell death (they're real nail-biters)

And a lot of other stuff that doesn't translate well to interesting blog lists. Trust me.

*sorry

Engagement Photo

Asking for anything more would be unreasonable

So no one else makes the mistaken assumptions I do

I give you a small dose of FACT OR FICTION.

Twirling your hair is the same thing as picking a wedding date.
Myth. Of course there is great satisfaction in both making a major decision and in twirling hair. In fact, the latter might be necessary (for some) to accomplish the former. However, apparently no amount of hand-to-hair contact will nail down the ever-elusive wedding date.

Kicking the tire of your refusing-to-start car will encourage it to reevaluate its behavior and start.
Myth. Surprisingly, even the most dedicated and anger-driven of kicks will have little effect on the car’s resolve to withhold its spark necessary for starting. This is a tricky one, as it is easy to convince oneself that the dramatic act of violence will at very least provide a victimless outlet for one’s anger. In actuality, the scene one imagines and the scene that plays out differ greatly, and the outburst is likely to end in whimpering, limping and embarrassment, with the anticipated slow motion, cinematic martial arts quality show of frustration, THUD, and shuddering car being fully replaced with an inaudible bump, show of lack of coordination and a foot (re)injury. (See also: making fool of self in public, including a bystanding Jeremy who sacrificed precious weekend hours to work on said car.)

Bringing three bites worth of Pei Wei leftovers will make for a delicious lunch.
Extreme myth. Failure to recognize this as a myth will only end in serious consideration of using a Sick Day to leave and go to Pei Wei for a full meal.

Imagining that the reward for getting out of bed and driving to work will be a soft bed waiting for you upon your arrival.
Cruel myth. Relying too heavily or too often on this delusion results in mild disorientation concerning tasks at hand and (more likely) mild upset. Causes one only to think of soft beds more frequently than average, which (for this researcher) is statistically immeasurable.

Watching Dexter and/or various ghosty movies on Netflix with Jeremy and contemplating neat snacks is the same as selecting/applying for grad schools
(Research still in progress; hopes high)

This better be real

I do realize that I probably post too much about the weather. But I have been waiting for a day like this for weeks. Maybe months.

So I got up this morning, got ready, was headed out the door to make the trek to Jeremy's for coffee and lunch item theft (it's come to my attention that I'm a bad grocery shopper, which is another, equally-as-interesting story, I assure you). And I opened my front door and saw the clouds and it was.... more exciting than 49 cats on a houseboat, to put it in the words of my brother.

So I drove to work suspiciously, afraid that the clouds would go away. That's what Oklahoma does to clouds. And I checked weather.com and this better be real.

Nine hours in a lab sounds extraordinarily unreasonable.

Corbin

If you haven't seen one of his organ performances... you're missing out. To say he's talented or to say he has strong stage presence would both be gross understatements.

Photo stolen from Facebook. My camera was giving me problems and the best that I took are silverish blueish blurs.

In case you're curious.

Today I brought 4 Twizzlers and chocolate milk for lunch. I guess it’s time to visit the grocery.

I survived My First Earthquake. Yes, I am refraining from writing a full paragraph about it.

Oklahoma is in a time warp. I think workweeks are getting longer but the clocks continually report that only 40 hours pass. Huh.

Another weekend at the Parental Resort was filled with a very good yoga during which I was sat upon by the instructor, a motorcycle ride that really made me miss motorcycle rides, and many other enjoyable enjoyables. Special thanks to all involved parties.

I keep thinking that I would do better science at work if instead of an office chair, I was given a weirdly shaped camping chair which I could supplement with a decorative (soft) pillow and a woven throw, or something. This is my way of saying I miss the desk chair I had in college for a while, which was surprisingly very comfortable and effective, until I junkily stepped through it and ripped it to pieces. It was also good for napping.

I just discovered a new recipe on Joy the Baker to try, but if anyone wants to (magically, I guess) deliver them to me post haste, I would not complain. You will find me at work, twirling my hair, doing science in my dull office chair.

When you're tired of looking at the last post, send BULLETS

As enthralling as that animation was, I was tired of looking at it every time I saw this site. Therefore, I drew up a challenge for myself: think up a new post. I failed. Then I thought I could at least manage the bullet point thing. So here are five bullet points. Five was my goal.

1. Every time an Oklahoman meteorologist or reporter or ANYONE pronounces it cue-lurr (or queue-lurr) instead of cooler, it angers the climate and adds a degree to the daily high and takes fall away. That is climate change. Although I guess that would make them happy, because when we shamelessly hit the 90s earlier this week, they called it nice. GROSS.
2. Jeremy recently sustained a football-related injury that left him with a temporary lisp and extreme pain during talking/smiling/laughing/using his face in any way. The sad (and mildly startling) part of this was when we were having a FamilyGuyAthon + ice cream to help him feel better, and I kept hearing the depressing, withered mumbling that was his crippled laughter.
3. I just finished a book (given to me by mine roommate of old) that was probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen, ever. As usual with me, I read it about ten years after it was big news. Not really. But it makes me feel like I’m just now saying GUYS. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THIS THING CALLED HARRY POTTER? (It wasn’t Harry Potter)
4. For my birthday, I want a skyful of gray clouds. Please.
5. It's Friday night and I really can't think of a fifth thing, besides to say that it's been a long week, and kind of busy, but mostly just long. And now I'll probably make some night coffee and have a good sit.

Enlightenment

This just answered a question I've had on the back burner for almost 20 years. (source)

-No longer baffled by sewing machines, but currently mesmerized by the animation

OH GOOD, I was afraid it was done being a global sauna: a sort of book review

Actually the weather has nothing to do with this book. I just wanted to emphasize my need for speed when it comes to fall getting here. One mildly cloudy day every four weeks is not enough. I am poised and ready to do a rain dance. Or… cold front dance. Whatever it takes.

Anyway. Yoga.

In yoga, or in the class I attend when I can, you hold a pose for a couple minutes or so, then you either return to regular standing or sevasana for a few seconds. And when my body is contorted in these difficult, precariously balanced positions (for me, anyway) and my muscles are wanting to shake and my heart is racing and I am actually doing yoga, those two seconds between switching sides or standing up or, at glorious best, sevasana, cannot possibly last long enough. The blood rushes back into its proper places and I lovingly drink in those two seconds. And by lovingly, I mean if time were a material thing, I’d put a white-knuckled death grip on those seconds and when they’re up, I’d claw the thin air where they were and fall to my knees in a physical manifestation of despair.

Actually it’s not usually that dramatic. Usually, there’s a second or two between positions, and your muscles are like “No, thanks,” but you’re in the state of mind that makes you carry on regardless, and your muscles are then like, “Oh, great. Thanks for the consideration. Have fun trying to walk normally for a few days.”

All of this to say: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was kind of like yoga.

There’s a motorcycle trip narrative thrown in between pages and pages of philosophy and discussion of the author’s arrival at his own brand of metaphysics. And the reading of the thinky stuff was kind of heavy. I mean, I’m reading it during lunch in the middle of the workday, when I’m used to reading mindless/entertaining literature, and all of the sudden I’m progressing at a crawl because I have to work to maintain the necessary mental state to follow the author, and even then I have to keep stopping to mentally sort out his discussion of reality and reason.

But then he’d get back to the story part, and I’d eat that stuff up and read attentively and revel in the description of what they ate for dinner and what the mountains looked like and how, exactly, to change the oil on a motorcycle. But then he moves on and gets back to perception of reality, or something, full force, and mentally I'm all, “Wait! Not yet! What color were their sleeping bags? WHAT COLOR?!”

But as in yoga, stalling would hurt the flow of things and though the break was barely existent, it was legitimate, and you keep wading through the remainder of the book (or yoga class) because the benefits are worth it. I think.

I realize by saying all of this, I am compromising both my intellectual and physical capability statuses. I am likely the only student at yoga who clings to the two-second breaks and relies on a mental state to carry herself through the positions, as they are probably second nature to everyone else (like certain people named My Mom, for example, who can relax watching TV in these poses). Likewise, I’m sure I'm sounding really intellectually challenged because this book was probably child’s play to anyone else who’s read it, nothing more than mere schoolyard prattle. And I know a lot of people who’ve read it, and in way less time than it took me. So. Oh well (In my defense, I did stop frequently to think or take notes. I’m also not revealing how long it took me to read).

In my own (potentially challenged) opinion, though, it was comparable to yoga. And I like yoga. And it’s not like it was the most challenging or profound thing I’ve ever read, by any stretch. But it incited more rabbit trails of thought and demanded more mental sorting than anything else I’ve read lately. And the author’s metaphysics of Quality is interesting, to say the least, and I found myself respecting or liking a lot of what he had to say. I kind of want to read the accompanying book, Lila, which outlines the philosophy itself rather than the arrival at said philosophy. I also kind of want to go back to reading jollily entertaining literature that doesn’t take (CENSORED) weeks to finish.

So. In conclusion: not as cool as yoga, but kind of comparable and still worthy.

Is that how you write a book review? I don’t even know. And sorry for saying the word “poised” earlier.

"The past exists only in our memories, the future only in our plans. The present is our only reality. The tree that you are aware of intellectually, because of that small time lag [between vision and perception], is always in the past and therefore is always unreal. Any intellectually conceived object is always in the past and therefore unreal. Reality is always the moment of vision before the intellectualization takes place. There is no other reality. This preintellectual reality is what Phaedrus felt he had properly identified as Quality. Since all intellectually identifiable things must emerge from this preintellectual reality, Quality is the parent, the source of all subjects and objects." (Zen, Robert Pirsig)

Think of the melted face guy at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark

I write this in memory of the innumerable brain cells that were lost this morning when I opened the incubator, stuck my head in and was physically assaulted by a wave of incubated formaldehyde.
Afterwards, when I was done clawing at my face and writhing around in agony and could see properly, I went to check my email and found one waiting patiently, sent last night, from my boss. It said, more or less: I hope you know how dangerous it could be to open the incubator after formaldehyde has been sitting in there overnight. Maybe wear a mask and be careful.
My reply: No harm done! Liejrlkse jiej!?! Makin science now, face on fire. –Chnicken spotpie!
The dumbest part of this whole thing is that I kind of want to open it again to see if it was really that bad or if my eyes, nose and throat were just being pansy. I mean, I won’t, obviously.

Disclaimer: I didn’t send the reply. My boss came into the lab to see if I had heeded his warning and apparently my bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face did all the answering. Additionally, the clawing and writhing is what I assume happened. I don't really remember what I did and there was no audience to corroborate. I mainly just remember running away with my face melting.

This is just my long-winded way of saying I'm tired

Let my still-packed bags from when I went home three weeks ago be your illustration for what is up, currently. Or I guess, what is not up (order).

I was definitely going to write about something, but clearly that’s not an option at this point. I’m kind of losing steam. I feel like I’ve been going and going for a month solid, which I know is stupid to say since that month has included a week away from work on vacation and a party in my (and Jeremy’s) honor. But to get to vacation and parties and parental resorts requires a lot of work and running around and hectic and torturous five hour rides in cars with no air. So by now I am just kind of stumbling around trying to sort out the extraordinary disaster that is my apartment.

(I feel like even mildly complaining about this is jinxing myself and warranting knowing, just-you-wait chuckles from real adults. Don’t worry, hypothetical knowing chucklers! I’m aware of the level of ridiculous displayed in my withering complaints. I'm just tired.) (And glad for Corbin/Arrested Development distractions)

ALSO- it was 104 today. In the shade. That's... gross. STOP IT.

That's all! Back to "cleaning!*"

*Loosely translated: picking good cleaning music then surfing the Internets lazily for wedding brainstorming while keeping an eye on Star Trek. Oh well.

We spent the drive home going mad in the heat and dancing in the seats

This is the first day in over a week that I’ve not been served a sit-down breakfast or been outside for the majority of the day. Instead, I’m expected to work? LAME.
I spent the past week visiting the following places:

• The parental resort, where I go to yoga in the mornings and have* a luxury black car to drive, instead of my own, and where there is wireless internet and my favorite bookstore within reach. All of this and more, located in a city I much prefer to the one I’m currently in.
• The Katy Trail, where thunderstorms sneak up and cause for long snack/water breaks in Clifton City, and where hotels are more awesome and bike gloves are necessary. Also involved: trains, bikes and small towns.
• The Magical Forest around Jeremy’s grandparents’ house. This included such amenities as a fake Jeep (a Mule, as it were, which is like a glorified ATV), bows and arrows, fishing, hiking and delicious foods. GALORE.

Anyway.
I made it to lunchtime today at work before checking back out, mentally. I think the lack of intention behind said checking out should be perfectly acceptable grounds for leaving early.

*I enjoy commandeering my mom’s car, which is by no means a Mom Car, and is quite awesome to drive

Registry

Hello.

Jeremy and I have been casually mentioning here and there some things that might be nice to have, since we're going to have a wedding and having a wedding means having the same residence eventually and sharing stuff. I don't mean to be greedy or materialistic by saying this, but that's what it is. Sorry! Anyway! There are some things I know I would certainly like to have and here is a list.

1. The world's most giant/awesome hammock

2. Real Pac Man (scary, huh?)

3. (self explanatory)

4. A wall mural? Is that 70s? 80s? I enjoy it.

5. THIS CAMERA. Sorry if it seems... morbid, or something.

Layer Cake

It is, of course, a recipe found here, but don't compare her photographs to mine. Get over the obvious green icing/booger comparisons, and it’s quite all right, I think.

P.S. The best part of an avocado is the seed.

Garden Update?

I forgot to mention! We ate the first produce from our garden, and I didn't even take a picture of it. Actually I don't even remember what we used it in. I know it also included peppers. And I do remember it being awesome.
And here is the "garden," and here is Jeremy, last Friday, on the phone. I am pretty sure he was telling someone about how he proposed the previous night.

Mostly Unrelated Bullet Points

• FUN FACT: It’s been almost two months since last we spoke, blog style. Whoops.
• Not that nothing noteworthy has happened. I ran a half marathon. I've had some good friends-in-town occasions. Lost ended. I was a wedding photographer. I went up to Kansas and had a grand old day, involving yoga and cigar boxes and Half Price Books and roommates with their young and Rachelles and being prematurely shuffled out of coffee places.
• Yes, I am on my blog at work. At my job (have I mentioned this before?) there comes a time when there really isn’t anything for me to do. I mean, I’ve set up my experiment(s) and in the incubation time I really have nothing to work on. I've already done the dishes and taken out the trash, biohazardly, and I'm left to my own devices, really, while the membrane sits in its primary antibody and the science/magic happens. So I've nothing to do but try to justify my inactivity online.
• In this downtime, I've been adding to my near impossible TO READ list. If you have a good book recommendation, please, please tell me. I like adding to this list.
• I am never really comfortable using the word gotten. It seems incorrect.

Things I Sort Of Wish Were Real (A very incomplete and conditional list)

1. Teleportation (or some form of apparation). Not for most travel purposes, obviously.

2. The MacView, which is detailed here. A Polish guy apparently did it for a design project before the iPad was revealed. I'm sorry for using the word iPad.

3. Knowledge transfer (or mind melding, but considering the fact that two things on this list are from Star Trek already, I think it's best that you pretend I don't know what it's called)

4. A command/Z function (aka edit/undo) for real life scenarios. Actually, maybe a complete Photoshop toolbar for real life scenarios. For use only with discretion, of course.

5. A One-Time-Only Reversible Zombie Outbreak, during which one could test the skills one has contemplated over the past few years (P.S. HOW am I not remembering toga zombie from Night of the Living Dead? It seems like something I would have at least noted.)

Gross

I am doing the thing where I blog while I wait for my lunch to microwave at work again... Only today I am so hungry that This is Why You're Fat is giving me ideas that I'm deeming actually edible, rather than torturously awful. I don't look at that site very often, and when I do I'm appropriately disgusted by most things on it (prime example). But today, something like The Smortuary seems kind of delicious.

(One thing I may never understand is the idea that bacon can be a dessert component. Of course that site showcases bacon in its most heinous forms, but even very reputable sources have been known to put bacon bits in things like cookies. Maybe it's really awesome? Maybe I'm preventing myself from a culinary land mine of glory. I'll never know.)

Anyway. This weekend was so springful and I took a few pictures of our GROW SOME THINGS initiative. For example, meet this fine family of jalapenos and chives:

You can tilt your head if you'd like to notice Jeremy telling me to be helpful and take this basil plant.

And here I am, planting and being as nonphotogenic as I can manage.

So there is a little glimpse of our garden (if you can use that word for grow boxes on an apartment balcony). This weekend also served up a good, strong sunburn and of course, Easter, Episcopal style. And zombies. There is no good spring weekend without a zombie film viewance.

Okay. I just scrolled through some more pages and This is Why You're fat has lost its hold on me. I think if they included pictures of people consuming these things, that website could easily become a component of my Room 101 (THERE, while I'm feeling linky).

Swifty

This is just a quick update, with (of course) no news of real substance.

• I ran ten miles Saturday. I'd like to treat this fact with casual indifference, to make it sound like it was no big deal to me. But I'm not going to lie: it was awesome and I'm both proud and surprised.
• The plants in our garden have sprouted. There are lots of baby herbs and some little pepper sprouts. I hope things continue to go well, regardless of rogue, off-season snow storms.
• Because there are five full work days ahead of me, filled with hastily-made lunches and thrown together dinners, I'm going to (fatly) reminisce about Saturday's dinner. We've been attempting deep dish pizzas lately, using cake pans and protein crumbles (which sound... gross). This is just before covering the whole thing in cheese. It was no Chicagan deep dish... But right now, as my boring work day lunch microwaves, even this terrible quality picture of it is enough to make me weep.
  Not really. But it was pretty good. Especially after that run (I'll keep bringing it up until I'm no longer astounded that I actually did it).

• I really don't know why I keep posting food pictures on here. I've no talent, really, in the kitchen, besides the basic obedience of following recipes and the ability to learn (wing it) from experience. And rarely am I inspired enough to actually pull out a REAL camera to document anything. And I'm certainly no food blogger/photographer like this'n or even this part-time one.
  Yeah, I literally have no reason to be posing food pictures. I can't even think of a theory. Maybe I'm just busy enough with working that I think even my meals are enough of a diversion to be worthy of documentation.
• Well, don't worry. And I say this mainly to myself, I guess. This will be the last phone/computer camera taken photo of a meal I've made, unless I have a good reason.
• I ran ten miles.

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

(I hope you know from exactly where the title comes.)

Yesterday wasn’t necessarily a terrible day, and I hate to join the masses and get all complainy about Mondays. But yesterday was Monday X-TREME. So extreme that the e of extreme just gets in the way, rendered useless in the expression of how off the charts Mondayful it was.

I’ll try not to go into exhaustive detail, but the contributing factors were: 9000 things to get done at work, staying very late at work despite my best efforts, forgetting that March 22 was staff evaluation day, the heat in the lab so high I might have suffered heat stroke, getting bad results on a straightforward experiment, the absolute necessity to do a minimum of three loads of laundry, no time to fix dinner, headache edging on the definition of migraine, and the inconvenience of only 24 hours in the day. Sorry, sorry for being self-centeredly complainful. Not my intent, I promise. I did manage to get a 4.5 mile run in after work, which helped. It also jammed my Monday night schedule pretty tight though.

ANYWAY. I don’t want this post to become a shrine to one magical event that turned around my whole outlook on the day and caused the heavens to open up and dolphins to jump through glittery hoops with laughter in the air. I’m still just as disgruntled about the 40+ hour workweek as the next worker.

But I should probably draw your attention to Exhibit A (ignore the fact that it's sitting on a chair in a messy apartment):

Knowing of my MONDAY XTREME, Jeremy quietly knocked on my door at the beginning of Skype Homers, came in and laid this fresh, hot Middle Eastern feast before me, then quickly bowed out (please note the homemade hummus and fresh falafel).

BOOYAH, Monday. I have a Jeremy, and I had a good conversation with Rachelle, and I slept with vengeance (medicated, yes, but still). How I wound up with such rare people in my life, I will never know.

(Sidenote: I find it mildly obnoxious that the off-brand meal-replacement nutrition shake prefers to have WEIGHT LOSS SHAKE proudly plastered on its label in such a large font. There’s nothing I want my coworkers to know more than where I sadly shop AND that I’m drinking a weight loss shake. Maybe it’s not for weight loss. Maybe I just didn’t have time to make lunch (which is true) and that I shop thriftily (which I try to make true). Thanks again for the classiness, Wal Mart.)

FINALLY

Dave Eggers is one of my favorite authors. And I didn’t know that he put out a new book, after What is the What? So when I was innocently browsing Amazon, I was beside myself to discover this:

And I ran to get it as quickly as possible and read it within a few days and I am quite pleased. It’s the true account, based on personal interviews, of a man who stayed in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, after which he traveled around town in his canoe to check on and aid anyone in distress.

I don’t have anything very valuable to say about this book, honestly. This isn’t a review or anything otherwise reflective about the book. I just wanted to say… Eggers is a good writer and such a good story teller. Every once in while I find a book that is so well written, with a story so perfectly told, that there is little else I want to do but consume the book entirely. And I’m not saying this is the only good book or good writing I’ve come across recently. I’ve actually had a very solid lineup lately of writers I love and have come to love (see the sidebar: Tolkien and Krakauer, to name a couple). But it was so nice to come across the surprise of a new Dave Eggers book, and to find it easily at the library (it’s usually pretty easy to find books at the library here, unless you’re looking for romantic Christian fiction or useful research materials, a hot, rarely available item and nonexistent resource, respectively).

And of course… Sadly… All of this makes me more and more disappointed that most jobs in the "real world" don’t have Spring Breaks, during which I could devote my time exclusively to appreciating the art of the written word and experimenting with recipes I’ve found lately and dusting off my camera and my dear bike, neither of which have been outdoors in far too long.

Sidenote: Jeremy and I have decided to combine our efforts and attempt an apartment garden. He used to grow tomatoes there and maybe something else? But he's talked about expanding, and he’s allowing me to use his balcony for some herbs and peppers, which he will add to with plants of his own. Small scale? Yes, very. But this is another thing I’d be spending my spring break on, if I had one.

I am thankful for my job, though, despite its stinginess with days off. It was hard-won and I would hate to find myself taking it for granted.

21 Strawberries

So you may remember this fiasco from last year...

Well March 6 rolled around again and, yes, I decided to feed my brother again for his birthday. At least I didn't drop it this time, though this picture hides its many imperfections.

Maybe later I'll show you them. I did take pictures, though not for the sake of photography, just for the sake of reporting.

Apologies

I'm sorry, but the following contains a word that I kind of despise. Maybe nobody else minds it, which is fine and totally acceptable, but regardless I'll apologize, if even just to myself.

Anyway.

Do you ever have totally random* memories surface for no apparent reason? You'll just be minding your own business, walking into work, disinterestedly regarding some construction or traffic, and then all of the sudden you find yourself thinking, on some level, about something very specific and utterly random?

Dave Eggers gave this really relatable, for lack of better word, description of his mind in one of his books... I can't remember which but I'd guess You Shall Know Our Velocity! was it. He (the speaker in the book) said he thought of the inside of his mind as an office of sorts with several workers that bring up files (memories) and work tirelessly to keep things running and organized. My view of my own mind has always been something similar, though not identical, to that. And in this case, it would be like business is going along as usual (the correct files are where they need to be; relevant ones on my desk, others accessible if necessary, etc), but then a completely unexpected file shows up on the desk and suddenly you're thinking of carnival night in elementary school.

That was today's, anyway. Yesterday I was suddenly, inexplicably thinking of the time a friend and I went out one evening in Nazareth (the Nazareth), and after exploring were totally lost. Long story short (it's a story for the books, I think) we wound up back at our hostel, but only after much Hebrew/English confusion and with only the help of some very gracious taxi drivers.

Anyway. This is all totally irrelevant. It's Friday night and I have some sleep on which to immediately catch up. I just thought I'd write myself to sleep. In a public setting. Sorry. This led nowhere. I'm in the middle of two books I don't particularly like so this seemed like a better idea.

*This is the word I hate. Its overuse has made me so hesitant to want to find place for it in speech or writing or anywhere.

Heme Oxygenase I

Alternatively Titled: How, Exactly, I Spend Most of my Time

In case you were wondering, which I don't know if you were because... no one has ever specifically asked... I thought I'd provide you with a general summary of what I do. Feel free to disinterestedly skim. I got a little wordy.

SIDENOTE: While the mileage between work and home is pretty low, the trip involves three separate highways and all of the associated interchanges thereof. So thanks to rush hour and construction, etc, on average I spend about 45 minutes sitting in traffic every day. At least it adds up to a lot of NPR listening. While I still don't understand politics fully or the economy very well at all, I can toss around the jargon like a pro.

Okay, so I work in a scientific research laboratory. Our specific lab has one primary investigator (PhD), one post-doc fellow (PhD), one associate researcher (MS), the new guy (MD), the experienced lab tech (who has worked here longer than anyone), and me (BS). Please note the education/experience gap and infer as much intimidation as you can.

Add to that the challenge of learning extremely delicate lab procedures and techniques from scratch, the pressure of maintaining healthy cells for various experiments, and the looming requirement to produce meaningful results from those experiments, and you have quite a confidence killer. It's challenging and exciting, in a way, and cool. And I'm happy to have a job with a steep learning curve; it's extremely educational. But I still approach almost everything I do with nervous posture and extreme insecurity. Even after nearly three months of working here, the only thing I do at work with absolute confidence is go to the bathroom. And I'm sure it shows, too, but I'm usually just so relieved to have something to do that I've totally mastered. So all day long I'm hunched and lacking any show of confidence, careful and slow, so slow, and double-checking and quad-checking. And then all of the sudden, with unadulterated visible confidence, my back straightens, my jaw sets, and I briskly walk to the bathroom, shameless and determined. It's ridiculous, I know. But totally necessary. It gives me a break from the ice I'm otherwise walking on all day.

So anyway. I do little experiments on cancer cells. I add drugs to them and add DNA to them to make them respond differently to said drugs. I'm currently focusing on heme oxygenase 1, and if you ask me to explain, I would either answer very evasively with complicated vocabulary to make it sound like I knew all about it, OR the answer would take me a very long time because I'd have to sort through it for myself.

I also have my own flasks and dishes of cancer cells to maintain, which takes a surprising amount of effort. They're like very fragile pets that need to be tended to and fed every day. And tumor cells are lame pets.
(Another sidenote: I was lamenting to Jeremy after a particularly disasterous day in the lab that all of my cells had died. He asked "Cancer cells?" "Yeah." "Isn't that the point? Jori... You killed cancer." I then had to explain the irony and necessity of keeping the tumor cells healthy in order to kill them scientifically. Stressful.)

Oh, and my boss recently found out that part of my degree is in art, so I've been working on a lot of illustrations and animations for his various presentations and lectures. I immensely enjoyed doing that until, earlier yesterday upon completion of an illustration, I sadly realized it looked like someone made it in Microsoft Paint and that probably no one would appreciate its perfect alignment and carefully selected color pallet, and that it had little scientific value and almost no artistic value at all. I'm currently working on a short animation of apoptosis (which is cell suicide, basically). I'll show it to you sometime.

Right then, that's it. I know it was self-involved and long. But at least now you have some idea of what I do. Sort of.

ICEPOCALYPSE 2010: LIVE FROM THE TRENCHES

The reports you probably heard on the national news were only a laughable fraction of the catastrophic conditions before my eyes as I fought the wind to open my front door this morning. I mean, the catastrophic conditions that looked likely and based on forecasts were still a couple hours away. BUT STILL. The sky a threatening gray, the streets dry but begging to be encased, nay-- entombed in ice, and the winds still low and mild but with foreboding arctic torture on their [potential] agenda, I pushed forward, through the probably-soon-to-be-dangerous streets with tunnel vision; the cells in the incubator needed me. They would literally die without me and their poor, microscopic lives were the key to determining whether docosahexaeonic acid's up-regulation of HO-1 was inhibited in the PPAR alpha or gamma pathway in tumor cells. Not to mention the lab dishes. WHO WOULD WASH THE BEAKERS AND FLASKS IF NOT ME, AND IF NOT TODAY?
Thankfully, those in charge of my workplace must have known of this, my consuming suspense at determining the answer now, this morning, and no later. And knowing of it, they stood firm against the grain. The entire city shut down, bracing for the meteorological beating of lifetime. But not them. Thanks to them, oh thank you, thank you... Thanks to them... I am one of the very few people in this city not currently enjoying a snow day.
One of the downsides of no longer being a student.

I kind of don't like it, usually, when people write up dramatic blog posts... But I really wanted to use the word icepocalypse because that is exactly how this city is treating it. We'll see if the conditions deliver to the city's fear-laden expectations... Meanwhile, I'll be warm at home, because they did finally decide to let us go.