yog-ow

Last night I made it to a yoga class, in an attempt to alleviate my recent bouts of unexpainable exhaustion.  Yoga is an interesting art form.  It's spiritual and physical; it doesn't require significant power but offers strength, flexibility and relaxation.  And I have yet to find anything that helps with back pain as much as yoga - it's truly amazing.  Sounds like a good deal, right?  Sign me up!

One issue I have with yoga classes is that I cannot concentrate when it's time for the meditation and relaxation part.  Maybe I have ADD, but I can't zone out when they tell you to listen to your heart, breath, etc.   I can't relax.  A million things always run through my head, and then I become aware of the fact that I am unable to zone out and then I think about that.  It's very similar to the insomnia cycle, when you realize you can't fall asleep and then you think about not being able to fall asleep. 

Perhaps it's me, but I find that some yoga instructors act a bit too new-age lalalala transcendental.   It seems slightly overdone; faux-deepness.  Let's all relax and thank the earth for our every breath, for birds and trees.   Now pay me $20 and go back to consulting/banking/partying/being American.

At home, I sometimes watch yoga shows on the Indian TV Channels my parents get (yay Zee-TV and Sony Entertainment Television!)  It's so different.  First of all, the yogis are usually older men.  And they are truly amazing; they exude such a mastery of the art and command so much respect.  Going to a class taught by some very bubbly 20-year-old after that loses a little something.  Don't get me wrong; I respect their dedication to the practice of yoga and I am grateful for the fact that they are the reason I can even take a class.  But still, there is always something a bit off.  When they do the vedic chants in Sanskrit, it's like fingernails across a chalkboard.  And Namaste is pronounced NAM-aste not nam-ASTE.

Back to yesterday.  The class was described as "gentle", which sounded very appealing since anything that requires too much energy is a stretch for me.   The class started off nicely until we started getting into some freaky-deaky poses.  FYI, for those of you have never done yoga, some of the poses are oddly sexual.  Maybe not so odd, with the whole Kama Sutra and all.  But still, no position in which you'd find yourself on any given Wednesday.

So one pose involved us using folding chairs.  Somehow or another, we ended up with our feet all the way up on the chair and our butts supported up on some blankets, and foam yoga blocks propping up our backs.  I don't know.  I improvised the best I could.  It felt nice but hurt at the same time.  But it was stretching my back, which is always a good thing.

Class ended, and I felt proud of myself for doing something remotely physically active.  Things were a-OK until this morning, when I woke up with a big bruise across my behind and noticeable pain when I tried to sit down.  Hmph.  That's the problem with yoga.  You have no idea what the heck you are doing to your body until some delayed physical response kicks in.  Sometimes this is good - i.e, my abs are a bit sore too.  But bruises on my bum?  Funky inverted poses on folding chairs?  It was a bit too cirque-du-soleil for my taste. 

So I think I'll lay off the yoga for a while, or find a more balanced (normal?) class.  There are some classes in NY that I've attended which have been good - they move quickly and spend more time on the actual poses than the relaxation, which I like.  Sometimes it seems to me that instructors spend more time on the relaxation so that they can chill out rather than teach. 

The thing is, I'm still really exhausted.  Other things I am considering:  taking up swimming or bike riding.  Probably swimming.  Because bike riding ... as if I'm not enough of a spaz, let's add wheels to the picture.

Happy Thursday all!  It's almost Friday, which means another rendez-vous with the Chinatown Bus.  I'm giving it another chance.  Though I'm bracing myself, with the DNC finishing tonight ... who knows what the travel situation will be tomorrow.

------------------
ps:  Ellen Degeneres had a great monologue about yoga in one of her standup specials ("The Beginning" or "Here and Now" - both of which are *fantastic* - I highly recommend watching them if you haven't yet.)   She echoes my sentiments about being unable to concentrate.  She says that when it's time to meditate and get to the spiritual place, what comes into her head?  "Mama keeps whites, white like the new day ... Mama's got the magic of Clorox Bleach!"  Hilarious.  There is no such thing as having an empty head - even if you try to clear your thoughts, the randomest and stupidest thing will enter your mind.

magna charta

The good news is I found out that I passed level I of the C.F.A. exam (Chartered Financial Analyst).  Woo-hoo, I'm chartered!   The word chartered reminds me of the Magna Carta.  I know, non-sequitor.  Wow, I just realized I have no idea what the Magna Carta was about.  One day I'll end up as one of the morons that Jay Leno interviews on Jaywalking.  I didn't even get close to passing the Third Grade Test.  I remember when I was in either first or second grade, the teacher passed out a map of the US and asked us to color in New York State.  I colored in Long Island.  Yup.  I remember getting the paper back with my error corrected, and all of NY State shaded in.  Though seriously, I think I was just ahead of myself.

But yes, it was nice to find out I passed.  Mainly because if I didn't I would have been pissed off for a while.  Even though I quit my job in finance.  Even though this exam will likely have no effect on my life for the foreseeable future.  But still, cause for celebration!  I bought myself a Snickers w/ Almonds.  Very good.  Seven almonds in the morning make you smart, ain't that right desi-lok?

Though with the Diet Coke chaser for the candy bar, I'm a little jittery right now.  Can you tell?

 

good girls gone wild

On weekday mornings from 9-10 AM and weekends from 10-11 AM FX plays reruns of 90210.  Watching the show is one of the many guilty pleasures I allow myself (the others include eating as many Oreos as I want with milk, because I need to get my calcium, and french manicures because I like to feel fancy). 

So this past weekend I caught up on some old-school Beverly Hills fun. Before describing the episode, I feel it necessary to pay tribute to the cultural icon that was Beverly Hills, 90210.  The show aired in October 1990 when I was in full fledged braces and geek hair (I had a perm.  A subject for another post).  It concluded 10 years later, May 2000, when I was a junior in college.  The finale was a horrendously acted yet appropriate conclusion with the wedding of Donna and David, whose love story, though more of a B-plot, managed to ride out the entire 10 year run of the show.

The drama!  The characters!  The scandal!  Dylan is rich and does drugs.  Brandon and Brenda are so wholesome and Jim and Cindy Walsh are The Best Parents Ever!  Kelley was so sophisticated with those Warhol-esque portraits of herslf in her room.  And so misunderstood by her recovering drug addict of a mother.  There was David Silver, the sweet geek (90210's answer to Screech),   BMOC Steve Sanders (gotta love him), and good girl Donna Martin (on her Daddy's show because he ran Hollywood.  Even at 10 years old I understood that).

But the character that I want to discuss is Andrea Zuckerman.   Brainiac and reliable friend Andrea.  Editor of the school paper.  The girl who had to turn down Yale so that she could remain on the show.  The girl I de facto related to, because I had nothing in common with the other characters.  Remember when she gave herself to Brandon as his going away present and he turned her down?  That had to hurt.  And how she finally set her ego aside and agreed to share the Editor-in-Chief position with Brandon?  Andrea, you had a symphathetic friend in 10-year old Sophia.

Getting back to this weekend.  It was an episode that was taking place during their first year in college.  Andrea's RA was her literature professor.  So cute in the floppy haired academic way.  He asks Andrea out; and they end up sleeping together!  Whoa!  My hands down favorite scene from the episode is when Andrea confesses her concern to him: 
 
Andrea:  
You can't be my lover in the bedroom and my teacher in the classroom. 
Skeezy Prof:
Well I guess it's settled.
Andrea (hesistant):
It is?
Skeezy Prof:
Yes.  I guess you'll have to find another English professor!  (Both giggle and start making out)

I started to think more about the allure of the goody-two-shoes gone bad-girl.  Quite an interesting struggle.  It doesn't necessarily have to be one character within a specific show, either.  I remember the shock of finding out that Jessie Spanow (Elizabeth Berkely) was the lead in Showgirls (click the link to read about the DVD release).  The NC-17 rating was so scandalous; the rush of newly minted 18th-year-of-lifer boys to the movie theater remains quite a fond memory. 

So who finds the transformation more interesting - men or women?  Do men really like the idea of the geek turned stripper?  Or is it more the subtle empathetic fascination that normal women experience?

It's probably neither.  The Andrea story line was pretty freaking boring.  Nothing compared to Dylan cheating on Brenda or Donna Martin Graduates!

Oh, and for your procrasting pleasure, here are some quizzes that test your trivial knowlege (oops, i meant knowledge of trivia) of the show.

mind your manners

Another Monday, another exam.  I returned to Cambridge last night via the Delta Shuttle (no bus for me for a while).  I thought the place would be unbelievably crowded given that the Democratic National Convention started today, but the airport was virtually deserted.  No complaints, empty flights are necessarily better than full flights.

 

This morning started off nicely, the alarm woke me up and the radio station was playing Sean Paul.  I love Sean Paul.  I want to marry Sean da Paul.  Some of you know of my love affair with this man.  Actually, a while ago a friend of mine and I were discussing how when Sean Paul and I get married, we are going to register at Sean John and Fubu.  Yeah. But then I remembered I have a test today.  Sigh.  I arrived about 15 minutes before the exam started and did some last minute reviewing.  But then the girls sitting behind me started a  bizarre conversation.  

Girl #1:
So, I've been having some issues because of the pill.

Girl #2:
Really?  Are you on the new one that gives you four periods?

Girl #1:

Yeah, I'm having hot flashes.  I'm having one right now, it's so hot.  I hate this.  My hormones are all over the place.

Girl #2:
That sucks.  My mom is having those because of menopause (and laughs)

Girl #1:
Seriously, ugh, and my cramps.  It's so hot! (proceeds to remove sweatshirt)

Sophia's Mind:
What the hell is wrong with these people?

I mean, it's fine for these two friends to have a personal conversation.  But there were several people sitting in the same row or very close to them (like me), and neither girl attempted to lower her voice at all.  It was almost as if they raised their voices to make a bit of a scene.  A really stupid scene, in my opinion.

I am a big stickler for politeness and *appropriate* conversation.  There is a time and a place for everything.   Rudeness and inappropriate conversation or comments, even from friends, do not sit well with me.   "Please" and "Thank You" are phrases that are grossly underutilized.

Last week I was walking down a hallway and went through a set of doors.  I noticed the girl behind me had a stack of books in her hand, so I waited and held the door open for her.  She literally walked through as if it were my job to prop it open for her.  No smile or acknowledgement.  Is that a very minor, everyday experience that I am magnifying?  For sure.  But still, it is behavior like that I can characterize as my absolute primary pet peeve. 

Maybe I am a bit too Ms. Manners, but it often surprises me when people lack both common sense and social graces.   At Harvard, we had a core curriculum, which mandates a series of courses that must be completed prior to graduation.  And I am not being facetious when I say that I have often thought that a requirement of a class in Socially Acceptable Behavior would be a good idea.   Especially in pre-med courses; where are these people going to get their bedside manners if they cannot even act normal in non-critical situations? 

bad, bad bus

 
Dear Chinatown Bus,

Why do you torture me so?  I was so infatuated with you, what with your $10 Boston-NY fare and a 30 minute stopover at a rest stop McDonalds.  But then you betrayed me, telling me the 8:00 bus was the next available departure as I stood at your ticket window yesterday at 5:00 PM.  And then not having the bus show up until 10:00 PM, and with limited air conditioning at that.   I guess a relationship inevitably gets messier after the third date, but you led me on, please know that.  The least you could have done was to be honest, so as to save me 5 hours of sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for you to show up.

Also, was it intentional that you put someone I went to college with on the bus?  Not a friend, but one of those "Oh, didn't we go to college together?  What's your name?" followed by forced small talk.  And did you mandate that this person sit next to me, speaking on a cell phone for a good part of the trip as I tried to sleep, without any luck? 

Thanks for the Lite FM though, it helped a bit.  Norah Jones and a little "More than Words" never ceases to placate me.

I think we should see other people, or modes of transportation.  You'll always be a friend, just not in "that" way.

Sincerely,
Sophia

 

 

top o' the mornin

 
My oversleeping is becoming a bit worrisome - I'm finding it virtually impossible to get out of bed when I'm supposed to.   Hmm.  I think it's because I'm not taking the best care of myself right now in terms of diet and exercise ... plus I'm not drinking nearly enough water.   I firmly believe dehydration is the cause of the most lethargy.  But again, do as I say, not as I do.  Though I think I will grab my Nalgene bottle from home and bring it back with me.  Nothing to round out the jeans-and-fleece wardrobe like a good Nalgene bottle.

So I finally dragged myself out of bed and went to the bathroom to get ready.   When I walked into the bathroom, I heard some really loud voices.  I figured there might have been people doing yardwork or something in the backyard, but I could clearly hear these voices.  I leaned to the window, and then opened the shades.

I was staring smack at two guys on a ladder who were painting the house.  They were painting right outside the window of the bathroom.  You can imagine my surprise, which only escalated as I realized I was wearing just a towel.  What a morning.

After I got ready (I shut the shades and managed to take a shower), I saw one of the painters outside.  He was an older Irish gentleman with the best accent.  How can you be mad at people with thick Irish accents?  It's virtually impossible.  He told me that they needed to get into the apartment to paint later that day ... but then he spoke really fast and I couldn't understand a word he was saying.  He finally told me to go talk to Seamus, who was painting in the back.  I love that his name was Seamus (and I kept thinking about the poet Seamus Heaney - for some reason I had a mental picture of the 10,000 fliers they had posted around campus when he came to speak so many years ago). 

So they're going to paint later this afternoon.   When I'm riding the sweet sweet Chinatown bus back to my one true love, New York City.  I'm going to go get some water.  And maybe a slice of pizza.  Mmm.

pete and repeat

 
Usually I don't like to discuss things that I've previously written about, but I feel like I need to update you all on the status of Vegetable Boy (VB) from lecture.  I seriously overslept today again - why is that I can set alarms, even wake up at the time I'm supposed to wake up, and then go right back to sleep, knowing I'll be late?  And then, without any alarms, I wake up at exactly the time that will make me 20 minutes late for class.  Every morning, without fail, I wake up at 8:10 when class starts at 8:30.  It doesn't matter if I went to bed early or late the night before, I will still be late for class.

So I was late.  And sat in the back again.  Right behind my friend VB.  Guess what today's breakfast was?  Come on, guess!  I'll give you a hint:  it involves a can and a can opener.  Give up?  Tuna.  That's right.  He opened a can of tuna (is it chicken or is it fish?) and ate it raw with a spoon.  9:00 AM! 

The good news is I made a friend.  This girl was sitting next to me in class the first time I sat in the back and saw VB.  She and I gave each other that "Is he serious?" look.  Today she was sitting in front of me, adjacent to VB.  After class she got up, saw me and said "Did you see that?  Tuna??"  We introduced ourselves and decided to sit together from now on for the pure entertainment value of VB.

In other news ... well, nothing.  I'm in a bit of an uncomfortable state since I have mosquito bites covering my arms and legs.  What, you ask?  There are mosquitos in Boston?  In fact there are, but they don't drink on Sundays (haha, ok that wasn't funny, I know).   Actually for some reason I am particularly prone to bug bites, wherever I may be.  My mother's explanation is because my blood is sweet (How cute.  Though with the donuts and chocolate obsession, it might not be totally off base).  My explanation is more like Murphy's law.  If there is one mosquito in all the land, he will find me and torture me.

Yesterday in lab we ran some reaction where the product is supposed to smell like bananas.  I was all excited when our final  product actually did smell like bananas (though like banana candy, or lip gloss ... not real banana).  This is what my life has become; one day getting excited because a stock I picked did well ... the next smelling who knows what chemical with the odor of bananas from a crusty old vial used by scores of chemistry students in years past.  Interesting, where life takes you ...

pinkish

Tough exam this morning - one of those where you are rushing to finish the last question when they announce "Five minutes left!"  Oh well.  I wonder if my attitude toward this class and the exams is too lax.  I study until I feel like I get what's going on, but I'm not doing a million practice problems and memorizing every word that the Professor uttered.   But the way I figure, no matter how much I study, come exam time, the most important thing is whether you stay calm or freak out.  I wonder if I would have done better this morning if I studied more ... but honestly, I don't think I would have.  There would have been more pieces of information swimming around my head - all of which probably would have confused me even more. 
 
I'm tired.  I went to NY Friday night and caught a late showing of the movie Touch of Pink.  No it is not a movie about my blog.  It's the story of a gay Ismaili man living in London and the cultural/familial/relationship issues that he faces.   The viewing proved to be an interesting experience; I wasn't thrilled with the depiction of Ismailis, or the plot and the acting.  I went a little overboard with my criticism after the movie though, and fear I may have frightened people within a five mile radius.  Oh well.  Though I wasn't a fan, I do think it is worth seeing (but probably only if you are Ismaili or like independent/gay cinema). 
 
I really enjoy independent film, but I admit ... I love me a good superhero-robot-will ferrell adventure.  I have yet to see SpiderMan 2 (I didn't like the first one though, but I hear this movie is great), Anchorman and Dodgeball.  I want to see I,Robot too, because I have a big ol' crush on Will Smith.  I had a copy of DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince "He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper" on LP.   The good old days. 
 
Saturday went to a birthday party for a good friend of mine, which was fun.  Though where has my stamina gone?  Going out is a trip ... it's so hard to stay out late.  And all that loud music!  Oh boy, bienvenido a lameville.  And it wasn't just me this time - my party companions agreed!  I guess that doesn't say much except that we're all getting old.  Or lame.  As I told my friends, my next birthday party will consist of Taboo, Monopoly and perhaps some old school Hide and Seek.  Wear sneakers and sweats if you like. 
 
OK I'm going to backtrack and say something about the Fresh Prince album.  When I was a kid I did a dance at some function to the song "Parents Just Don't Understand".   I was pretending to rap along to it.  It was pretty sad.  But I am totally mentally transported to that place right now - loving DJ Jazzy and Swans Crossing, wearing leggings with slouch socks and rainbow bangs.  At the chorus of the song, my step was to wag my finger (which represented "do not") and then tapping my temple (which represented "understand").  Clever, huh?
 
Now that I've shared that sad piece of information, I encourage all of you to read the lyrics, and tell me they don't take you right back to 1990.  What a touching story.  Cue violin music.  A boy steals his parents Porsche and gets it impounded, then they beat him up.  They simply do not understand.
 
 
 
 
 

breakfast, anyone?

This morning I woke up 20 minutes before I needed to be in class. After making myself somewhat presentable, I made my way to the lecture hall and arrived a bit after class started. Normally I sit closer to the front (because I am a geek). But today I sat all the way in the back, in order to avoid any disturbance.

My discovery: some freaky deaky people hanging out in the back of the lecture hall.

As the Professor was speaking, I heard some weird noises and a noticed a distinct smell emanating from behind me. I turned around, and was more than surprised at what I saw. This kid was eating Ramen Noodles. With chopsticks. Slurping and all. It was 8:30 in the morning! That classified as the strangest breakfast I'd seen in quite a while. The noodles, I guess I could understand. But chopsticks too? For breakfast?

Though the Ramen Noodle guy did distract me a bit, I resumed attempting to follow the lecture. After an hour, we had a 10 minute break (it's a 2 hour class).

During the break, a guy sitting in front of me opened his backpack and pulled out a can of vegetables. I did a double take. A can of vegetables? (Veg-8 was the brand name, specifically). But it gets better. How was he going to open said can? That's right, ladies and gents, he pulled out a can opener from his backpack. And he hand-cranked that contraption until his can of vegetables opened.

Lecture continued, and Vegetable Boy whipped out a plastic fork and started eating his can of goodies. Which turned out to be peas and carrots in the yucky can water. It was like a car accident on the road - I didn't want to look but I had to.

Needless to say, I couldn't pay attention for the rest of class. Where was I? Who are these people? Have sodium laden noodles and carrots in a can replaced cereal, eggs, toast, etc (all Part of a Complete Breakfast)? Are these people really weird or am I the odd one out in this seemingly post-apocalyptic frozen packaged food filled universe?

These are the doctors of the future. Are you worried yet? I am.

too much writing

Today was my second exam. It was relatively painless, which was good. But bad in the fact that I really didn't need to stay in Cambridge to study this weekend. I could've partied like it's 1999! But alas, no. I tried to study and read a book ("In Her Shoes" by Jennifer Weiner. Another book to toss into the chick lit genre. I liked it though; slow start but got much better.)

Today in lecture I noticed the girl sitting in front of me had a pink binder, on which she had written "Organic Chemistry." Within a big heart. I wish I had a friend with me in class with whom I could share the evil pleasure of mocking the situation. I'm just imagining if I would have circled my titles on memos and presentations at work with hearts and the like. I can see it now -- "Capital Structure Summary for Company X .... XOXOXOXOXOOX, Hugs and Kisses!"

I had lab again today. Very tiring. We have to write out our lab reports during our time in lab. So we sit there scribbling pages and pages of info. Writing is overrated. I don't like writing lots of material with pens. It's tiring and time consuming. Why write when you can type? It's so much faster. Some notes here and there I understand, but writing copious amounts of information; so unnecessary. Uh-oh. Will this be a major problem if I become a doctor?

Yesterday was a religious holiday of sorts (Khushiali Mubarak to my khoja friends). I went to khane in Boston. Which was fine, but it made me homesick. Would've been nice to be home w/ friends and family. They had sherbat and chocolate cake, which was nice. (Though ... the sherbat was melted strawberry ice cream, which was a bit of a bummer. Those of you who know my addiction to the rose sherbat with crushed nuts will understand my sadness). But the cake was good.

I want to go on a picnic. This will be my next project. Picnic in Central Park. Everyone down?

metamorphosis

Fridays are indeed a blessed day when you have a job that doesn't require that you work weekends. Happy hours, shopping and general lethargy abound, with the knowledge that you have a full 48 hours to do pretty much anything. I suppose that is one way in which investment banking and school are similar. Weekends? What weekends? Work, or study. This weekend, I am resigned to the latter. No coming home, since I'm already behind in my schoolwork and have another exam on Monday. Hmph.

But it's not too bad. Just had a review for the exam, and now I have to go organize my notes because I cannot work unless my binder is in order. Yes, I'm a nerd. Even though ... she wanna real man, don't wanna nerd (anybody get me or am I flying solo again?)

So, being back in school has changed a few things. Mainly my wardrobe. I am perpetually in jeans and a fleece. Which, if memory serves me correctly, is the exact outfit I wore all through my undergrad years. Except I wore a red fleece then and now it's purple. And neither are yellow, I had to return that one to its rightful owner.

I walk a lot. I walk everywhere. Becasue Boston is a walking city. And because I shouldn't be allowed to have a driver's license, let alone a car. The hard part was giving up wearing my cute shoes, because they can walk city blocks and the subway, but they cannot take extended activity. I learned this the hard way.

On Thursday I had to go to the Post Office. I totally underbudgeted the necessary time. It took me 45 minutes. 45 minutes! I was in agony in my strappy black platform sandals. I even considered taking them off and walking barefoot for a while. By the time I turned around and made the trek back to my apartment, I decided to buy a new pair of shoes - shoes I can walk in.

Note to self and anyone else who cares: Do not go shopping for shoes when your feet hurt. It's the equivalent of going to a grocery store when you are hungry. You will buy everything that looks yummy. And Guacamole Doritos and Betty Crocker Cheesy Potatoes Mix don't exactly serve any purpose except making you feel gross after eating them.

I digress. Long story short. I bought a pair of comfortable black sandals. OK I lied. Comfortable is a euphemism for orthopaedic. I am a certified loser, and my receipt from the shoe store is my diploma from Loser College. What's happened to me? Ugly shoes, no makeup ... and ... consistently forgetting to wear earrings? Oh man.

The funny part is I still am not totally out of place. Thank you grad students for often forgetting rules of fashion! The danger ... when I return to civilization I must pay serious attention to an upgrade of appearance. Actually, studying all the time also makes it hard to converse with people, so I do hope I can still remember how to hold normal conversations. Truth be told, that's one of the main reasons for the blog ... even if I don't speak to many people while at school, this gives me some semblance of talking (or at least writing e-mails) to the people I care about.

I'm off to walk. In my unbelievably comfortable new shoes.

student beware

Hola everyone. Week 2 of school has proven to be almost as much fun as a root canal. The material proceeded to morph into a new level of difficulty, and several experiences seriously irked me. (Surprise surprise, more things I find annoying. I guess I do complain a lot. Maybe I should stop. Nah, I can't. I'll still think it, but then just berate myself for thinking it. Might as well save myself the masochism).

OK, so first ... I had a section leader that I didn't follow to well. I'm not about to pretend that I have no options and just duke it out. This is hard material, and harder for me because it still takes me a while to remember basic chemical phenomena that come so easily to students who are fresh in their learning process. So I started attending another class, which moved at a slower pace and was much more beneficial.

The problem: my exams still go to the "assigned" section leader. First I was a bit nervous to approach him and say "I stopped going to your class, please give me my exam." But again, no time for niceties. I approached him today and asked for my exam.

And he was mean to me :(

He asked whose section I was attending. Then he said my exam is probably in his bag, but "whatever." And then he said "Your name doesn't sound familiar, I don't even know if I have your exam."

HOW RUDE. OK buddy, I'm sorry I don't come to your class. But DO NOT say such things and make my heart skip a beat. You have my exam. It's in your damn bag. But then he just walked away. I called after him "Should I e-mail you with my name so you can get my exam?" He just walked away.

Knot in my stomach. I know I'm overreacting, but seriously. It's not a big deal on either end, so why'd he have to make it difficult? Grr.

OK, 'nuff about that. First lab experience yesterday and didn't blow myself up. That's good. You will not believe some of the things I realized we needed to do.

1) Use a lab notebook that has duplicate pages, and use carbon paper to make copies. Carbon paper. Carbon paper?! What? What century is this? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Do people even know what carbon paper is? Basically you write your notes and observations, and then hand in the carbon paper copy to the lab TF.

Um, why not just go make a copy of it and turn it in? Like on a copy machine? Or am I missing something?

The last time I used carbon paper was in kindergarten. I distinctly remember this. There was no copy machine in the elementary school, and the principal's office had a ditto machine. Am I dating myself or does anyone remember the ditto machine? It looks like a pasta press. You stick in your piece of paper into this roller, and then stick in a piece of carbon paper and a blank page. And you crank it through the press, and, voila, a carbon copy. That's what we used when we wanted to make copies of coloring book pages to keep 6 year olds entertained.

There is NO reason carbon paper should be used in 2004. None. Plus, I didn't even press hard enough so my carbon copy was barely legible. So I had to hand in my original for fear that the TF wouldn't be able to read it. Waste, waste ... more waste.

2) I was assigned a lab partner. She just finished her freshman year of college. And boy, was she a little too Martha Stewart turned Orgo Student. She asked me how many significant figures she should write down when we weighed some stuff. And how many significant figures should be in the percentage of something we calculated.

I won't repeat my entire rant from #1 above, but significant figures? What? Huh? So stupid. My rule of thumb: one decimal place is cool, two is plenty. And seriously, what is a sig fig? (I'm down with the lingo after 4 hours in the lab.)

OK, this was a big rant. Sorry to be so negative, this is just all a bit overwhelming and frustrating. I know why I'm here but I feel like I'm underwater. I can see the surface, but it looks blurry. And it's tough to breathe. But this too shall pass.

I hope you all are doing well! I'm going to check flights to NY this weekend. Aggravation has turned into escapism. And no more 5 hours on the bus. Get me out ASAP. But then again, I have an exam on Monday. Hmph.

remember, this is only a test

Happy belated 4th of July everyone! I spent our nation's birthday studying for my very first orgo test, which I took this morning. How sad. And how easily I embraced the neuroses which go into test-taking. Some precautions included:

1) Abstaining from anything fun, because everyone knows if you have the slightest bit of fun before a test, you will fail and the world will end.

2) Obsessively-compulsively making sure I don't oversleep. This included setting the regular alarm, the alarm on my cell phone, and asking my parents to call me in the morning and MAKE SURE I'M UP. Which they did. While I was in the shower. My mom left three messages between 7:00 and 7:04 AM. They got progressively funnier. On the last message she started to get snippy: "You asked me to wake you up, and now you're not answering the phone. Why do you stress me out like this? I don't know what to do with you anymore."

But don't worry folks, everything went smoothly, as in I got up in time. The test was OK. Harder than the practice exams, as you'd expect, but nothing that made me think "Um, did I walk into the wrong exam?"

The test lasted 1 hour and 10 minutes. The whole exam took about 40 minutes, but I could never leave an exam before the time was up. I spent a good chunk of time on that one question that I kind of knew how to do, but not really. And then I checked. And I secretly got really mad at the kids who finished early, handed in their exams and walked out, sporting the "you're STILL working on this?" look. Maybe not so secretly, because I flicked one off. Just kidding ... but still, that would've felt good.

Exams make you hungry. Was this always the case or is it something new I've discovered in my old age? Damn I'm starving. I'm not on any sort of meal plan, so getting a donut from the dining hall is out of the question (and for those of you actually reading this blog, are you starting to see my obsession with donuts?) And I can't cook for the life of me.

Aha. Finagle. Chocolate Chip bagel. Mmm.

acids and bases and models, oh my!

Hello there. So, to be honest, nothing interesting has been going on with me for the past few days. Classes and library time dominate my life. Along with the occasional distraction of building a chemical compound (or a very deformed dog) out of my molecular model set.

Today in section a guy dropped his model set. The pieces went flying everywhere - pure comic relief. I couldn't stop laughing; seriously, this summer is unfolding like one long sitcom.

The girl who was sharing the apartment was asked to leave. So now I'm all alone. I'm hopping on the first bus that will take me to NY tomorrow after I finish class. Everytime I leave New York I realize how much I love it there. The idea of just doing a summer here and returning to NY for the year to take classes seems more attractive every day. I did some research, but it seems like ye old Harvard still has the best curriculum. Hmph. I miss my doorman. And they just built a Dunkin Donuts / Baskin Robbins combo in my apartment building. IN THE BUILDING! While it's probably best that I left before developing a serious addiction, the fact that I would be mere steps from an endless supply of chocolate frosted donuts, coolatas and Puss-in-Boots ice cream (try it - a new flavor. malt balls in the ice cream! genius i tell ya...) would be so great.

That's all. Anything interesting going on with the folks reading this? Call me or write a comment. I'm easily amused.