This is a post mostly for my Ismaili friends. This morning, I was listening to Jam'n 94.5, Boston's hip-hop / R&B station. They were wishing everyone a happy holiday - they said "Merry Christmas", "Happy Hannukah" ... and finally "Khushiali Mubarak." I was floored! It turns out one of the station's DJ's is Ismaili. He was on the radio, and started explaining that Khushiali Mubarak is the greeting for Ismaili Muslims on December 13th.
The two other hosts asked "What are Ismaili Muslims? Are they smiley? I guess they are the opposite of Frowny Muslims!"
I couldn't move - this was literally the most bizarre thing! The hosts then asked if Ismailis sing anything on Khushiali. They started singing some makeshift Christmas carols (including Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer) but replaced the words "Merry Christmas" with "Khushiali Mubarak." They also asked if Ismailis have the equivalent of Santa Claus. I could hear the Ismaili DJ hesistate for a second - I'm sure he was debating whether to say the Aga Khan or not.
HOW WEIRD! Reminds me of the times we explain Ismailism to our non-Ismaili friends. How many times have we had to answer the questions: "Who's that white guy" and "Is that your grandfather?"
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
christmastime
Hello campers. The holidays are almost here! How exciting. Unfortunately or fortunately, I am relieved of the stress of holiday shopping given my Indo/M-Class combo. Gifts? What gifts? What kind of holiday is this? The closest we Ismailis get to any sort of religious holiday inspired gift giving is on Eid, when little children do Namaaz then run around asking for "Eidi" - or money. I'm not totally sure what's the genesis of this tradition, but it's been around as long as I can remember.
Economists may measure market basket prices and run complicated models to understand inflation. I could tell it to you automatically at Eid. A few years ago kids demanded $1. Then it went up. Now, if you don't fork over at least $5 to a child on the holy celebration of Eid, you might get yourself in a very sticky situation with a pesky 8-year old.
Although, I can't really complain. I'm at an age where a select few "adults" still give *me* money. Since I'm an adult and people pity my unmarried status, the going rate for me is $20. Score!
Other than that, nothing much new going on in my lazy Susan of a life. Here are some updates:
1) My computer is not infected! Turns out the problem is with the internet connection in my apartment. The problem is that the account is under my mean roommate's name. I tried to call to get them to send someone over, but I needed said roommate's SS # to verify the account. No Go. I left her a note (since she refuses to speak to either me or my nice roommate). I have a feeling this will not be resolved. On the bright side, I pick up great free wireless in the apartment. Oh, and I found a great website to help you with computer problems. They are very friendly and it's free.
2) One of my best friends came to visit this past weekend. It was SO fun. We laughed, hung out and relaxed. The only negative part of the weekend was when my psycho roommate went nuts and decided to full on yell at me and my nice roommate. It was totally unwarranted and frankly very very mean. I don't want to rehash the entire situation; but basically we had made brunch on Saturday. The kitchen was a mess after brunch, but it always is after any big meal. The mean roommate came home and suddenly got really angry about the status of the kitchen. As opposed to discussing her opinion rationally, she decided to yell at both me and my other roommate, calling us "pigs" and "disrespectful." We both walked away while she continued to yell at us. She told us she had a friend coming over that afternoon and she was pissed about the way the apartment looked. We decided to be kind and thoroughly cleaned our apartment. My friend who was visiting generously chipped in and even mopped the floor.
What was the outcome? When our doorbell rang, mean roommate ran out the door and shut it. We heard her from outside. "I'm sorry, I can't let you in. It's really embarassing. My roommates are really rude and have left the apartment in a state that I can't share."
WTF? We were livid. It frightens me to think that some people are virtually incapable of behaving like adults. In what world is yelling acceptable to get what you want? This woman is in her thirties. Furthermore, she never speaks to us period. So when something finally bothers her, she decides to yell like a child? Quite frustrating. The moral of the story: never live in a place you find off of Craigslist.
3) My brother is coming to visit me today. How fun! He is bored at home, so I convinced him to be bored in Boston instead. Just joking. He's bringing me a TV as a belated Eidi gift. For real though. It's from Costco, where else? But a TV for my room; this will change my entire life. Especially considering nice roommate is studying abroad next semester. He's here for the day, and then we head home for the holidays tomorrow. I'm hoping we can catch a show of A Very Long Engagement. J'adore Audrey Tautou.
Economists may measure market basket prices and run complicated models to understand inflation. I could tell it to you automatically at Eid. A few years ago kids demanded $1. Then it went up. Now, if you don't fork over at least $5 to a child on the holy celebration of Eid, you might get yourself in a very sticky situation with a pesky 8-year old.
Although, I can't really complain. I'm at an age where a select few "adults" still give *me* money. Since I'm an adult and people pity my unmarried status, the going rate for me is $20. Score!
Other than that, nothing much new going on in my lazy Susan of a life. Here are some updates:
1) My computer is not infected! Turns out the problem is with the internet connection in my apartment. The problem is that the account is under my mean roommate's name. I tried to call to get them to send someone over, but I needed said roommate's SS # to verify the account. No Go. I left her a note (since she refuses to speak to either me or my nice roommate). I have a feeling this will not be resolved. On the bright side, I pick up great free wireless in the apartment. Oh, and I found a great website to help you with computer problems. They are very friendly and it's free.
2) One of my best friends came to visit this past weekend. It was SO fun. We laughed, hung out and relaxed. The only negative part of the weekend was when my psycho roommate went nuts and decided to full on yell at me and my nice roommate. It was totally unwarranted and frankly very very mean. I don't want to rehash the entire situation; but basically we had made brunch on Saturday. The kitchen was a mess after brunch, but it always is after any big meal. The mean roommate came home and suddenly got really angry about the status of the kitchen. As opposed to discussing her opinion rationally, she decided to yell at both me and my other roommate, calling us "pigs" and "disrespectful." We both walked away while she continued to yell at us. She told us she had a friend coming over that afternoon and she was pissed about the way the apartment looked. We decided to be kind and thoroughly cleaned our apartment. My friend who was visiting generously chipped in and even mopped the floor.
What was the outcome? When our doorbell rang, mean roommate ran out the door and shut it. We heard her from outside. "I'm sorry, I can't let you in. It's really embarassing. My roommates are really rude and have left the apartment in a state that I can't share."
WTF? We were livid. It frightens me to think that some people are virtually incapable of behaving like adults. In what world is yelling acceptable to get what you want? This woman is in her thirties. Furthermore, she never speaks to us period. So when something finally bothers her, she decides to yell like a child? Quite frustrating. The moral of the story: never live in a place you find off of Craigslist.
3) My brother is coming to visit me today. How fun! He is bored at home, so I convinced him to be bored in Boston instead. Just joking. He's bringing me a TV as a belated Eidi gift. For real though. It's from Costco, where else? But a TV for my room; this will change my entire life. Especially considering nice roommate is studying abroad next semester. He's here for the day, and then we head home for the holidays tomorrow. I'm hoping we can catch a show of A Very Long Engagement. J'adore Audrey Tautou.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
system restore
I've been having issues with my computer for the past two days. So much so that I started this post yesterday but couldn't even finish it due to computer problems. I'm starting to think that a computer problem or virus may actually be worse than being physically sick. I find it amazing to think about how much of my life revolves around having access to a computer and especially the internet.
The problem began yesterday, when I couldn't access the Hotmail website. I wondered if this meant I had a problem with my computer, or if there was something wrong with the Hotmail site. Later that afternoon, I attempted to be productive and took my computer to the library, where there is wireless internet access. My computer couldn't find the network, however. I tried to be sneaky and jigger around with many icons that I probably should not have altered. I kept losing the connection. Once I got home and rehooked up my laptop to the cable modem, I discovered my internet access had gone from bad to worse.
I didn't fare any better this morning. My computer couldn't load up most websites. I ran spyware checks and even attempted to do a system restore (where my computer said it would revert to the form it had on December 1st. If only I had such an option for myself! I would system restore to 1985.) But apparently going backwards in time did not solve anything; I actually had to undo the rejuvenation.
I am so frustrated I think I can actually permeate anger. I spent literally all day attempting to load websites that might give me pointers on how to fix my computer. When I have a cough or cold, I take days before giving in and taking medication. It's a sad example of how virtual my life has become.
So I finally trekked over to a computer lab where I can check e-mail and update my blog. I'm actively worried about my computer. Some people say that having a pet is a good way to learn how to take care of a child, or some such fluffy adage. I disagree. Try having a computer with a virus. That's love, I tell you.
Yesterday night I went to an MCAT class. It was a makeup class, so this was not my normal prepubescent teacher. This dude was in his mid-twenties, and had a pocketful of attitude to boot. He kept using the words "crap" and "freakin" when describing certain concepts. This class was about the verbal section; he would say things such as "Don't write freakin' crap on your essays." I'm so glad I forked over way too much money to Kaplan to be taught by people like him.
On a positive note, I did manage to make it to the gym yesterday. I was pleased to discover my body had not system restored itself to my pre-working out days. I've started lifting weights. 8 pounders. You may laugh, but they are quite heavy to me.
I am going to make a very inappropriate observation ... or more specifically, ask a very inappropriate rhetorical question. I'm in the computer lab, and there is what I think is a monk in the lab. He has a shaved head and is wearing a maroon shirt with a maroon robe/toga tied around his body. Am I correct to think he is a monk? Am I a terrible person for telling you that it actually crossed my mind whether or not he's really allowed to be using a computer? I'm going straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
Hey, maybe he can help with my computer problems.
The problem began yesterday, when I couldn't access the Hotmail website. I wondered if this meant I had a problem with my computer, or if there was something wrong with the Hotmail site. Later that afternoon, I attempted to be productive and took my computer to the library, where there is wireless internet access. My computer couldn't find the network, however. I tried to be sneaky and jigger around with many icons that I probably should not have altered. I kept losing the connection. Once I got home and rehooked up my laptop to the cable modem, I discovered my internet access had gone from bad to worse.
I didn't fare any better this morning. My computer couldn't load up most websites. I ran spyware checks and even attempted to do a system restore (where my computer said it would revert to the form it had on December 1st. If only I had such an option for myself! I would system restore to 1985.) But apparently going backwards in time did not solve anything; I actually had to undo the rejuvenation.
I am so frustrated I think I can actually permeate anger. I spent literally all day attempting to load websites that might give me pointers on how to fix my computer. When I have a cough or cold, I take days before giving in and taking medication. It's a sad example of how virtual my life has become.
So I finally trekked over to a computer lab where I can check e-mail and update my blog. I'm actively worried about my computer. Some people say that having a pet is a good way to learn how to take care of a child, or some such fluffy adage. I disagree. Try having a computer with a virus. That's love, I tell you.
Yesterday night I went to an MCAT class. It was a makeup class, so this was not my normal prepubescent teacher. This dude was in his mid-twenties, and had a pocketful of attitude to boot. He kept using the words "crap" and "freakin" when describing certain concepts. This class was about the verbal section; he would say things such as "Don't write freakin' crap on your essays." I'm so glad I forked over way too much money to Kaplan to be taught by people like him.
On a positive note, I did manage to make it to the gym yesterday. I was pleased to discover my body had not system restored itself to my pre-working out days. I've started lifting weights. 8 pounders. You may laugh, but they are quite heavy to me.
I am going to make a very inappropriate observation ... or more specifically, ask a very inappropriate rhetorical question. I'm in the computer lab, and there is what I think is a monk in the lab. He has a shaved head and is wearing a maroon shirt with a maroon robe/toga tied around his body. Am I correct to think he is a monk? Am I a terrible person for telling you that it actually crossed my mind whether or not he's really allowed to be using a computer? I'm going straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
Hey, maybe he can help with my computer problems.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
the da vinci miracle
My Mom just read the Da Vinci Code. This is cause for celebration. It is the first real novel that my mother has read in probably over 20 years! I am so excited for her. Please don't get me wrong; my mom is an extremely intelligent woman. However, her time schedule and committments didn't give her much time to actually read books. I think she gave up on such luxuries when she had, as she says 'those damn kids.' I gave her a copy of the book months ago, and continually nagged her to read it. She lugged it around with her places, but she didn't really make much progress. Until this weekend. Suddenly she decided to pick it up and she discovered what most pop culture fiends learned months ago: once you pick up The Da Vinci Code, you can't put it down.
Saturday afternoon I was feeling a bit sleepy, and I ended up taking a nap when I should've been studying. I woke up tired and groggy, but glad to be home where I am used to being spoiled. "Mom... I'm hungry!" I yelled out, brat that I am.
"Wait until I finish a few more chapters!" she yelled back. Well then. Mr. Langdon, I presume. You have stolen my mother. Please return her forthwith. (Isn't forthwith a great word? Highly underutilized).
So yes, go mom! I'm hoping to compile a reading list for her so she can get back in the habit. Nothing too froofy or deep though - she likes mysteries, as she has demonstrated. Next in line is probably Angels and Demons. After that maybe a little V.C. Andrews. No, I'm being facetious. I would never subject anyone to that smut. I can't believe I got away with reading that nonsense when I was younger. It's about incest! Sitting right on my bookshelf next to Sweet Valley High and The Babysitters' Club ... how insidious.
I presume this is probably getting slightly redundant, but I have yet another Chinatown bus story to share with you all. The bus has gotten so popular that they run almost every half-hour on weekends. And they outsource some buses to independent contractors. Normally the bus drivers are Chinese and the buses have the Fung Wah or Lucky Star logos emblazoned on the sides. Now a few buses will have non-Chinese drivers and random logos.
I learned today that the independent drivers aren't as friendly as the Chinese drivers. The driver today left three people at the rest stop. People on the bus kept saying "You left people behind!" He finally stopped just ahead of the rest stop exit, and from the window we could see three people running to catch the bus. It doesn't seem so bad, yet ... right? The three people left behind were two elderly ladies and a young child traveling with them. Seriously! The bus was absolutely full, so the driver knew people had been left behind because there were 3 empty seats. The Chinese drivers would never do that; they always take count and make sure they haven't forgotten anyone. Man oh man, those poor ladies. They finally got onto the bus, but not without a bit of a scare.
The drive after that proceeded smoothly. I rode the T back to Harvard. A man and a woman were sitting across from me, chatting. I recognized them from the bus. At Park Street, the woman got up to exit, and said "Ok, this is my stop. I'll talk to you soon!" and gave the man with her a hug. He hugged her back. As she was stepping out of the door, she looked back and said "It was nice meeting you!"
Obviously I don't know the history behind their encounter, but I still found it a little strange. A hug to say goodbye to a new friend ... that you just met on the bus. I guess that's sweet (though a little too chummy, even for me.) But I suppose I'd rather have her as a friend, compared to the mean old bus driver.
Unfortunately there are some issues with the TV in my apartment ... as in there is no longer one here. No Desperate Housewives for me tonight! Probably serves me right. I have a midterm tomorrow that I am not fully prepared for.
Saturday afternoon I was feeling a bit sleepy, and I ended up taking a nap when I should've been studying. I woke up tired and groggy, but glad to be home where I am used to being spoiled. "Mom... I'm hungry!" I yelled out, brat that I am.
"Wait until I finish a few more chapters!" she yelled back. Well then. Mr. Langdon, I presume. You have stolen my mother. Please return her forthwith. (Isn't forthwith a great word? Highly underutilized).
So yes, go mom! I'm hoping to compile a reading list for her so she can get back in the habit. Nothing too froofy or deep though - she likes mysteries, as she has demonstrated. Next in line is probably Angels and Demons. After that maybe a little V.C. Andrews. No, I'm being facetious. I would never subject anyone to that smut. I can't believe I got away with reading that nonsense when I was younger. It's about incest! Sitting right on my bookshelf next to Sweet Valley High and The Babysitters' Club ... how insidious.
I presume this is probably getting slightly redundant, but I have yet another Chinatown bus story to share with you all. The bus has gotten so popular that they run almost every half-hour on weekends. And they outsource some buses to independent contractors. Normally the bus drivers are Chinese and the buses have the Fung Wah or Lucky Star logos emblazoned on the sides. Now a few buses will have non-Chinese drivers and random logos.
I learned today that the independent drivers aren't as friendly as the Chinese drivers. The driver today left three people at the rest stop. People on the bus kept saying "You left people behind!" He finally stopped just ahead of the rest stop exit, and from the window we could see three people running to catch the bus. It doesn't seem so bad, yet ... right? The three people left behind were two elderly ladies and a young child traveling with them. Seriously! The bus was absolutely full, so the driver knew people had been left behind because there were 3 empty seats. The Chinese drivers would never do that; they always take count and make sure they haven't forgotten anyone. Man oh man, those poor ladies. They finally got onto the bus, but not without a bit of a scare.
The drive after that proceeded smoothly. I rode the T back to Harvard. A man and a woman were sitting across from me, chatting. I recognized them from the bus. At Park Street, the woman got up to exit, and said "Ok, this is my stop. I'll talk to you soon!" and gave the man with her a hug. He hugged her back. As she was stepping out of the door, she looked back and said "It was nice meeting you!"
Obviously I don't know the history behind their encounter, but I still found it a little strange. A hug to say goodbye to a new friend ... that you just met on the bus. I guess that's sweet (though a little too chummy, even for me.) But I suppose I'd rather have her as a friend, compared to the mean old bus driver.
Unfortunately there are some issues with the TV in my apartment ... as in there is no longer one here. No Desperate Housewives for me tonight! Probably serves me right. I have a midterm tomorrow that I am not fully prepared for.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
what's up doc
Today I found myself in the role of patient, rather than wannabe physician. By way of background, I have terrible nasal allergies and was meaning to get checked out for a long time. My dad finally got around to calling his colleague - an Ear, Nose & Throat specialist - and scheduled an apppointment for this morning.
A few points. Being the child of physicians has some unique perks and drawbacks. First of all, any doctor I see tends to be affiliated with my parents. Second, whatever injuries / symptoms I have will be either self-medicated or ignored until there is a truly adverse effect. For example, I had a hernia surgery in high school. Post-op, the surgeon prescribed some prescription painkillers. My dad scoffed at the prescription, and told me that Tylenol would be fine. I do admit that the Tylenol worked, but I still suffered from pain - especially while laughing and/or coughing.
A side-story: during my recovery, my brother played a very cruel trick. As I lay in bed one day, he came into the room and put the tape of the movie "UHF" into the VCR. For those of you who do not know it, it's a Weird Al Yankovic movie. Enough said. The sadism, however, can be traced to when my brother took the remote and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Let me remind you that I could not move from the bed, and that laughter resulted in serious pain. A funny practical joke, perhaps. But only because I was on Tylenol and not narcs.
I return to my original theme. The doctors I see are all connected to my parents. The ENT this morning was a great doctor, but it did not escape my mind that she knows my dad. Hence some hesitation on my part when answering some questions that did not really require any thought:
"Do you smoke?"
No.
"Drink?"
Ummmm .... uhhhh ... no? (Secretly hoping that occassional imbibing is not the cause of my nighttime sniffling and sneezing, but not cough symptoms).
"Do you take your allergy medications regularly?"
Yes. No. I mean sometimes. I'm supposed to. Please don't tell my dad.
On the whole the appointment went fine. I luckily do not need surgery for my recently diagnosed deviated septum. She did a rhinoscopy (sticking a thin fiber optic camera into my nose). There were two screens in the room, and I got to see a real-time version of my nose in action. Quite disgusting, actually. But in all honesty, still better than Alexander. She also took some photos and gave me a glossy copy. It can go right into my album of school photographs. Unfortunately the neon laser beam backdrop was not available today.
The ENT suggested that I see an allergist as soon as possible and actually get tested in order to determine whether I should get immunotherapy, or allergy shots. Dr. Dad swooped in with his connections and got me an appointment for this afternoon. Now, I was not prepared for seeing an allergist or for what became a game of "pin the tail on every freaking part of my upper arm." But that is exactly what I got.
The Doctor was extremely nice and obviously very knowledgeable. After we met, he asked me, "So you are a junior?" It took me a minute, but I soon realized that my dad must have mentioned that I'm planning on going to medical school. I had to correct him and give him the abbreviated story: "worked, wrong career, med school, post-bac." When he learned I used to be an investment banker, his reaction - although quite animated - did not surprise me. "Are you crazy?? Why would you want to leave finance and become a doctor??"
Sigh. I wonder if my dad set him up for this, for that is his argument as well.
Aside from the career inquisition, the appointment proceeded smoothly. The doctor injected my arm with 15 different allergens, and I had to wait twenty minutes to see which I reacted to. By the time the waiting period was over, my arm looked as if it had been barraged by savage mosquitoes. Since he had spaced the shots pretty equally, my arm resembled a mangled flesh checkerboard. Or human bubble wrap.
The result: "You are basically allergic to everything." Hmph. I could've told you that, but I suppose now I have the proof. He suggested I begin allergy shot therapy. Sounded simple enough right ... maybe a few shots and then, presto! I'm cured! Unfortunately, nothing can be so easy. Apparently I would have to get shots over the next 3-4 years. Once a week for like six months, and then once or twice a month forevermore.
Hmmm .... I can't commit to anything for more than a month. My gym plans have fallen off my radar, as has my plan for taking a daily multivitamin (why do they make those pellets so damn huge??). Allergy shots. Allergy shots. What to do? I'd rather just bear the pain of allergies. Though I say that now, when the ragweed is down. Ask me again the next time my hay fever kicks in.
So I'm back at home, with two tasks to complete: 1) a haircut in the morning and 2) studying for my midterm on Monday. I made it to mosque tonight, where they had some kebabs after service. I love kebabs. I don't think I could ever be a vegetarian. However, I did take notice of some very precocious behavior by some kids in our mosque. Two examples:
1) The 8 year old daughter of very close family friend of ours ran by me. I grabbed her and said "Hello? Don't I get a hug?" She obliged and held her arms up for me to carry her. I picked her up and gave her a kiss. To which she responded "When are you going to get married?"
2) Some pre-teen boys were shuffling past where my friend and I were standing. We heard one kid comment to another "This place smells like balls." My friend and I glanced at each other with that "Did he really just say that?" look on our faces.
I came home and comforted myself with the most divine treat ever. Falooda Kulfi Ice cream. I don't know if this is a newly created product, but my mom recently purchased it from Patel Brothers. It's phenomenal. It is rose flavored ice cream, with the falooda sev AND the tukmariya eyeballs already *in* the mix. For those of you non-brownies out there, please forgive me for my cultural vacuum here. I can't explain it to you though. You must have it. And don't let the eyeballs freak you out. They're actually quite good.
A few points. Being the child of physicians has some unique perks and drawbacks. First of all, any doctor I see tends to be affiliated with my parents. Second, whatever injuries / symptoms I have will be either self-medicated or ignored until there is a truly adverse effect. For example, I had a hernia surgery in high school. Post-op, the surgeon prescribed some prescription painkillers. My dad scoffed at the prescription, and told me that Tylenol would be fine. I do admit that the Tylenol worked, but I still suffered from pain - especially while laughing and/or coughing.
A side-story: during my recovery, my brother played a very cruel trick. As I lay in bed one day, he came into the room and put the tape of the movie "UHF" into the VCR. For those of you who do not know it, it's a Weird Al Yankovic movie. Enough said. The sadism, however, can be traced to when my brother took the remote and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Let me remind you that I could not move from the bed, and that laughter resulted in serious pain. A funny practical joke, perhaps. But only because I was on Tylenol and not narcs.
I return to my original theme. The doctors I see are all connected to my parents. The ENT this morning was a great doctor, but it did not escape my mind that she knows my dad. Hence some hesitation on my part when answering some questions that did not really require any thought:
"Do you smoke?"
No.
"Drink?"
Ummmm .... uhhhh ... no? (Secretly hoping that occassional imbibing is not the cause of my nighttime sniffling and sneezing, but not cough symptoms).
"Do you take your allergy medications regularly?"
Yes. No. I mean sometimes. I'm supposed to. Please don't tell my dad.
On the whole the appointment went fine. I luckily do not need surgery for my recently diagnosed deviated septum. She did a rhinoscopy (sticking a thin fiber optic camera into my nose). There were two screens in the room, and I got to see a real-time version of my nose in action. Quite disgusting, actually. But in all honesty, still better than Alexander. She also took some photos and gave me a glossy copy. It can go right into my album of school photographs. Unfortunately the neon laser beam backdrop was not available today.
The ENT suggested that I see an allergist as soon as possible and actually get tested in order to determine whether I should get immunotherapy, or allergy shots. Dr. Dad swooped in with his connections and got me an appointment for this afternoon. Now, I was not prepared for seeing an allergist or for what became a game of "pin the tail on every freaking part of my upper arm." But that is exactly what I got.
The Doctor was extremely nice and obviously very knowledgeable. After we met, he asked me, "So you are a junior?" It took me a minute, but I soon realized that my dad must have mentioned that I'm planning on going to medical school. I had to correct him and give him the abbreviated story: "worked, wrong career, med school, post-bac." When he learned I used to be an investment banker, his reaction - although quite animated - did not surprise me. "Are you crazy?? Why would you want to leave finance and become a doctor??"
Sigh. I wonder if my dad set him up for this, for that is his argument as well.
Aside from the career inquisition, the appointment proceeded smoothly. The doctor injected my arm with 15 different allergens, and I had to wait twenty minutes to see which I reacted to. By the time the waiting period was over, my arm looked as if it had been barraged by savage mosquitoes. Since he had spaced the shots pretty equally, my arm resembled a mangled flesh checkerboard. Or human bubble wrap.
The result: "You are basically allergic to everything." Hmph. I could've told you that, but I suppose now I have the proof. He suggested I begin allergy shot therapy. Sounded simple enough right ... maybe a few shots and then, presto! I'm cured! Unfortunately, nothing can be so easy. Apparently I would have to get shots over the next 3-4 years. Once a week for like six months, and then once or twice a month forevermore.
Hmmm .... I can't commit to anything for more than a month. My gym plans have fallen off my radar, as has my plan for taking a daily multivitamin (why do they make those pellets so damn huge??). Allergy shots. Allergy shots. What to do? I'd rather just bear the pain of allergies. Though I say that now, when the ragweed is down. Ask me again the next time my hay fever kicks in.
So I'm back at home, with two tasks to complete: 1) a haircut in the morning and 2) studying for my midterm on Monday. I made it to mosque tonight, where they had some kebabs after service. I love kebabs. I don't think I could ever be a vegetarian. However, I did take notice of some very precocious behavior by some kids in our mosque. Two examples:
1) The 8 year old daughter of very close family friend of ours ran by me. I grabbed her and said "Hello? Don't I get a hug?" She obliged and held her arms up for me to carry her. I picked her up and gave her a kiss. To which she responded "When are you going to get married?"
2) Some pre-teen boys were shuffling past where my friend and I were standing. We heard one kid comment to another "This place smells like balls." My friend and I glanced at each other with that "Did he really just say that?" look on our faces.
I came home and comforted myself with the most divine treat ever. Falooda Kulfi Ice cream. I don't know if this is a newly created product, but my mom recently purchased it from Patel Brothers. It's phenomenal. It is rose flavored ice cream, with the falooda sev AND the tukmariya eyeballs already *in* the mix. For those of you non-brownies out there, please forgive me for my cultural vacuum here. I can't explain it to you though. You must have it. And don't let the eyeballs freak you out. They're actually quite good.
Monday, December 06, 2004
28 degrees
It's 28 degrees in Boston today. I have ramped up my arsenal of winter weather gear and am bracing for the battle ahead. This year, I've introduced a new weapon: a hat. I never really was a hat person, but I figured since combing my hair has become somewhat of an option for me of late, why not bury my Medusa-inspired 'do under a cheap piece of fleece?
But man, I'm hooked. Before I used to wear the ear-covering-headband things. They worked, insofar as keeping my ears warm. But this hat thing is genius. It really keeps me warmer than I thought it would. Who knew that all that stuff about losing most of your body heat through your head (which I always found a bit nonsensical) would turn out to be totally true?
I am aware that this fact is universally known by all cold-weather dwelling citizens; I am nonetheless still happy by my discovery. I wear my hat all the time now. Because I'm cool like dat. I even wear it in my apartment. Which, in contrast to the outside weather, is broiling. The thermostat is in my roommate's room. However, there is something wrong with one of her windows so her room is freezing all the time. She cranks up the heat, but this results in my room being transformed into a human-roasting oven. I've even had to open my window a few times, it's become so hot.
I suppose my discussion lacked purpose, except to tell you that it's cold and I like my hat. What else can I tell you? I saw Closer over the weekend. Didn't really like it. The four powerhouse actors do make the pill slightly easier to swallow, but the premise of the movie, and especially the dialogue, seemed excessively contrived. I also really agreed with the review on Salon.com. Let me know what you think if you end up seeing the movie. I'm just giving you my two cents (or $9.75, given that movie tickets are apparently now made out of gold. Seriously, $9.75? Do you know how much Taco Bell you could get for that much?)
I have not been to the gym in a bit. The great Sophia workout craze of Oct/Nov '04 wound down right after Thanksgiving. See, my parents are a bit funny (n.b.: funny meaning gullible. Read on). Every year for Halloween my brother and I convince them to buy loads of candy from Costco - where else? Without fail, my parents come home relatively late from work on Halloween. This year they weren't even home. The result: bags and bags of candy for me and my brother over Thanksgiving ... and pretty much through the New Year! And those snack-size candy bars kill you. You can have a few at a time, and have no idea that you've consumed the equivalent of 13 candy bars. Yum.
Post Thanksgiving, I came back to Boston and attempted a workout. I had made tremendous progress with my strength and endurance prior to the holiday. It disappeared overnight. I could hardly complete a low speed workout on the treadmill. I became lazy and let another week slide without working out. I'm back to Square 1, or 1 1/2 at the most.
I will go to the gym tomorrow. I must. I must, I must improve my bust. Haha, I don't even know why I wrote that. It's a reference to some TV show or movie, but I can't remember what. The cold weather is freezing my brain.
But man, I'm hooked. Before I used to wear the ear-covering-headband things. They worked, insofar as keeping my ears warm. But this hat thing is genius. It really keeps me warmer than I thought it would. Who knew that all that stuff about losing most of your body heat through your head (which I always found a bit nonsensical) would turn out to be totally true?
I am aware that this fact is universally known by all cold-weather dwelling citizens; I am nonetheless still happy by my discovery. I wear my hat all the time now. Because I'm cool like dat. I even wear it in my apartment. Which, in contrast to the outside weather, is broiling. The thermostat is in my roommate's room. However, there is something wrong with one of her windows so her room is freezing all the time. She cranks up the heat, but this results in my room being transformed into a human-roasting oven. I've even had to open my window a few times, it's become so hot.
I suppose my discussion lacked purpose, except to tell you that it's cold and I like my hat. What else can I tell you? I saw Closer over the weekend. Didn't really like it. The four powerhouse actors do make the pill slightly easier to swallow, but the premise of the movie, and especially the dialogue, seemed excessively contrived. I also really agreed with the review on Salon.com. Let me know what you think if you end up seeing the movie. I'm just giving you my two cents (or $9.75, given that movie tickets are apparently now made out of gold. Seriously, $9.75? Do you know how much Taco Bell you could get for that much?)
I have not been to the gym in a bit. The great Sophia workout craze of Oct/Nov '04 wound down right after Thanksgiving. See, my parents are a bit funny (n.b.: funny meaning gullible. Read on). Every year for Halloween my brother and I convince them to buy loads of candy from Costco - where else? Without fail, my parents come home relatively late from work on Halloween. This year they weren't even home. The result: bags and bags of candy for me and my brother over Thanksgiving ... and pretty much through the New Year! And those snack-size candy bars kill you. You can have a few at a time, and have no idea that you've consumed the equivalent of 13 candy bars. Yum.
Post Thanksgiving, I came back to Boston and attempted a workout. I had made tremendous progress with my strength and endurance prior to the holiday. It disappeared overnight. I could hardly complete a low speed workout on the treadmill. I became lazy and let another week slide without working out. I'm back to Square 1, or 1 1/2 at the most.
I will go to the gym tomorrow. I must. I must, I must improve my bust. Haha, I don't even know why I wrote that. It's a reference to some TV show or movie, but I can't remember what. The cold weather is freezing my brain.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
knitting
I've decided to learn how to knit. Actually, I remember taking lessons as a child, never to touch a needle or yarn again until college. During my senior year, my house had an auction, where people donated services that you could bid upon. Someone was offering knitting lessons. Given that my senior spring was the least stressful time of my college life, I decided that knitting would be a good thing to pick up. I received needles and two balls of yarn. But unfortunately, the woman who was supposed to teach me never came through on her side of the bargain. Not to be disparaged, I went and spent too much money on a intro to knitting book. (The Idiots' Guide to Knitting and Crocheting. I admit it).
Note to self: Don't buy a knitting book ever again. I couldn't make any sense of the drawings whatsoever. They tried to draw hands holding hooks knitting loops. That fundamentally cannot be conveyed in two dimensions. I nearly tied myself up trying to figure it out. So much for the book.
Apparently, my mom used to knit, way back in the day (though what do you knit in India? No need for anything warm there). So she showed me the basics. But this was many years ago, and I had since forgotten.
That is, until last week, when my roommate pulled out a ball of yellow yarn and knitting needles. She told me was invited to a "knitting circle" - where women sit together once a month and knit clothes for Peruvian children (for less than a cup of coffee a day, you too can participate!). Sort of bizarre, but heartwarming nonetheless. (As an aside, I was about to publish this when I caught a spelling error. I had written "heartworming" instead of "heartwarming." A little gross. I'm glad I found the mistake!).
I decided to pick it up again so that we could learn together (she is a beginner as well). Over Thanksgiving, I found my knitting supplies buried in my room and brushed off the dust. I had my mom re-teach me the basic steps, which proved to be amusing. I'm a very impatient learner and my mom sometimes doesn't explain things well. Every time she showed me how to do something, I would mess it up. It was difficult for her to tell me exactly what I did wrong, so she kept snatching the yarn out of my hands and saying "Do it like this!" Well, if I could do it like this in the first place, I wouldn't have to learn, now would I?
I'm still stuck in learning the basic steps, but I found a fun website that has up close videos on how to knit stitches. I found it quite helpful. So much so, that once I got the hang of casting on and doing basic knitting, I stayed up until 2:00 AM last night doing it. I didn't even make anything, just knit a few rows and then unraveled them. It's addicting.
So now I'm knitting and I sometimes wear orthopedic shoes. I've been under the weather recently and am continually sucking on cough drops. I just watched the Golden Girls. I prefer comfortable undergarments to fancier but uncomfortable ones.
I may be 25, but in reality I'm 80. I'm going to go get a cat.
On a completely separate note, I've noticed something. Recently, I've seen an abundance of air freshener / scented fans / scented outlets / type commercials. Why are these products suddenly so popular? Is our country stinking itself up to the point that there is serious competition for mini-fan operated scented oils? But what I saw today was a little ridiculous. It was a commercial for Febreze ScentStories. It's like a CD player but for smell. They have scented disks that you put into a player. You even have to press the "PLAY" button for it to start. The disk then starts, and progresses through five different scents. The commercial touted how you are told a "story in scent." And this woman was sitting there talking about how transported she was when she played her Scent Story.
This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I'm going to call up this dumb woman and tell her to start knitting. There are Peruvian children out there who could use a tea cozy!
Note to self: Don't buy a knitting book ever again. I couldn't make any sense of the drawings whatsoever. They tried to draw hands holding hooks knitting loops. That fundamentally cannot be conveyed in two dimensions. I nearly tied myself up trying to figure it out. So much for the book.
Apparently, my mom used to knit, way back in the day (though what do you knit in India? No need for anything warm there). So she showed me the basics. But this was many years ago, and I had since forgotten.
That is, until last week, when my roommate pulled out a ball of yellow yarn and knitting needles. She told me was invited to a "knitting circle" - where women sit together once a month and knit clothes for Peruvian children (for less than a cup of coffee a day, you too can participate!). Sort of bizarre, but heartwarming nonetheless. (As an aside, I was about to publish this when I caught a spelling error. I had written "heartworming" instead of "heartwarming." A little gross. I'm glad I found the mistake!).
I decided to pick it up again so that we could learn together (she is a beginner as well). Over Thanksgiving, I found my knitting supplies buried in my room and brushed off the dust. I had my mom re-teach me the basic steps, which proved to be amusing. I'm a very impatient learner and my mom sometimes doesn't explain things well. Every time she showed me how to do something, I would mess it up. It was difficult for her to tell me exactly what I did wrong, so she kept snatching the yarn out of my hands and saying "Do it like this!" Well, if I could do it like this in the first place, I wouldn't have to learn, now would I?
I'm still stuck in learning the basic steps, but I found a fun website that has up close videos on how to knit stitches. I found it quite helpful. So much so, that once I got the hang of casting on and doing basic knitting, I stayed up until 2:00 AM last night doing it. I didn't even make anything, just knit a few rows and then unraveled them. It's addicting.
So now I'm knitting and I sometimes wear orthopedic shoes. I've been under the weather recently and am continually sucking on cough drops. I just watched the Golden Girls. I prefer comfortable undergarments to fancier but uncomfortable ones.
I may be 25, but in reality I'm 80. I'm going to go get a cat.
On a completely separate note, I've noticed something. Recently, I've seen an abundance of air freshener / scented fans / scented outlets / type commercials. Why are these products suddenly so popular? Is our country stinking itself up to the point that there is serious competition for mini-fan operated scented oils? But what I saw today was a little ridiculous. It was a commercial for Febreze ScentStories. It's like a CD player but for smell. They have scented disks that you put into a player. You even have to press the "PLAY" button for it to start. The disk then starts, and progresses through five different scents. The commercial touted how you are told a "story in scent." And this woman was sitting there talking about how transported she was when she played her Scent Story.
This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I'm going to call up this dumb woman and tell her to start knitting. There are Peruvian children out there who could use a tea cozy!
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