tandoori turkey

Hello fellow thankful beings. Happy belated Thanksgiving to you all! I hope you enjoyed your holiday celebration.

For Turkey Day, my family was invited out to an Indian restaurant. Not exactly your typical Thanksgiving dinner, but boy do I love Indian food. Nevertheless, turkey did make its way into our smorgasboard of curries and kebabs. Tandoori Turkey. No joke. The restaurant had a special for Thanksgiving.

I wish I could tell you that this was the recipe to best all strangely bizarre turkey recipies. No more tales of tofurkey or turkducken. Tandoori Turkey saves the day! But sadly, I cannot. It was perfectly enjoyable, but not worth the effort. I had a few bites and then went back to my luscious mango lassi and chicken tikka masala. No cultural fusion and/or assimilation here, thank you very much.

What is a group of Indian and Pakistani families to do on Thanksgiving night, when the normal post-turkey tryptophan stupor afflicts our reveling neighbors? There is only one answer: go to the movies. Note that this is the same thought process that drives us in hoards to see movies on Christmas Day. Except on that day we are joined in our actions by our friends of the Jewish faith.

We saw Alexander. You can stop reading here if you are planning on seeing it soon and do not want to be influenced by my extremely persuasive writing. I keed.

It sucked. So badly. I literally cannot think of a more appropriate or articulate way to state it. I thought the movie was disjointed and the acting was appalling. Colin Farrell certainly provides a service with his ridiculous good looks, but that's about it. He seems to think that pretending to be constipated can pass for very serious reflection.

While I can easily stare at him for about 15 minutes, doing so for the duration of the movie was a challenge. As a public service announcement, please be aware that the movie is approximately 3 hours long. Any movie of that length that does not include musical numbers with women in saris is completely unacceptable.

For the boys - and some of the girls out there - Anjelina certainly is phenomenally hot. Hotter than hellfire. She looks pretty damn good in the movie too. But that's it. It was impossible to actually believe her as Olympias (Alexander's Mom), rather than someone trying desperately hard to act the part. This woman's acting skills are worse than Donald Trump's ability to read from a teleprompter. The accent she attempted to adopt failed miserably. Where did she get the idea that not moving her jaw and rolling her r's as if she is taking a beginning French class can pass as a Macedonian accent? The last time she purred "Alexandrrr", I could have sworn I felt spittle fly across the theater.

Last petty criticism: Alexander is shown writing during one scene. It looks like Greek letters on the scroll, but when I looked closer, it was all English. The font, I suppose, was "Oliver Stone thinks this is what ancient Greek probably looked like." I mean, sure the dialogue is all in English, but give the audience some credit ... at least have the props look somewhat realistic!

The best part of the movie occurred when an unfortunate fellow decided to lay a large and noisy fart about 2 hours into the movie. The whole theather erupted in laughter - you could feel the laughter wave move from left to right as people couldn't contain themselves. Highly amusing. Even my mom giggled.

Also, why do theaters have seats in the front? Seats should not begin until about 20 rows back. Sitting anywhere closer is pure torture and a mean scam by the theater companies.

Enough about Alexander the Not-So-Great. Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I am thankful for:

My family. My new life and my old friends. The metrocard reader at the subway stations that tells you how much money you have left on a metrocard before you get stuck in the turnstyle with insufficient fare. And everything in between. And I'm thankful for all of you who actually read this and give me reason to write. As dorky as it is, I do so very much enjoy keeping this blog.

da game

Harvard won the Harvard Yale football game. I don't think I'll ever take Ivy League Football seriously. I'm convinced they are playing with Nerf footballs.

I haven't actually watched the game itself in years - the real fun is at the tailgates. This year we had to buy tickets to attend the tailgate; nothing like Harvard to remind you that having fun really does come at a price. But I must admit, it was a blast. There were several mini-reunions with friends I had not seen in quite some time. And they were serving mac & cheese. Mmm.

A fantastic weekend overall though. I didn't eat much on Friday, so partying on Friday night turned out to be quite economical, if you get my drift. I bonded with my roommate (not the francoholic). She's awesome! She joined us for some dancing on Friday. On Saturday, she hosted a potluck dinner and made lasagna and Oreo cheesecake from scratch. She is also helping me learn how to cook. At least we know she welcomes a challenge.

Are you all watching Desperate Housewives yet? It's so trashy, I know. But I looove it. I used to be addicted to Melrose Place - and this is literally a reincarnation of that genius of a show. Two of the actors from Melrose Place are on Desperate Housewives too. How fun. Let me know if you're into it. I need someone to watch and talk about it with.

Oh, every year they have t-shirts at the Game where each school pokes fun at the other. This year's shirt was great. What do Yale and poop have in common? They are both #2.

five times five is

Twenty-five is a funny age. I'm past the midpoint of my twenties. I remember thinking when I was young that somebody who was 25 was sooo old. But it's not so bad. It's no 16 though. That was a good year. And four. Four was pretty fun also. Hey, they are all square numbers. Maybe 25 won't be so bad.

Obviously, my dorkiness has not subsided with age.

I subscribe to the A Word A Day e-mail. They send you A Word A Day (duh) with a definition and etymology. Each week's words are associated with a theme, and the words are usually pretty unique. This week's theme is "words to describe women." Earlier this week, words included "sylph" and "minx." Words that conjure the image of sexy, sneaky, flirty women. So what would today's word - my birthday word - be, I wondered. As I checked my e-mail this morning, I was greeted with this:

feme sole (fem sol) noun, plural femes sole
A single woman, whether divorced, widowed, or never married

There was nothing left to do except smile and embrace my feme soledness.

I am fortunate in that my birthday falls on the weekend of the Harvard / Yale Football game, which is tomorrow. A large contingent of my friends from college are in town, and we get to celebrate good times tonight! I have an outfit picked out. It involves pink. An ode to my blog.

Oh, and Happy World Toilet Day everyone!

happy birthday to loo

My brother just sent me an article from CNN.com titled "Summit Flushes Out Smelly Toilets." The article describes how the 2004 World Toilet Summit is being held next week in Beijing. Officials hope to ameliorate China's public toilet situation, especially in light of the Olympics in 2008.

While the subject matter was interesting, my brother sent it to me solely for the last line in the article:

"The last day of the summit falls on November 19, World Toilet Day, when organizers say they hope to focus worldwide attention on promoting toilet etiquette."

Ahem. November 19th is my birthday. My birthday is World Toilet Day.

I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy the anniverary of my birth in the same way ever again. I also think that everyone who becomes aware of this will give me toilet themed gifts for the rest of my life.

So next Friday, if you sprinkle while you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat. And then wish me a happy birthday.

ps: I am very proud of the title I came up with for this post. I know I'm being self-indulgent, but I can't stop giggling. Hee hee!

library

Yesterday I went to the local library and got a library card. Since apparently Harvard doesn't consider Extension School students to be real Harvard students, I can't use the libraries on campus.

The Cambridge Public Library provided the necessary characters one would expect in such a venue. Random local people perusing the newspapers. Small women with sunglasses examining the titles in the Romance section. A little old lady librarian, who took about 30 minutes to type in my information to the computer before I could get a library card. My e-mail address has an underscore in it (you know, as in this_thing). I don't think she had ever seen an underscore before, and wasn't sure what to do with it. Instead, she decided to underline my entire name. I don't think I'll be getting my overdue notice e-mails. Oh well.

But I did find some books that I've been meaning to read, which was nice. No more buying books for a while. It's starting to get expensive and I don't really have the space. Plus, someone once told me that the more you use your local libraries, the more tax dollars they can get to buy books. I don't know if it's true, but hey, if I can be a good samaritan in addition to being cheap, that's cool.

While at the library, I peeked in on a day-care class that was going on. The little kids were singing the alphabet song and "Old Macdonald had a farm." It was too cute; I was embarassed to find myself swaying to their voices in the doorway. I'm going to have to buy me a kid one of these days.

I have my first MCAT class tonight. Last week we had our diagnostic exam, which thoroughly shook any remnants of self-confidence I had left out of my system. I know these test-prep companies do this on purpose, so that you feel like you've grown a second brain by the time you take the actual exam and perform profoundly better than you did on the obnoxious diagnostic. That being said, if I don't improve much, I should look into whether they are hiring at my local library. At least I can find the underscore key.

snowflakes

It snowed yesterday for about 10 minutes. I looked up as I was leaving class and couldn't believe it. The weather did not suggest snow, but there it was. The light flurries were beautiful - the type that you can see through the light cast by lamposts and that melts before it hits the ground.

As pretty as the scene was, it doesn't change that fact that these snowflakes are the harbinger of winter. Here comes Jack Frost. Luckily I have a new bright red down jacket to protect me from the cold. It looks like a huge comforter (or a sleeping bag as a friend told me). But I like it. And it's red! But I will tell you the best part about the coat ... are you ready? It was from Costco. That's right. That's why I love it so much. I bought it wholesale. And in bulk. I have 2o more at home. (I'm kidding, though now that I wrote it, I'm wondering why I didn't buy more, you know, in case I lose mine or something.)

Since winter is coming and I could potentially never leave my apartment, I decided to motivate myself to become more active. I joined a gym. This is a big deal. I'm the least athletic person I know. Changing the channel on the remote control is my idea of exercise. The last time I consistently worked out was in high school, when I was on the track team. Yes folks, it's true, I used to be on a sports team. Though track was really my only option. All the other sports had a pre-requisite of hand-eye coordination, which wasn't really happening on my part.

I ran spring track all four years. I used to run the half-mile. And do the high jump. Yes, that's correct. The high jump. 5 feet 2 inches tall and I used to do the high jump. How lucky was I that everyone else on my team sucked so bad at that event? It was the best ... during track practices I would say I had to work on the high jump. I would take one or two jumps while other people were running until their legs turned to putty. In between jumps, I would take mini-naps on the huge high-jump pit. Nobody ever picked up on it.

Let me preface for you that I am from Long Island. In the vicinity of my neighborhood, most girls are under 5' 5". The population has a high concentration of Jewish, South Asian and Asian families. So my participating in the high-jump wasn't too out of place. I didn't do too poorly in the local track meets either. Those two elements combined into a delusional notion that I was actually pretty good at this sport.

That was, of course, until I made it past the local qualifiers into the county meet. Where we competed against other schools that had more diverse student bodies. Where I hardly came up to the bellies of some of the girls I was competing against. Let's just say I didn't really participate in the high jump much after that.

What was I saying? Oh yes. Quite a long way to tell you that I joined a gym. I've been pretty regular about going too, which is as nice as it is surprising. Overall it's probably a good thing, given that my eating habits and sweet tooth have not improved whatsoever.

say it ain't so

I almost feel like it would be overkill to lament the horror of this election. So this will be brief.

What happened? Why did the American public re-elect this sorry excuse for a human, let alone a President? Why is the voting process so problematic? Why did people wait 10 hours in line to vote? Why should I feel proud to be an American?

Who are my fellow Americans? People who would rather pass judgement than make good judgement. People who fear gay marriage and partial birth abortion, rather than the looming economic crisis and their upcoming Social Security benefits.

Another election conceded. Two in a lifetime. When my kids read about the Bush presidency in their textbooks and ask me if I remember, will I say it's too painful to talk about?

So much more to learn, reflect upon and think about. I defer to my much wiser friends at the Three Guys blog.

paris je t'aime

My living situation in Cambridge is a bit odd. I found my apartment through Craigslist - mistake #1. Actually, the place itself is pretty nice and serves my needs. One room in a 3-bedroom; all I had to do was furnish my own room. Everything else was already there.

After I moved in, I started to pick up on the weird vibe in the apartment. There are two other women who live here: one is 26 and is pursuing a degree in drama. The other is in her thirties and I'm not totally sure what she does.

The background, I learned, is as follows. The older roommate has been living in this apartment for quite some time. She furnished the majority of it, and basically runs it like a boarding house. She likes it too much to leave, so looks for new roommmates whenever people move out. She doesn't own the apartment though - she just advertises for new roommates. All three tenants' names are on the list. Seems normal. But it's not.

First of all, Paris is the dominant theme in the apartment. I noticed it when I first saw the place, but didn't realize the extent of it until I arrived. It's really creepy. Every piece of artwork has to do with France (usually the Eiffel Tower). In the living room there are three paintings of the Eiffel Tower. Three picture frames with it. A pillow with a picture of the tower. And another pillow that says "My other house is in France." And la piece-de-resistance, an Eiffel Tower shaped lamp.

That's just the beginning. All the artwork in the hallways is in French. The sign on the bathroom door says "Salle de Bain." The guest room (a tiny space with a futon) has a huge map of France. The kitchen has tiles in French. The drinking glasses have pictures of France on them. The other day she left her room door open and I peeked in. Whoa! "I'd rather be in Paris" pillows decorated her bed. Bookshelf filled with books about Paris.

You would think this woman were French, correct? Alas, she is not. She's Southern. She is a francoholic. In addition, she is also incapable of having social interactions. She doesn't speak to me or the other woman at all. She only spends time in her room (she even eats in her room). She devises cleaning schedules for the apartment that are a little frighteningly detailed (snippets include: Mop floor with 1/2 Murphy's Oil and 1/2 Water. Clean countertop with Clorox wipes). The brand names are italicized. She also only communicates in post-it notes. Recently, I saw the vacuum in the pantry. There was an empty vacuum bag on top of it with a note saying "Please replace me. Thanks!" Wha-wha? Where the hell am I?

But frankly, none of this really affected my life or personal space, so I didn't really care. Recently, however, the other roommate has been getting frustrated about the living situation. Apparently she will be taking a semester abroad and wants to sublet her room, but the francoholic won't agree to it. So they've got some beef (or filet mignon, given that everything is now in French). Roommate #2 has started to act a bit passive-aggressively to make sure the other woman realizes that we all share this space. Her actions include draping a blanket over the couch and lighting candles all over the apartment (because her mother is a candlemaker. Don't ask. I don't make this stuff up.) So now I feel like I'm in a French Church. Just great.

It's amusing to watch. It's temporary housing and with it comes temporary weirdness. Doesn't really matter though. What does is that I have a midterm tonight.

suffrage

I voted yesterday since I won't be in New York on Tuesday. It was the first time I've ever voted. It felt good. I used to be a relatively apolitical person, and by conventional standards I probably still am. But the Bush administration proved to be the straw that broke this camel's back. How can you not be concerned about our country, our safety and our freedom after what has happened? You've probably guessed what party line I voted, but it felt nice to actually cast a ballot and think, albeit romantically, that my voice does make a difference.

Can you believe that the 19th Amendment was passed in 1920? 84 years. There are people still alive today who were around when women couldn't vote. It's amazing when you think about it, isn't it? How much the world has changed in less than a century. Civil rights have expanded, societies are more pluralistic, technological advances have changed virtually everything in our daily lives. Amazing. And the President of the United States can't speak English. We exist in the Twilight Zone.

I voted and the Red Sox won the World Series. Good things are happening.

Last night I saw the movie "Saw" with some friends. I had never even heard of it. How can you say no to your friend who asks you if you want to 'see Saw'? Damn it was a good movie. So good. Freaky deaky. So scary. I don't get scared too easily, but I nearly cut off my friend's circulation as I grabbed her arm repeatedly during the movie. And I was the girl who kept screaming at the scary parts.

But two thumbs up from me. Werry Werry Good. Tip Top. Solid yaar.

Somebody had brought their kids to the movie, and they were sitting in front of us. The kids couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old. And it was a 10 PM showing. Seriously people, what are you doing? Couldn't find a babysitter so dragged the kids along? Let them eat a nutritious dinner of Milk Duds and popcorn, and be so scared that they won't be able to sleep. I always wonder about people like that. I'm not passing judgement on their parenting abilities, but I would hope that they would have more sense than to desensitize their children to violence by the age of 5.

Happy Halloween everyone! I'm going as a quarter life crisis.

candy corn

Who is the cruel genius that invented candy corn? Damn! Those little sugar kernels must be laced with some crazy drugs. I can't stop eating them. They are so good. Why do we only get them at Halloween? I know, because if we had them year round I would be in a sugar coma by now.

Somehow I landed myself back as acting secretary in my dad's office. I was supposed to head back to Boston this morning. Instead, I was woken up at 4:30 AM by my father. Through some unfortunate alignment of the stars, he needed me to come in to his office today. By the way, there was no reason for him to do this at 4:30 AM, since I didn't have to leave until 9:00 AM. He was just awake at 4:30 and figured he'd take care of telling me about it then.

A drug representative (a cute, just graduated from a small liberal arts school where he probably played football and is now acting as a drug rep because he was interested in science and medicine but didn't want to be a doctor-type drug rep) came into the office today. He thought I was the secretary and gave me his card. Later, he asked if I work most days. I informed him that I was actually the doctor's daughter and I was filling in for the normal secretary. At which point he jumped out of his seat, introduced himself to me (handshake and all) and then gave me some free pens and three halloween packets of candy corn.

Hence the candy corn lunch. I am treading a fine line between giddiness and nausea. I really need to stop eating so much candy. My dentist will not be pleased with me.

Hopefully I'll head back to Cambridge sometime tonight or tomorrow morning, since technically I do have some sort of job at a hospital. An unpaid job, as oxymoronic as that is. I was explaining the situation to a friend of mine who misunderstood and thought I was getting paid, in addition to getting hospital experience. "That's a great way to kill two birds with one stone." I clarified and said that I was not getting paid. He thought for a moment, then ventured "Way to kill one bird with one stone." I don't know why, but I found it so funny that I laughed for a good five minutes.

When I came back to NY on Friday, I had yet another annoying experience on the Chinatown bus. Some idiot tried to shove their laptop bag into the miniscule "overhead compartments" on the bus. Of course, it didn't fit and halfway through the ride fell out of the compartment and hit me on the head. It hurt, but it wasn't terrible.

And I also ended up next to a Chatty Cathy (but he was male. Chatty Keith? Loquacious Luke? Verbose Victor?) I was engrossed in a book, but he felt the need to inject commentary on the ride. "Look at the beautiful colors on those trees," he said, followed by "The sun is peeking through the clouds over there."

Was I supposed to cry and then pour out my deepest thoughts to him? No, I just smiled. Then got hit in the head with a laptop.

for dummies

Yesterday, as I sat on the T in Boston, I engaged in my daily indulgence of people watching. And humanity did not fail to keep me entertained.

A man got on the train, sat down, and pulled a yellow book out of his bag. I recognized it immediately as a book for "Dummies." Ya'll know what I'm talking about. And I couldn't stop staring at his book. Islam for Dummies. The title seemed so surreal. Islam for Dummies? I'm not sure if this is the vision of proselytization that the religion's founders had in mind. I think it's great that this man was curious about Islam, but I wonder if there were more appropriate books that could have introduced him to the tenets of the faith. But the Dummies books are user-friendly, so I can understand his desire to go for the gold. Cliffs Notes for Adults.

The Dummies series fascinates me. Learn about any topic you could ever imagine in plain English. Teach yourself a little something about wine and then JavaScript over the course of a lazy Sunday afternoon. I have to admit that the title is pretty snazzy as well. Just because you're a Dummy, it doesn't mean you are dumb!

In the beginning, they made perfect sense. The books were geared towards computer programs. No need to plow through manuals filled with technical jargon - just buy a book for Dummies and figure out how to hook up your speakers to your computer. But the format became so popular that the Dummies series expanded to every category of self learning. So powerful was the Dummy force, in fact, that a competitor with a similar theme and heretofore assumed insulting name broke in to the market. Hence the Idiot's Guide.

What's next? "The Dumbasses' Guide to Smoking Pot and Playing X-Box?"

I decided to do a little investigative reporting. Amazon has 34,744 items listed when you search "for dummies." I got a bit lazy and didn't check if all of them are actually Dummies books. But I wouldn't be surprised. I then went to the Dummies website, in an effort to see if I could get a final count on Dummies books in print. Unfortunately it is organized by category, and I didn't feel like manually counting the individual listings. The Dummies website is not for Dummies (brace yourself, there will be many more of those to come.)

Anyway, to cut to the chase, I decided to list my top ten favorite titles that I encountered in my Dummies Safari, along with commentary. Drumroll please ...

10) Online Dating for Dummies
This is why I will never join Match.com, no matter how single or lonely I am.

9) Homebrewing for Dummies
Please check for this guide lurking in college dorm rooms the next time you go to a keg party.

8) Pressure Cookers for Dummies
This one should come with an insurance policy.

7) Beekeeping for Dummies
As should this one.

6) Haircutting for Dummies
I have been to a stylist or two where this must have been their course textbook.

5) Etiquette for Dummies
If you're reading this book, I think you need a little more help than etiquette.

4) Chihuahuas for Dummies
For people who really liked those Taco Bell commercials.

3) Depression for Dummies
Depression is a serious medical condition. Besides, calling a depressed person a Dummy sure isn't going to cheer him up.

2) Raising Smart Kids for Dummies
If you're a Dummy, you probably need all the help you can get.

And my favorite for Dummies book yet ...

1) AD/HD for Dummies
Really? What, is each chapter like 10 words long?

papa don't preach

I just finished my bi-weekly biology lecture. An evening class has proven to be less painful than I assumed it would be. Except for tonight, where we were missing the Yankees-Red Sox game. During the lecture, a man raised his hand (mind you it's a 200+ person class), to announce that the Sox just hit a grand slam. Everyone started clapping.

Fairweather fan that I am, I think I must now start rooting for the Sox. Because this is freaking awesome. Although try as I will, it's tough for a woman to break away from the Jeter / A. Rod double play (my first attempt at a baseball pun, please don't judge me). I like them. I likem a lot.

Anyway, we have an exam next week. For some reason the Professor gave a five minute speech about exam taking strategy. His advice began with comments about study habits: Don't cram and don't look at the answers for the practice problems before attempting to do them. He concluded with tips on relaxing before the exam: Do something you enjoy. Take a bath. Read a book. See a movie. Have sex!

Huh? I hate when Professors try to be cool like dat. People giggled. Haha, the Professor said sex and not in the gender sort of way! I found it pretty lame on two accounts - first, this class is filled with adults. It's night school, remember. People who went to college and then the school of hard knocks for their graduate degrees. Do we really need advice on how to study? Perhaps some people might need it, but I still found it to be overkill.

And then to try and tell us to relax before an exam? I am not paying to hear you state the obvious sir. Nor am I paying for your suggestions on relaxation activity. Speaking of activity, Go Sox! I mean Yankees! I love Derek Jeter and he has a dating history that includes Indian women. Woohoo!

oprah

This is "write about powerful women week" on my blog. After my little tribute to Martha, I thought, well let me write about Oprah next.

That's not totally true. Last night I watched the E! True Hollywood Story on Ms. Winfrey. Quite fascinating; this woman has had one heck of a hard life. But she made it up the ladder, one step at a time. And now she's the first African-American woman billionaire ever. Go Oprah!

I understand Oprah's charm. There is something about her; she definitely connects with her audience. Some of you probably disagree, but have you ever seen her show? Or at least the "My Favorite Things" episodes? How can you not remember the T-Shirt Sheets? I used them all through college on the sole advice of this woman.

But you must have heard of the car giveaway, right? Man, I cried my eyes out when watching that episode. Although, after she did that there was a little catch. The people who received the cars had to pay about $7,000 in taxes (the cars were regarded as gift income). Some people couldn't afford it so they had to sell the car in order to pay the tax.

However, she still rocks. I want to go see her show one day. Last year I worked out of my company's Chicago office for a while; I now regret not having taken advantage of the opportunity then.

Do you think this post was a little too boring? Well then ponder this: If Oprah Winfrey married Deepak Chopra, she'd be Oprah Chopra.

That one always cracks me up. That, and: If Yoko Ono married Sonny Bono she'd be Yoko Ono Bono. Hee hee.

martha's jailyard

Martha Stewart wrote a letter to her supporters from prison. She said that she is very busy, and that prison camp is "like an old-fashioned college campus -- without the freedom, of course." She also requested her supporters not to send any more gifts or money to her in jail.

Ahem. People were sending Martha Stewart MONEY IN JAIL? Money? People? People giving their money to her? She is worth hundreds of millions of dollars! Let's think about who would be sending Martha money. Logically, it would be people who have more money than she does, correct? Somehow I doubt that Bill Gates, the Sultan of Brunei and Oprah are sending Martha envelopes with nail files and five dollar bills. On the contrary, it is probably Mr. and Mrs. Amos and Anita Johnsonsmithklinebeecham from Oklahoma feeling sorry for Ms. Stewart all alone without any pies and ribbons to keep her busy.

Not that I have anything against Martha. It's quite the opposite; I think she's pretty freaking cool for turning the art of homemaking into a billion dollar business. And yes, insider trading is bad. Very bad. But for real, I think she was turned into a scapegoat during an era of corporate malfeasance.

From my brief affair with the world of investing, I realized that what can and cannot be considered insider information is highly subjective. Where is the line drawn? If Sam Waksal told me his drug wasn't getting approved, you bet I would've sold without thinking twice. If insider information were really that bad, Warren Buffet would've been in jail years ago. Did you know that all the big-wig CEOs go to Omaha, Nebraska to seek Warren's advice over a piece of steak? It's true. Martha did. And do you think Warren does this for free? Yeah right. And you wonder why Berkshire Hathaway is the most amazing thing ever. Information is worth the price of a steak.

To be fair, insider trading is not the reason Martha is doing time at Shawshank, but I still think it is worth clarifying. She shouldn't have lied to the Feds. Probably inhaled too much baking powder.

She may write a book from prison. That'd be interesting. Why write a book though? Don't you think it would make the freaking best reality TV show? I'm sure they could wing it with the networks. I would watch it for sure.

seat's taken

I can officially be labeled a commuter student. I may be the first person to commute to Harvard from New York. I take the bus so frequently back and forth that my Dad commented that it doesn’t make much sense to rent an apartment in Boston. I should stay in a hotel whenever I come up here, it would be more economical.

That being said, I was on the bus yesterday to Boston. I sat down and placed my bag on the empty seat next to me, and then tried to go to sleep. More than half of the bus was empty, and I figured nobody would bother me.

A few minutes later, I felt my bag move. I looked up and saw this strange Indian guy pointing at my bag. (Given my Columbus Day rant, I should clarify that he was South Asian). Oh no. I heard it before he said it … “Can I sit here?”

What was I supposed to do? The entire bus was empty, and he wants to sit next to me? I nodded and then moved my bag. But then I felt uncomfortable. Why did he want to sit with me? Was he going to begin an awkward game of 20 questions? I began to imagine potential inquiries: What’s your name? Are you Indian? Are we related? Are you married? Are you going to eat that?

Perhaps I’m not giving him enough credit. He may have been defensive; maybe he thought the bus would fill up and that I was the least menacing person to sit next to. Although, I would think human nature would be to be to grab whatever open space is available first, and then try to defend it.

I finally excused myself and moved to the back of the bus. I don’t know if it was rude, but I couldn’t fathom having to sit next to someone when there was plenty of room elsewhere. I stretched out and slept for the majority of the ride. And nobody bothered me.

Class was fun last night. Though the Professor said that he would try and let us out early to “See the Yankees lose.” That’s great; I’m so glad baseball can affect class time, but the last presidential debate cannot.

Also, here is the most fun thing EVER. Digital Bubble Wrap.

chocolate pudding

Last night I had a craving for chocolate pudding. So I went to the grocery store and bought a packet of Jell-O instant pudding and made it.

I ate the entire thing. Like four servings worth. Once I started I couldn't stop. Pudding is highly underrated. I remember eating it frequently as a kid. When did pudding become a faux-pas for adults? I don't know, but I am taking a stand. Bring back the pudding!

It's all about finding comfort these days - whether it be through family, friends or pudding. Too many crazy things happening all around. Our elections and our choice for the lesser of two evils. The Afghani elections our highly unintelligent President keeps referring to. He seems to ignore the violence that has surrounded them, or the fact that there is already concern they might not be legitimate. The mess that is Iraq. The awful genocide (genocide! - even Colin Powell admitted it as such) in Sudan. It's overwhelming.

And then Superman passed away. That was really sad; he was quite an impressive person. I had just read an interview he had done with a magazine. OK fine it was the Readers' Digest. I love that magazine. I've finally admitted that shameful secret. Even though Readers' Digest can make the local gas station attendant seem like the most inspirsing person you've ever met, the Christopher Reeve interview was touching. He was able to go from a diagnosis of total paralysis to being able to move his fingers, and move his limbs while underwater. It's truly awe-inspiring. But life is unpredictable and often sad.

Combine all this chaos in the world with the fact that I don't know what I am doing with my life, and chocolate pudding suddenly seems to make a lot of sense as a decision for the moment.

columbus day

How is it October already? Since this is my first post during this month, it dawned on me that I am entering my sixth month of blogging. Happy half-year anniversary to my ability to keep pretending that my life is interesting enough to write about!

Columbus Day is a funny holiday. It's one that I never realize is a holiday until the week before, and someone says "What are you doing for the long weekend?" and you say "What long weekend?"

Let us celebrate 1492 and the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria. And the arrival of infectious disease and other precious gifts from the Western world to the native cultures of our land. Why do we even recognize this as a holiday? I think it is a sad tribute to American arrogance. And the atrocities of history education in our school systems. We all took 5th grade Social Studies. The European explorers were brave and courageous men. The King and Queen of Spain sent Columbus to discover new lands and expand humanity's understanding of the world. Somehow, the themes of greed, gold and imperialism seem to have been omitted.

I have been reading A People's History of the United States for what seems like eternity. Actually it's one of those books I pick up and read when I am in between other books. It's a really good book. The author is obviously liberal in his retelling of American History, but it does provide a nice balance to the cookie-cutter stories of standard history that is taught. For example, he references Columbus' diary, shortly after his arrival in the Bahamas, on observing the Arawak Indians:

"They would make fine servants ... With fifty men we could subjugate them all and make them do whatever we want."

Nice to know he's the inspiration for this odd long-weekend filled with retail stores sales.

I think that desis should get some sort of recognition on Columbus Day. In an effort to say that "Columbus thought he found you but it wasn't really you and now when people say Indian they need to clarify if they mean South Asian or Native American." I think we'd appreciate it ... yes I do.

bob the builder

Yesterday, I received the bookcase, computer desk and office chair that I had ordered from Staples.com. Today, I assembled them. All-buh-myself!

I knew it would be a challenge, given my lack of coordination and even more prominent lack of strength. It wasn't terrible though; but it did take a good part of my morning. The desk was surprisingly not that difficult - I did the whole thing with the screws and that little L-shaped screw-tightening-thing. Does that little dohickey have a name? It's da bomb. I felt like MacGyver.

The chair wasn't so easy though. It took me a good hour and a half. Things didn't fit, some parts were uneven. I came close to giving up, but muscled through it. I finally finished and sat on my creation. At which point I looked down and saw the packet with the chair warranty information. And a flyer that said:

"Buy this chair assembled for an additional $5!"

$5? I could have bought it assembled for $5?! Why was this piece of information INSIDE THE BOX? Shouldn't they have had this somewhere on the website? Or at some point *before* I completed my order? Oh man! I still feel proud that I did it myself (although there will always be a hint of fear that it will fall apart when I sit on it). But $5 is definitely in the zone where I would've bought it ready made.

At least I have a chair to sit on to watch the debates tonight.

rain rain go away

What a dreary day. I definitely have seasonal affected disorder (SAD). I didn't want to get out of bed and have been feeling blue all day. It's hard to stop the deluge of negative thoughts when they start. I began to freak out about this career switch. I have no job. I can't cook and found myself seriously staring at the TV dinners in CVS yesterday before deciding to get some take out. CVS -- not even the grocery store - that's how lame I am.

I am scared I won't get into medical school. The statistics are pretty frightening - something like 1 out of 3 applicants doesn't get in. That doesn't mean they don't get in to their top choice schools. It means they don't get in period.

It's impossible to operate under a regime of fear, so I am wholeheartedly trying to remain as optimistic as possible throughout this process. But there are days, or moments within each day, where I find myself going through the ever-growing list of What-Ifs. What if I don't get in? What if I do get in and then realize it was the wrong decision? What if I have to move far away for school? I can occupy an entire day with What Ifs.

But these are the risks I have to take. How can you be certain that any career is the right career? There is no crystal ball that can guarantee your choices to be correct. All I know is that I tried something for a while, and I was pretty good at it. But it didn't make me happy. I didn't have the desire to learn more about my field and continually challenge myself. I do think medicine will offer me that. I really hope it will.

I'm not delusional in the sense that I think it will be easy work and will offer me never-ending intellectual stimulation. Far from it. I've seen the frustration it causes my parents. I could write an essay on the problems I see with the field from the week that I worked in my father's office. I know that I will not come close to making what I made in the last 3 years for another 10 years, at least. I know I could have chosen 1 million less stressful paths, but I did not. I made my decision, and I need to see where it takes me. I feel like I've jumped in feet first to a pool of ice-cold water. It takes a long time to adjust, but at some point it will feel comfortable.

I can't thank my friends and family enough for their encouragement and support. I talk my mom's ear off every single day about my concerns (which is also the primary reason that I had such huge phone bills and gave T-Mobile the boot. Yay for number portability!)

I've also heard my fair share of discouragement. Some people have been zealous with comments about the difficulties of getting in, the horrors of med school, etc. I do appreciate your openness and concern. But to be honest, I don't really need it right now. I'm fully aware of the dangers of my choices.

Too many 'what ifs' and not enough 'if nots'. Make Jack a Dull Boy. Red Rum!

tar-jay

Nothing like a day spent shuttling between Costco and Target in a Volvo station wagon. I doubt there is anything that can make a single person feel more lonely than spending time in an everyday-low-price superstore (EDLP, an actual term used by retail analysts, for those trivial-pursuiters out there). I'm sure my parents were disheartened that it was their 24-year old daughter contemplating whether to buy the Halloween Oreos with orange filling, rather than their non-existent grandchild.

It wasn't really that depressing though. How can you not love shopping at Target?! That place is so amazing. You can convince yourself of your need for any item that you come across. My dad bought an electric flosser. I treated myself to a super-absorbent hair towel. Each individual item is so inexpensive that you feel you are being quite frugal. And then when you check out, it is virtually impossible to comprehend how everything adds up to over $200.

They are building a Wal-Mart next door to the Target, and it should open sometime next year. Mind you this is in the same complex as Costco. It may be too much for me to handle. It is not an exaggeration to say that I go to Costco every time I am home. My parents go once a week, at least. It has gotten to the point that when we need milk at home, we do not go to the grocery store that is 5 minutes away. We head over to Costco. And our Volvo station-wagon? Newly purchased, with the express consideration of moving significant amounts of cargo from the nirvana of bulk shopping.

On the way home, we passed a man holding up a sandwich board advertising a new "Christian Operated Pest Control Service!"

Well, there's a doozy for you. First, I feel really bad for the people who have to hold up sandwich boards. I'm sure I sound overly saccharine in the Miss-America-I-Want-World-Peace sort of way, but whatever. That job sucks. It's one thing to be doing it on the streets of New York City. This poor man had to hold this sign up on the shoulder of a relatively busy intersection in the suburbs. That has to be taxing. I wish him a better job.

Second (and much more appropriate for directed sarcasm), a Christian Operated Pest Service? Are they better than non-Christian services? I guess a Muslim operated one would be a little too "Hey! Look at me!" a propos the Patriot Act. What kind of services would this Christian company offer? Baptism before fumigation? Little confession booths for the ants? Oh no, I'm laughing out loud at the mental image I've provided for myself. If you haven't figured it out yet, I am the type of person who laughs at my own (often unfunny) jokes, before I can even say the punchline.

Apologies if I've managed to offend any Christians. Don't worry though, we're all people of the book .... People of the book, join hands!