Someone keeps cranking up the resistance...

Seriously. I'm on a treadmill, and as I adjust to each setting, someone cranks it up even higher. I had the WORST problem set EVER that was due today, and I had to give a 10 minute presentation on light scattering as it was used in a scientific article today. Before 9 AM.

And I was told - after the fact, of course - that my topic wasn't so great. I ran the topic and the article by the prof weeks ago. I can't go into the math and craziness in 10 minutes, AND teach everyone light scattering, AND explain the article, AND talk about how light scattering works in the article. WTF. Grad school is such bullshit.

It's been ~90 F for the last few days which has been really nasty because the apartment is on the top floor of the building with 3 large windows with southern exposure. The inside temp hasn't fallen below 85 F, even at night. We haven't been cooking much, which makes me kind of sad.

In other news, I'll be going up to NY to celebrate my grandma's 80th birthday in the form of a BBQ this weekend. I am looking forward to that. I also just rocked a sushi buffet for lunch, a small celebration because I finished my HW and that stupid presentation today. Now I want a nap. I will not get one, though. Instead, I'm going to make myself more plates so I can do more experiments this week. Yay. Then - to the gym with me!

Things I want but probably don't really need.

It's sunny today! Really honest-to-goodness sunny. This is nice, seeing as it's been miserable, rainy, and in the 40's the last few days. Actually, the fact that it was in the 40's was good, because it made me want soup, which resulted in a spicy coconut curry veggie soup that rescued 3 beets, the remainder of the chicken soup from my seder, 7/8ths of a completely wrinkly, dehydrated, small head of cabbage, and quite possibly my body from a veggie-less hell of my own making. I am midway through a gargantuan Passover recipe compilation on the other blog. Lord help me finish it. The soup will follow.

Anyway, with the sunshine came my annual hopefulness that THIS is the year I will find The Summer Dress. What is The Summer Dress (henceforth to be known as TSD)? TSD is that elusive item of clothing that I can vamp up with heels, dress down in flats, put a cardigan over, wear under a trenchcoat, and is in a nice print. This should be easy given the fact that stores are pretty much giving clothes away. It isn't.

I keep thinking, "Oh, hey, maybe I'll find a light white cottony thing" (because it is my secret wish to wear one with a huge straw hat and crazy shoes to a garden party) and every time I try on something it looks like absolute hell on my body. You'd think this wouldn't happen, seeing as I'm used to myself in white; fencing uniforms are white jackets, protective white knickers, and white knee socks. Truth be told, I'm not even sure most of the time what body parts are throwing off the fit! It's the most frustrating thing ever.

I put the dress on, squint at myself, take off my socks, squint again, start at the bottom, decide it's too short, wonder how my butt can look so spectacularly hydraulic in a pencil skirt and look so sad, huge, and awful in this dress, how my boobs somehow look nonexistant because the straps place the bust too low on my chest, why did they cut the waist in the wrong place, and Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ on rollerskates, how can this all look so bad simultaneously??!?!?! Then I get back into my underwear, and while the view isn't perfect, it's what I remembered my body looking like from before I tried the offending garment on.

Then I contemplate nudity as a lifestyle.

I tried to go to Macy's the other day in a bid for Estee Lauder mascara (my mom got some in a gift, gave it to me, and now, damn it all, I can't tolerate drugstore mascara - but that's mainly because they don't stock Max Factor in stupid fucking MARYLAND), and to cruise the spring dresses, but the mall was closed for Easter Sunday. This is what I get for moving from NY where there are enough Jews to have things open on Christian holidays and enough Christians to run the show when the Jews are out. Damn the south. Damn the dresses. And damn not having mascara.

I ended up at DSW, and found 2 pairs of sandals (both in size 11!!) for ~$20 each on clearance. Maybe this weekend will look up in my bid for mascara and springtime versatility.

Phshshshhshshshshhhhhh....

That is the sound of me decompressing.

Thursday night drained me hardcore. I'm planning on a huge Passover seder post for the other blog (the food one), but I haven't been able to think about it yet without recurring feelings of panic. Instead, I spent this weekend being all low-key and shizz...

Saturday involved a nice 2-hr workout fencing and a very lovely afternoon at the local pub sitting in a dark booth and shooting the shit. We always end up dropping SO MUCH effing money there, but the food is really good and the drink is, too. I edited stuff for my adviser that night and got to bed early for a Saturday. Today, I went trolling for bargains at DSW, and found some very cool sandals in a size 11 (US) for an acceptable amount of money (~$20) which never happens.

Part of me is very sad that I don't work in a profession that allows me to exercise my full appreciation for beautiful shoes in a variety of heel heights and designs. Science labwork tends to make flats absolutely necessary because you're on your feet the whole day. 3 inch heels? No thanks, but I'll stare longingly after them as they're taken away. (I saw beautiful snake print wedges, where the wedge was carved into this beautiful sculptural design so it wasn't clunky at all, but they were at least 4 inches high. Very very beautiful, dramatic, etc.... and totally impractical. Sigh.)

Then we went to our friends' house for an Easter celebration. TONS of food and wine, pleasant company, and it suddenly dawned on me why intercultural relationships might be discouraged. You end up celebrating everyone's holidays, so you eat like a total pig twice as many days and you doom yourself to getting madd crazy fat.

Yeah. That's my deep thought for today. I drowned the rest of them in the wonderful Diana's sangria.

Ugh. Monday is tomorrow.

Candidacy: Seder

Another fine mess, indeed.  

Somehow I am in the position of hosting a seder at Danny's and my apartment for his whole family.  I also have an exam that promises to be no picnic at 8 AM.  

I am actually less worried about the exam than I am about the seder.  They are a judgmental lot.  I'm no slouch in the kitchen department, but holy fuck, people.  THE PRESSURE.  It's like candidacy again, just this time in holiday planning.  Fucking fuckers who fuck.  Thus far I've resisted the urge to throw up (which has passed over me periodically during the last 2-3 days).

I have a menu and a game plan (which includes finding kosher for Passover vodka to medicate myself), but this is really not cool.  I can't sleeeeeeeep.  Ugh.  Which bodes ill for this exam.  Hopefully I'll tire myself out in the next, oh I don't know, 15 minutes?

Right...

Piles.

This is a typical exchange between Danny and myself on the wisdom of piles. He lost a very important recipe I need for Thursday (imminent death by having his relations over for Passover; I am so fucked, and by fucked I mean I will be judged and villified) because HE REMOVED IT FROM A PILE.

Danny: ok

still have to find that recipe that I misplaced

12:53 PM will do tonight

me: you stinky stinker

Danny: yeah, I know

I confess

it's somewhere

me: next time, you have to leave the piles.

embrace the piles

Danny: yeah yeah

no!

me: accept the piles

Danny: I will not eat the piles

me: welcoem the piles into your life

Danny: no!

no piles!

me: the piles are your friends

build them

nurture them

Danny:: your hypnosis isn't working on me

12:54 PM me: and then you'll never lose papers ever again

Danny: I'm immune

me: why?

because they'll always be somewhere in the piles!

it's sheer brilliance.

Danny: yeah, and they'll always be somewhere not in piles

and easier to find to boot!

so there

me: that's bc you MOVED it

out of the pile

Danny: yeah, whatever

me: and now you can't find it.

Danny: I put it in a very logical and organized place

me: and now we're all going to DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Danny: I just don't recall the logic

haha

12:55 PM me: clearly. so logical and organized even you can't find it.

Danny: yup

I outsmarted myself

me: very logical

Danny: I do that a lot

me: how brilliant

Danny: I know

me: this iswhy you have a phd

Danny: yup

me: to lose my shizzz

Danny:: lol

okok

I get it

I'll find it tonight

me: which would otherwise be found. naturally. in a pile.

Danny: lol it certainly narrows it down

12:56 PM me: that it does

Danny: where is X?

in a pile, of course

me: and there are 3 main piles

Danny: which pile, and where in that pile, are whole other questions

right

clothes, desk, and misc

me: my fencing/shoe pile, my desk pile, or my clothes pile.

Danny: haha

I nailed it

wait!

what about your car pile?

12:57 PM the pile in your car?

you forgot that one

me: my car doesn't HAVE A PILE.

Danny: not yet

but it will

just wait

anyway, while you're building your car pile, I'm gonna go find something else to eat

I'll call you later, k?

12:58 PM me: you are so full of CRAP

Danny: lol

yeah yeah... you know its true

me: do not refer to my nonexistant car pile until it exists.

it's nearly beena year

and guess what?

NO CAR PILE

so thbbtthbthtbhtbthtbhtb

THTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBT

12:59 PM THTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBTTHTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBTTHTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBTTHTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBTTHTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBTTHTBHTBTHBTHBTHBTHBTHTBHTBTHBTHTBHTBTTHTBHTBTHTBTHTBBT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Danny: eew

now my gchat is covered in spit

thanks

me: I HOPE YOU FELT THAT

good.

you deserve it.

Danny: I'm gonna wipe off my screen and go find something to eat

me: loser

Craziness.

In light of extreme social business, mucking around in lab like it's my job (oh wait... it is my job), trying not to sleep through class, and having to clean up my piles (piles are my way of life; if I had to describe my overarching philosophy on how to live in one word, "piles" would be it), I have sucked it hardcore at blogging.

I have been maintaining my fitness though. I went on vacation in NH, and I snowboarded and x-country skied my way to only gaining like 2 pounds despite eating and drinking like wo'. Kind of exciting. But then, if you x-country ski 8 miles in a day, you have to devote pretty much the remainder of your waking hours to gorging yourself if you want to gain weight, which leaves no time for the hot tub. And you always want time for the hot tub, especially if you've been x-country skiing. You know, every time I go to Waterville Valley, I have a snowboarding revelation. Last time, I took a lesson and the instructor pointed out this little thing I wasn't doing, and I suddenly stopped catching my edge and falling on my face! Very exciting, especially because my face doesn't have the padding my butt has.

This time, I ambled over to their on-mountain board shop, and the snowboard guru Steve said, "Wow, you are riding with a tiny stance for someone of your height. Let me fix that for you." I said, "Ok!" He widened my stance by what might have been inches, and suddenly standing on my snowboard felt as natural as getting en guarde for fencing! The strain on my calves, ankles, and all muscles in that general region disappeared, and I could use my muscley (read: huge) butt and thighs for balance and steering. It was so great to suddenly not suck any more!

(For any interested parties, there will not be any half-pipes or ramps in my future. I will persist in riding like an old lady.)

But anyway, after taking a lot of time off of the gym and fencing, it turned out to not matter at all because I was sliding, riding, and skating over vacation. And I started jumping rope more, which is hard as balls, people. Hard as balls. It is awesome for bounciness for fencing. Oh, and according to this month's Vogue, another of their "shape" issues, this one model Doutzen Krouse jumps rope like a mofo. The author of that article was musing about why, despite NOT being super madd crazy skinny, Ms. Krouse is so popular. Um, maybe because she looks like she won't pass out halfway down the runway? Perhaps because she looks like she could kick ass, but in a beautiful ladylike manner? How about because she looks incredibly healthy?

Duh.

Anyway, the above is a picture of me kicking ass in a not very ladylike manner. I am in the foreground to the right, blurrily charging down the nice lady on the left. Check out my ass. It is huge. It is powerful. It sticks out. J. Lo better watch it, cuz I don't need no implants. I have fencing.

I am living in HELL.

There is a grant proposal due. It is a sizeable one. $2 million. My adviser left it to the last minute, it seems, in true academic fashion. So, I shall backtrack on my lovely evenings.

Last night, I stopped looking at the clock in lab when it hit 10:30 PM. It was too depressing and sad. Why was I there so late? Because I had to proofread 25 single spaced pages. But it wasn't just for grammatical and spelling errors, oh no. It was to also improve the flow, so I couldn't bang through it. I had to read, reread, and figure things out. To say it was not one of my better evenings would be a bit of an understatement. I've been proofreading this damn stupid thing since last week in pieces. A paragraph here, a section there, a 6-page chunk...

This sneak-attack by my adviser of editorial duties destroyed my plans on Friday night, as well as his perception of me. I had no idea I'd be in lab until 8:30, so I had gone to the gym for an hour in the afternoon, ate lunch at my desk, and waited for him to send me things to review. That was at noon-1 PM. 4:30 rolls around and still nothing. I ate a light lunch because I was planning on meeting some people at this supposedly awesome Mexican place for happy hour - which included half-price appetizers... and nothing attracts this grad student like half price allegedly amazing Mexican tapas, tequila, and mezcal.

So, I asked if I could do the editing at home over the weekend. The answer? Absolutely not. This was bad because I was getting hungry. When I get hungry, I get wild-eyed, irritable, and slightly insane. Not conducive to being intelligent or editing, for that matter. Then I finish, I'm about to pack up and leave, when he walks in and asks me to do a literature search. What???!?!! A literature search? That could take days!

But I did it. And as I was getting ready to pack it in yet again, he asks me to add two words to my search. A mournful hopeless "noooooooooooo....!" resounded in my head, echoing around the inside of my skull and resonating in the very empty pit of my stomach which growled menacingly. I had to drag it out of my adviser, what he wanted from this literature search. I was left to my hunger and evil thoughts for 1 minute, and then he walked back in to lecture me on how I disengage too easily, how he knows I'm very social, "do the emailing" (that is a direct quote), "have a nice boy to care for" (another direct quote), how I'm never going to make it in academia if I don't care about what I'm doing because it's so competitive, and it's very obvious I have no personal emotional involvement in what I'm doing, etc etc etc. I managed to resist the urge to let out a primal scream of rage, leap on the lab bench, and start hurling glassware around.

Instead I decided to pretend I wasn't angry and just pass it off as him throwing a hissy fit at me simple because I was the only one around. This worked for about 4 hours, and then I got a splitting headache. I finally got to eat at a quarter to 10 that night, which was awful. I couldn't form a complete thought. The splitting headache lasted all day Saturday, departing for the 2 hours I spent fencing, but then it came back and lasted into Saturday night, when I finally admitted that I was furious and I hated the state of Maryland and DC and the university and academia and it was a damn good thing my idiot adviser thought I'd never make it in academia because I want to get the fuck out anyway and go back to industry where people are pleasant, social, professional, and I get a bloody great paycheck for all my brains and trouble, and I hate it I hate it I hate it.

The headache promptly evaporated, and I realize now that I am doomed to a life of constant bitching and if I don't bitch, it is hazardous to my health. I gave Danny a chance to dump me now, now that he knew, but he declined. I think he secretly finds it amusing.

But sadly, the editing did not go away. Monday was a snowday (more on this later), Tuesday was me sitting like a huge fucking idiot waiting for the editing to start up again, but nothing hit my desk until the early evening, which sucked because I blew my gym time sitting like a moron at my desk because I didn't want my adviser to walk in and not see me there, and it was (technically) 33 pages of single spaced science shit. I really despise scientific writing. I got to sleep at 12:30 last night, and all I did was walk in the door, grumble, take a shower, and go to sleep.

Thank you, grad school, for doing your best to prevent me from ever having anything roughly resembling a sex life ever again or ever seeing my bf awake or him ever seeing me awake again. YOU BLASTED FUCKERS.

Along with grad school, I think DC is in it too, this whole making me miserable by thwarting my every move thing that's been going on. Because a bunch of my friends, Danny, and I had Monday off, we decided to find a happy hour. The bar that we couldn't get to on Friday because of my editing escapades sounded promising, and we hiked out in the cold and wet to find that IT WAS CLOSED ON MONDAYS. W. T. F. But then, we thought our problems were solved when we saw a big sign for half-priced Blegian beer! Turns out - we realized this after we got our check - it wasn't half-priced on Mondays. Only Stella Artois was half-priced on Mondays, but seriously, who'd pay $8 on a normal night for a lousy fucking Stella? Only in DC, people. Only in DC. So I was thwarted again! I was drunk, but thwarted. It inspired me to canvas yelp for happy hours the city over in my downtime between editing, but I can't find anything worthwhile. It's all the same, specials on shit beer (Budweiser, Miller Light), and the same shit for snacks; nachos, fries, quesadillas, burgers, wings. It has been a sad, sad week.

Now I'm sitting here eating a burrito that has too much cheese and not enough beans and salsa. I want a Maker's Mark manhattan (or eight) made by the older bartender with the suspenders who works at Clyde's in VA. I hate everything about that place except that guy and his manhattan. They have heinous "art" on the wall - think a ginormous nude mural, airbrushed to meet today's standards of denying the fact that people have nipples, penises, vaginas, body fat, and the like. It's as if Thomas Kinkade got drunk and started painting nudes. It is SO BAD. Good thing I was drunk when I was there.

Too bad I'm not drunk right now.