Ummm....yeah.

I have a friend in the lab who I can never get a good read from. For now I'll call her Mo, since she hasn't told me I could use her real name. She has the appearance of being very prim and proper. She's sort of quiet and reserved, yet will come out and do the funniest things. For instance, one day James and I were sitting around the lab making weird noises. You know, like cracking unusual body parts, whistling through our teeth, pretty much par for the course. Then Mo busted out with the classic spit on your hand, clasp your hands together and make fart noises. That was when we knew she was one of us.

For the holidays she visited her family in the Philippines. She very thoughtfully brought me back a gift that was prefaced with, "We're friends, right?"

"Sure, Mo," I said puzzled. She handed me the gift:

I couldn't figure out what the heck it was. Why was a wooden man hiding in what appeared to be a barrel? Was this some sort of local deity? I tried to pick it up by placing my fingers around the barrel and lifting. Much to my surprise, the barrel was unattached and slid off while I was trying to lift up the figurine.

So it was a prank. A shocking (coming from Mo) and pretty funny one. Wrigley was impressed by the spring action arms and peener.

For No Other Reason Than He Loves Me

Even MIT Girls Get the Blues

I wanted so badly to hate her. An MIT student defending her dissertation in May, she has tenured professors lining up to interview her for a postdoc. She is gorgeous- tall, thin and exotic looking. She is outgoing, excellent at networking with a big welcoming smile. She makes good eye contact. I was positive she wouldn’t remember that day when Dr. Hari made James and me go to lunch with her and her advisor for the simple reason that someone from MIT wanted to have lunch with us.

I was ready for the awkward moment when I pretended not to remember her either so as not to make her embarrassed and somehow we’d have to start all over. But she walked up to me with an unassuming smile, hand outstretched and said, “Hi! I don’t know if you remember but we ate lunch together in this same fair city in March…”

“Of course,” I replied graciously taking her hand, shocked that someone so used to having her butt kissed would remember a forced meal with two students from a university she had probably never heard of.

Our advisors were catching up. A third party walked up to her advisor and asked if he was still at MIT. He looked surprised. “Where else am I going to go when I already work at the best school there is?” Despite the disdain I felt at this scientific brand of royalty, I had to admire his honesty.

That evening, Dr. Hari had already made plans for us to go to dinner with an old friend of his from Italy. It was the friend’s idea to ask the MIT professor and his student along. I had mixed feelings. I wanted to get to know Dr. Hari’s friend better. I wanted to relax a little without the sour (read: jealous) feeling one gets in the presence of someone so obviously better than yourself at the one thing that matters. I wanted at times to be the point of discussion, humbly smiling and shaking my head while Dr. Hari tells the Italian how promising I am. That’s difficult when Ms. Perfect is sitting next to you about to graduate from the best institution in the country.

In the end I decided to make the most of it and engage her in conversation as best I could. “So, what are your plans after graduating? Academia? National lab?” Typical discussion for which every grad student has a typical 10 second response. Since we were a conversation away from our bosses, her response was surprisingly candid. She told me about her skepticism towards academia. She didn’t think she was a good fit. She wanted job security, immediate stability. She didn’t want to move several more times. She wanted to settle down, start a family. She didn’t want to work 12 hours a day, 7 days a week and be dead on her feet with no time of her own. She didn’t need the prestige that would come after spending the best years of her life not enjoying them and instead toiling over tenure, writing proposals while not getting to know her kids. That is, if she were lucky enough to have time to reproduce while she was still able. She was practically in tears. Her advisor didn’t listen; he felt that she could do these things so she should, no matter what her heart was telling her.

I was stunned. She might as well have been reading my mind. We spent the evening pouring out our hearts over sangria. Whispering our thoughts on our advisors pressuring us to break the mold and be female faculty. We agreed on why there are so few female faculty- even MIT students have biological clocks which will win out over clawing our way up the academic ladder. It’s not worth it and we can see that from miles away. I was so relieved that I wasn’t the only one to feel this way. That the smartest women in the world gave up the best opportunities in the world for the same reasons I was contemplating. And that other people’s advisors were similarly unwilling to accept this prospect.

That was the night I had the most fun at the conference. I blushed as thoroughly as a junior high boy when I asked for her contact information. I nonchalantly said something about us women sticking together, especially those of us secure in our decisions not to pursue a tenure track. She seemed truly touched at my thinly veiled attempt to be friends with her. And she accepted.

2006

From the time we are little we learn that growth happens in spurts. I remember wearing the same shoes for a year and then needing new ones, two sizes bigger. Sure, we grow a little each day, but largely physical and mental growth is not a linear function. We never stop growing, and this growth never stops happening in fits and starts.

2006, unlike any other year I can remember, was a growth spurt of a year for me. The changes I have felt within myself have been nothing short of immense. I feel as if an inner eye finally opened widely with clear vision so that I could see what is important, what isn’t worth sweating over, what it means to live, to give, to hurt and to be loved wholly for (or in spite of) who you are.

Losing Randy was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. It showed me how unfair life is, how cruel nature can be. It forced me to face mortality and taught me how to keep people alive through the memories they leave behind. I lost dear friend on January 29^th, 2006. But I also made friends by getting to know his family and the people in his other circles. And I’ll never listen to a tuba the same way again.

On the other hand, getting married was one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced. Even though no one was there to see it, the flood of emotions I felt when Dean stood up before me, the non-denominational minister and possibly God (whoever He or She may be) and swore to love me and honor me no matter what was the best high I have had. On September 9, 2006, we vowed to live our lives together, to love each other come hell or high water, in times of financial distress, emotional distress, in any city we wind up in, no matter how many kitties, bobbleheads, or books. He vowed to accept me and love me despite the volcano of crazies that is constantly threatening to erupt. And I him, even when his team loses and he’s hurtling insults at the TV and the kitties are hiding. It isn’t going to be easy, but something about taking this step makes it more concrete.

Though I joke about being a crazy cat lady and write way too much about my adventures with the dumpster kitties, those mangy fleabags changed me for the better this year as well. What I am about to write to so cliché, but I don’t really care. It feels so good to do something that makes a difference. I realize in the grand scheme of things fixing 13 stray cats isn’t going to change the world. But it has changed their world and my world. It isn’t easy and it isn’t always fun but damn it can be rewarding. And even that puts things in perspective. I love caring for them and I’ve reached a point where I would rather spend my hard earned money feeding and caring for them than buying myself another book I won’t read or a trendy shirt I’ll wear for a couple months. I’m not finally going off the deep end, I’m still relatively presentable and keep Dean well fed. I guess what I’m trying to say is doing good is addictive. It’s a drug I’m glad I discovered this year.

All these things and others have combined to make me grow up this year. I feel a maturity I didn’t possess before. An understanding (not necessarily an acceptance) of the world in a broader sense, and a taste to do more. To live for those who are no longer with us, to help those that cannot help themselves and to know that no matter what all this entails I won’t have to do it alone.

Checking In

Every time I see that it's been a week since I last posted, I think to myself "if I don't write something soon, people are going to stop reading!" Frankly, I've been too busy and then too sick to write much of anything. I had a very busy holiday break in Minneapolis. By the time I arrived back home on Monday I had come down with a stomach virus/food poisoning that is just today starting to subside. Besides causing all the normal discomfort associated with stomach issues (I'll spare you the details) it has completely kicked my ass. I've been sleeping an absurd amount, and even today when I made the leap to solid foods I can think of nothing but closing my eyes and drifting off for just a couple more hours...

This means that today probably won't be the day I finally punch out the deeply reflective post about 2006 and how my life is much different after it. That post has been swimming in my mind but hasn't wholly taken form. By the way, what's the statute of limitations on New Year's posts?

I am taking my time recovering from the holidays (mentally and physically) mostly because I have to be mentally sharp as a tack next week. On Sunday I am off to Baltimore for the 2007 Magnetism and Magnetic Materials conference. I present both Monday and Tuesday. And I'm going by myself to be joined on Tuesday by Dr. Hari. Yep, that's it. Him and me. No one else from the lab. The good part of that is that I'll have my own room at the swanky Marriott Harborside. And I can go to bed at whatever time I want, not to mention plenty of Indian food as long as Dr. Hari has no plans. And if he does? Room service.