Studious Labmate

Here I am, writing in my blog. When really I should be studying or something. Or should I? I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt of simply relaxing, and I've attributed these negative vibes to... one of my Labmates-- we'll call her Studious Labmate.

Turns out Studious Labmate is one of those girls who are anxiety-ridden, frizzy hair, a bit socially awkward ladies with their heads continually in the books. So into the books actually, that she make herself sick (Literally! She gets these colds because she doesn't know how to give her mind and body a break). And she makes me sick (not literally though). Mostly because Studious Labmate is always complaining about how much work she has. Every sentence begins with:

"OMG, Nutty Princess, I have SO much writing to do!"
or
"OMG, Nutty Princess, I was so bad today! I didn't do any writing!"
or
"OMG Nutty Princess, I have a presentation to do on a writing I HAVEN'T EVEN WRITTEN YET! "

And then I purse my lips, raise my eyebrows, and nod in an attempt to ACT LIKE I CARE. The whole time though, I usually edge towards the door. In fact, I've gotten pretty good at acting empathetic and caring while casually humming a song in my head.

Poor Studious Labmate's life revolves around reading and writing. She reads and writes and reads and writes. And she complains and complains and complains. She never goes out, doesn't seem to have friends (but then again, who am I to speak), did not even take me out on my bday, and frantically goes from coffee shop to coffee shop to "read."

She is so into reading that I think she makes herself go nuts. I have determined she is nuts merely by the fact that she complains to me ALL THE TIME although I pointedly do NOT complain to her-- my whole strategy was to NOT complain, be serene, and pray that she get the message and stop her yapping. You know-- do unto others what you'd like done unto yourself. It didn't work. In fact, she's gotten worse! Yikes!



I've thus filed her under the category of "Women I work or live with, but would never want to be like." Why do I end up with people like that ALL the time? Maybe you think I'm being too critical and I think every woman is like that. But I actually did have a labmate (also a roommate) in college who was quite the opposite. She was smart, pretty, kind, social. She was filed under "Perfect Women."

Alter-ego jobs

I love Law and Order. I consider the process of cracking a case like the scientific method. You've got a question, some evidence, and then a methodology. And then boom! You've got a solved case. Well, that's at leasr that's how it looks on Law and Order :P

I would SO love to be a detective if I weren't an... engineer. ;)

The only problem is that I have to be a cop first. And I'd make an awful cop- who would listen to a slight young woman tottering around trying to look important? Also, as a secondary point, I'd rather not risk being shot to death. And finally, to be honest, it makes too little money for me. Now that I think about it, a lot of my alter-ego jobs have similar obstacles to my pursuing them:

These are my other top 3 choices
1. Poet.

- Why? It's hot. And I can jump to slamming, which will make me hipper than thou.

- Why not? No money. And it brings to mind Edgar Allen Poe's tragic death.


2. Pilot.

- Why? Duh. It's called flying.

- Why not? I get motion sickness like a grandma on crack.


3. A Bum.

- Why? I'd be left the hell alone.

- Why not? I'd be left the hell alone.

Maybe I should call it the Zoo

It's been a month. And I have come to 2 conclusions:

1. Engineering grad students are WEIRD. Weird as in antisocial, socially awkward, and really bad dressing skills.

2. Every time Bwoy comes and visits me, and then leaves on a big airplane to go back to NY, it's like someone pulling off a million bandaids off my body. Ouch. His presence is like bandaids. And I mean that in a good way.

Okay, back to point #1. Maybe that's why I have made only 2 friends (one of whom is my roommate). Actually now that I think about it, the second friend is on the verge of aquaintance-dom. Partly because I feel I have scared him with my hyperactivity (sort of in the way people who have been in solitary confinement act when they get out-- you know, eager to see another human being). Where are all the non-dorks in this place? I feel so out of place here. Maybe I should have gone to biz school.

The other day I went to a barbeque with Bwoy (who was visiting me and making my weekend) and we both commented on the awkwardness surrounding us. I felt like I was among lemurs. Lemurs who kept staring at us with these big, forlorn eyes, shy and scared to death. Of what? Chatting with a petite girl like me? They'd sit in chairs, willing themselves to blend into the dull metallic gray seats. Their big lemur eyes would flick from my eyes to the floor to their burgers to my eyes and back to the floor. These lemurs wore shapeless white t-shirts and apparently have never heard of the art of "the good handshake." Shaking hands was a general mix of limp fingers, dead cold fingers, and really wet fingers. And that's only if they ever even woke from their terrorized stupor to even shake hands. Blech.


And to point # 2- I need pointers on how not to miss Bwoy. Especially when he gets on that airplane each time. Bandaids hurt, man. Sigh.