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.

Social Guy

Usually on Friday nights, back in my life in the big Apple, I would NEVER stay home. I'd have dinner with Bwoy, change at his place, and go out on the town. Bwoy would usually not come, since he would have studying to do. So I'd call up Social Guy and see what was up.

Social Guy ALWAYS had something planned. With him, we would hit a couple of parties at bars where either my friend's cousin's boyfriend's roommate's sister was having a party or Social Guy's friend's roommate's girlfriend's sister was having a party. Some combination of that. Of course Social Guy would have less degrees of separation than I would-- I mean, duh, I named him Social Guy.

And these weren't just average parties with stuggling artists selling T-shirts and smoking up at some hole in the wall apartment, or dive bars with $2 beer specials. These were at pricey bars where the minimum drink was $15-25, mermaids swam around in giant fishtanks (no... seriously), bottles of champagne and wine were ordered, and women and waitresses walked around half-naked but with designer materials covering up their boobies so that they could be deemed "classy." Of course, to be fair, I knew some of the throwers of the party. But to be more fair, Social Guy knew more.

The funny thing about Social Guy is he wasn't cool in college. Or in high school. Or in middle school. Or in elementary school. Okay, maybe elementary school, what do 5-yr olds know anyway? I mean, I was cool in elementary school because I let pple eat my PBJ sandwiches. (Hmm, if only life were so simple now). Social Guy only became cool after college. That was something that initially went against my reason. I always assumed that after you "entered the real world" (as my parents and professors and college president would menacingly say during graduation), life pretty much went downhill socially. Apparently for grad students it does- and I can say that since I'm now a grad student. But for NON-grad students, it's the best! And there is so much more opportunity to be social. And I can say that since I spent a couple of years being a non-grad student.

So what's the point of this meaningless post? If anyone actually reads this and you are:
a) in college
b) not in college, but at some mind numbing, money sucking graduate school
c) lost in the "real world"
d) obsessed with being cool

don't worry:
a) Life is soooo much nicer once your head is out of the books.
b) It's never too late to be comfortable in your skin.

That's pretty much what happened with Social Guy. He grew into his own skin (a little late, but what the hell).

=)

Bwoy is coming to visit me this wknd! Bwoy is coming to visit me this wknd!

Lalalala!

*NP does a little dance in her underwear this morning as she brushes her teeth*



Update:

Stupid rain. Bwoy's flight may not come after all.
*NP sheds a few tears. Weekends suck.*

Update 2:

Bwoy is coming! Bwoy is coming! At 2am, but what the hell.
*NP resumes dance in her underwear as she brushes her teeth at night*

Change of profession

I've been in Chicago for more than a week and made a total of 2 friends. One of whom includes my roommate. Is that normal?

This new place where I work is TINY (but prestigious); I guess that's why I picked it: individual attention, addressing people's needs, etc. It turned out to be quite accurate. Still. There is a thing as too tiny. There are a handful of people my age, most of whom seem very unsocial. I end up talking to this dude who complains about how pple are unsocial; we bitch together, and then I end up wondering how he ever got to work in this place since he is such a party animal. Seriously. I feel bad for him; he ends up talking to the secretaries to find people who actually respond to his attempts at conversation.

For my part, however, this is sort of what I expected. I was never looking forward to it, but surprisingly I've shrugged off my social life in NY more easily than I expected for this more nomadic life. Surprise! If you haven't guessed by now, I'm now a graduate student. Boo. No more of The Office. Now I can bitch about The Lab. And The Institute. *rubbing hands with glee* Oh what good times we'll have=)

My Big Move, Part I

The day I flew off to Chicago, I kept my eyes closed during the entire flight. I heard the gasps, excited whispers as the plane dipped low enough somewhere in north Illinois and the lovely sheen of Lake Michigan shimmered below the airplane windows. No, I telepathically told my eyes firmly, you will not open. The last vision they had seen was the pulsating lights of New York fading into the distance.

And like a clam, I did not open for the first few days. Instead, I moped in my new apartment, downloading old pictures from my camera to my computer, reliving those magical days in a place I thought was home. My Friday nights were spent in my room alone, and my memory would drift out east to each and every Friday I was out drinking, dancing, or snuggling with my boyfriend in New York City.

That’s what pained me the most. His absence. After the chaotic last weeks spent packing, feeling important as friends and family clamored and clattered around my leaving, quiet had descended. There is nothing like the aftermath of a crash, the calm breeze streaming into a previously violent scene that pinpoints a question. Where is the noise? Where is the energy? Where is that one voice you want to fill the silence with? It turns out that voice was his. The only voice I would rather hear.

But moving to a new city is exciting, all my friends exclaimed. Older people would nod and sagely tell me that this is the time to explore my life. Eventually, I incorporated these words. Before stepping onto the plane to Chicago, I would tell my lamenting friends that I was excited to start my new life. I would comfort my tearful parents, patting them like little dogs and explaining patiently that I was young, and now is the best time to try a new city. Like trying a new flavor of ice cream. Easy, quick, and wouldn’t it be so sweet? All I needed to do was pack my six suitcases, and fly off into the distance. New flavor, new city, new life.

All this excitement evaporated when I realized there was nowhere to put it. I was in the middle of a strange place in Chicago. No car, no bike, no internet, no TV. Just me, my suitcases, and a small wooden room. I unpacked quickly, filling my room with items I brought from New York. There-- my tie-dyed bedspread, my wooden vases from India, my little trinkets and ornaments I hung around the room. It helped, a little. The first night, after sweating through a couple of intense hours of unpacking, I sat down to survey the results. Quiet descended again. But I was too tired to listen for anything. Maybe that is the best way to fight this, I thought drowsily, falling into my pink and green bedspread. Keep myself insanely busy.

Moving to a new city

I moved! Away from my family, friends, and Bwoy. I miss everyone. I am lonely. I am lost, and confused about pretty much everything. I even cried today after I was done unpacking. Mostly because I am back to walking everywhere, nervous about starting classes (after being in the luxurious corporate world for a while), and being totally confused about what I did with my internet.

And did I mention I have no car in an otherwise suburban area? Things are so far away, I'll be spending at least an hour a day simply walking. Maybe it's time to get one of those "listen to a book" options. Or at least start listening to music again. I guess things will be alright. I think I'll walk about 10 minutes to the nearest Whole Foods for now and buy some food. That always makes me feel better.

Vegetarianism

Today is a sad day for me. I have to give up meat. Well, except fish. And sometimes chicken. But it still counts, right? The reason is because I have high cholesterol. Why? Why? I run, I am pretty thin, I generally steer clear of overstuffing myself with fried food. And I LOVE food. Absolutely adore eating it, cooking it, smelling it, looking at it, reading about it, watching other people make it on the Food Network. Did I mention I adore eating it?

*grumble*

Stupid genes.







(bobrost.com/soupmines)



Update:

I couldn't do it. I'm back to eating meat. =P

Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna

I saw the movie last night with a friend of mine who was actually a production assistant on set. We drove all the way out to Long Island to see the movie! And then sat through 3.5 hours of it. As the closing credits came onscreen (and we both yelped when we saw her name on the credits), I realized I liked the movie. I mean, the movie was actually about infidelity- they actually make Bollywood movies on infidelity?? Not only that, the ending was unexpected. In short, it actually made me think. Which pretty much never happens when I watch a typical Bollywood movie that my parents bring home from the local Indian grocery store.

***spoiler alert below***

The movie is about two married couples, both with somewhat unhappy marriages. Each couple has its loser half and its winner half.
Dev and Rhea: Rhea is a succesful editor (winner), Dev is an injured soccer player who ends up becoming a little league soccer coach/housedad (loser) .
Rishi and Maya: Rishi is a succesful businessman (winner) and Maya is a frigid school teacher (loser).

The winners (the editor and businessman) love their loser spouses, but the losers (the soccer coach and teacher) don't love them back- and don't even seem to love themselves. In the movie, the losers Dev and Maya meet each other and fall in love amid a lot of guilt. As Dev later says, it just happens and they end up making each other's incomplete lives complete. He also says that love is a lot of times about circumstance.

**********

Anyway, Dev's words of wisdom are pretty much why I liked the movie.

I liked the idea that two incomplete people, at loss with the world and at loss with themselves, could meet and somehow fulfill the emptiness in each other's lives. I like that two unlikeable characters, unpopular and morose, could find peace in each other. The director didn't really make the two characters out to be super likeable- they were dull, full of flaws, cynical. Except with each other of course. That's a beautiful thought. Sometimes one gets sick of hearing about the ideal of successful pple finding love. What about the losers? They deserve love as well.

I also like the idea that love is about circumstance. That is so true. People fall in love at different stages in their life. I bet if these two characters had met at a time in their life when they were happy, they may not have fallen in love.

And finally, I like the idea that the movie portrayed marriage as a work in progress. It takes hard work. And it's never perfect. And I guess, neither is love.