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Chicks, more chicks, honors societies, blood cultures, science conferences

2006-03-16 - 9:49 p.m.

I have eased back into finding regular sleep quickly and quietly. The old man next door yells into his phone: hospital, people going to hell, random chaos. He's wanted by the police, and periodically slips out to stay with some chick whose name has three letters. I read it on his door in quickly scrawled notes. My landlord was curious if I had any noise complaints.

I find the situation entertaining. No complaints.

* * *

So Hill told me recently that she was never physically attracted to me. Not out of spite, just a fact. This didn't bother me at all, actually; I'm secure about my looks. It did lead to a thoughtful talk about some bits of our interactions I was confused on.

The only indirect disappointment is the loss of physical touch. I respect that she feels 'weird' about it; that desire is a dimmer-switch I can adjust. Still, I'd misunderstood back in the day, when we decided dating was a no-go. I'd thought she still wanted to occasionally snuggle when we watched a movie, or the way I'd sometimes run my fingers through her hair. That and I have a message or two about playing my cards right and still getting to 'make out' or something.

Things change. And I think I know why. I miss it, but it's fine.

* * *

On the forefront of picking up chicks, I've been occasionally dabbling. This past sunday I studied with Mel over at Barriques. We ended up talking about our programs and lives for a few hours before slogging through course work. Turns out she's actually a single mom, kinda like Colleen. Kinda unlike Colleen, however, she gets child support and is financial stable. I'm myself indifferent to the kid factor: not an attractor, not a detractor. After we'd mostly finished and she had to leave, I asked if she wanted to hang out sometime. Now the reply and the use of the word "definetely" is mixed. "Definetely" is actually like "nice" that way. Either way, though, I'm equally amenable to finding additional friends around here as much as anything.

For a couple days there also seemed to be an interesting prospect. I'd gotten to talking with our closet goth post-doc about stats (as she is the guru), then about her boots, and eventually about finding people in Madison. She thinks the Inferno is my best bet. I always did like the goth/industrial scene and many of the people in it. It was around that time she started talking about a friend of hers. Red hair, artistic, fringe-y. Sounded interesting. I said I'd like to meet her. And about a month from now I'm going to go out with the post-doc to check this out.

Major problem, however. She sent me a picture including said prospect. Ok, I'm just curious if y'all think the following too or if I'm smoking crack. Does the chick in black look like a man?:

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Now if it were the woman in the red corset--sure, I'd meet her. But the other one, uh...I'm thinking I'm gonna cancel on that plan. I'm a superficial fuck maybe, but just no. Fuck and no. There is nothing "pretty hot" about that one, ms. post-doc.

The saga continues.

* * *

Today was a regional meeting for an honor society I'm a board member for. People drove in from places. Two people from national headquarters flew in. I walked 5 minutes to the conference building. It was through lots of snow, but meh. I'd decided to dress it up some: the only jeans that fit me, my boots, a shiny grey dress shirt, and the sports coat Hill wants to set on fire.

Steve Case casual would have been my joke if it came up.

Now, I was expecting a big ass meeting meeting, and most of our board to be there. The whole event had really been built up over several mass e-mails.

But who actually showed up? Just me and the secretary. Not the faculty president, not the faculty, and sure as hell no other students. I suddenly felt very young and just a teensy awkward. Me, with all of one board meeting under my belt, representing the host school of a regional event.

Permit me: Sweet Lawd Jesus honey.

The point of the meeting: to figure out ways to increase the number of people accepting membership. Apparently, our success rate is 20%. So 80% of people who qualify for being indoctrinated don't accept. I still can't believe it. It's, like, resume fodder. You pay 90 bucks so that employers can think you're hot shit. I mean dude, what the fuck is wrong with these students?

So I had some opinions on that end, asked if any national or school-based surveys had been done to analyze the problem--thoughtful stuff. I also explained my, ah, role on the board. Here people assumed I was the student VP or something. But I got away with being honest, even if it sounded like I did a lot more than I currently do.

Lunch was fabulous. It was a buffet 200 yards away. Always a plus when it's snowing 8 inches outside. They had this turkey served with mushrooms that was outstanding. I was also tempted to get some coconut pie, but I think I've gained 3-5 pounds in the last month--so it's back to caloric restriction again.

The lunch talking mostly consisted of me describing my research. I guess that's just what you ask grad students. I could tell Cathy from nationals wasn't too happy about what I do with monkeys, but the others seemed interested. Actually by the end I'd become the conversational gabby one and kept people entertained. I'm good at those older people styles of joking. You know, slightly clever but not too clever.

The meeting was ending early after lunch, and I had to run to the lab, so I said bye and all that. I got some neat swag, had a random conversation with the youngest faculty woman about my TAing stuff (not sure why she asked, but hey), and left. The secretary was just coming back from outside. She was extremely thankful I was there and kept things together. I could tell she was as surprised as I was about, uh, no one else showing up.

So I felt good about that the rest of the day.

The lab, however, was mostly ass. Today was harvesting blood and plasma from stimulated cell cultures. I had to use sterile Iron Crane Dance technique. This consisted of two hours of very, very carefully transferring shit into other shit, spinning shit down, then sucking up shit to put it in deep freeze. Gabe supervised, which was at once reassuring and nerve-racking. I fucked up the first sample and accidentally spilled it out. I got about half the blood off from in the steel fume hood. Thankfully it was from a 'don't do anything to this one' control well.

There were some other slight problems, but like Gabe said it just takes practice. I also hadn't brough my lab notebook on account of, well, fuck, I didn't want to wear my backpack today just 'cause. She suggested I should keep it at the lab for a reason not worth mentioning. And some other good natured stuff. It's always good natured until you repeat it. Hopefully I won't.

* * *

I'm also nearly done applying for more money (yup, again) and trying to get into an NIMH conference. I figure I stand a good shot at both.

Oh, which reminds me: I found out that my submission to the top research conference in my field got accepted. And it got accepted as an oral presentation. And it's the flagship presentation for the 'stress and immunity' sub-section of talks. I didn't know this, but I was competing with other grad students, post docs, and profs. Pretty fucking unexpected.

So I guess the reviewers liked it.

They better like it enough to give me a travel award to give the talk or else, er, I won't be able to. It would be kinda fucked up to get this kind of honor and then have them be like, "yeah, um, no money for you." And really: why go to the trouble of making up a presentation schedule when people may not be able to show up?

* * *

So this is the tail-end of my spring break. I wish I could get a neck massage.

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