One of our technicians at the lab has nothing to do, so my advisor wants me to organize my 2mo. and 4mo. plasma aliquots from my developmental study. The big one. I spent most of today listening to Baroque or Placebo or something inbetween while playing musical chairs with vials of monkey fluid. He's been uncharacteristically urgent about this, so I should segregate 1 LPS and 1 PHA vial from the others that'll be kept frozen for TNF-alpha or maybe some th1/th2 cytokines. I'm mostly glad because this'll give me a chance to see if withdrawal-inducing inflammatory proteins correlate with some of my behaviors. So far I've found some significant differences between the manipulated group and the control group.

Hell, ideally it'd make for a good preliminary paper. One I'd emphatically make sure only my advisor, Gabe, and myself would be on. Cold War ain't gettin' any more authorships than I absolutely have to give the bitch. (where she's ostensibly 'collaborating' with me on this project, which she occasionally thinks of as her own it seems. My current plan of putting her after one of my undergrads as an author is still in effect).

I emailed Erin to see if she wanted to walk around the trails near some of the lakeshore points soon. I figure I'll finally ask her if she's interested or not. If so, I'll take it from there. If not, I'm plenty used to being single--though that would completely sap my local prospects list. I wanted to stay local. Well. With one possible exception. Although who knows on that count. I don't.

Tomorrow? Inferno? Christ, likely. Nothing better to do and I've been eating breakfast lately, so dancing would do me good. It's MWF only breakfast, true, but that's still more calories I don't need. On the other hand I'm keeping up my exercise and work-out regimen decently well. Jogging 2 miles every other day, dancing at least once a week, walking like I usually do.

Slept last night without meds. Oh wait, no, I did take some. This subconscious anxiety thing is annoying. That and it's rare I feel tired nowadays around bed.

The stalking creature has either decided to leave me alone for awhile or I've successfully gotten it to fuck off for some length of time. I haven't bothered sensitizing myself to that realm of reality. Been far too busy dealing with mundane shit. Kinda glad to. It's old, slightly cold, but familiar, like the first snow of winter or marriage after the first few years (or so I'm told/have seen).

And so with my stress effectively now put back onto being a fuckhorse for academia, I'm naturally tempted to break out of the mold some.

I haven't been to the graveyard on ###### St. at night in awhile. I played Bauhaus for the dead last time. This next time I was thinking something silly.

First thought that came to mind: Frank Zappa. How could anyone or anything object to a sterling rendition of 'Uncle Meat', the tongue mix edition? That and it's been entirely too long. One gets to dealing with demonic forces that've effectively stalked one for going on a decade now, the inevitable fights for control over one's own personality as opposed to a different one, and you lose sight of the finer things in metaphysical life. Like being inextricably drawn to graveyards out of curiousity, for instance.

There really isn't an internal WHY to it. I often find the WHY presents itself quite effectively whenever I get there. And being where I'm not supposed to be is my hallmark. Just ask Long Beach Port Authority. Or Nicholas. Or any number of my exes.

Likely I'll just forget or get bored of being bored and stop procrastinating on reading all of these highly complicated articles on blood-oxygen-level dependent neuroimaging. I found Brian playing "Godfather" far more captivating tonight. If I'm struggling to understand the nuances here I can't even imagine what the undergrads are going through.

I am almost entirely self-centered. I am also reasonably introspective to recognize when I'm just typing for the sake of watching myself write.

In conclusion. Conclusion.

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