At Least I'm Informative When I Blabber?

I’ve reached the point in the semester now where I’m in the homestretch. Technically, I have only two more weeks of classes as of this very moment, and I could not be more relieved. You reach a point late in the semester where every project and prelim seems to collapse into the same two weeks (and since you’ve been studying so hard for last night’s pchem exam, when you write the word “collapse” all you can think is “collapse of the wavepacket”.) I am right in the middle of those two weeks, but somehow having pchem out of the way makes me feel much further than halfway. Hence, it has been nearly a month, and I have a breather right now, so I am writing.

Also, I realized when I got multiple “I miss you” texts from home on the same day that I have, from the perspective of the west coast, dropped off the face of the Earth. So what has been going on? Oh, so much.

A communal kitchen is kind of like a breeding ground of passive aggressive behavior. Due to my unfortunately keen hearing, I heard a girl bawling her eyes out a couple of weeks ago. I assumed it was a boy issue or something to that effect. However, when I went into the kitchen later I saw a new message on the whiteboard: “To whoever ate my pizza: you are so MEAN. I come home after a really long day and all I wanted to do was enjoy my leftovers. You literally made me cry. PS: who steals someone else’s leftovers?” Here are a few other (admittedly somewhat paraphrased) examples:
-To whoever stole my glass mugs: could you put them back? I’m thirsty L Thanks! –Andrew
-To whoever stole my Chinese food: I hope you DIE from eating all that MSG. (Complete with drawings of flames.)
-WHOEVER’S DISHES THESE ARE PLEASE PUT THEM AWAY. I AM TIRED OF RECLEANING THEM AND YOU ARE MAKING THIS KITCHEN UNUSABLE. PS: FRUIT FLIES ARE GROSS.

Another joy of communal living is the communal bathroom. As a girl, I have had no problems with this (except for the broken toilet seat... but it was crack when we got here and was replaced within an appropriate amount of time), but apparently for the boys it is a different study. Currently Schuyler (my building) is having a design-the-Schuyler-T-shirt challenge. [Last year’s winner was to take the popular “Ithaca is Gorges” and adapt it to “Schuyler is Where?” It was quite successful.] Accordingly there are posters around with pictures of people wearing T-shirts that say YOUR DESIGN HERE. Fed up with his bathroom problems, someone graffiti-ed the poster in the elevator: “Schuyler: We can’t aim our #1s OR #2s”, which promptly received a “got my vote!”, a “mine too!” and a “mine three.”

My most recently completed group project was to model the breakdown of ethanol in a simplified version of the human body. While the model’s iterations are somewhat unrealistic (reaching a steady-state BAC takes over 100 iterations on a one drink per hour basis, and the steady-state assumption can only be made due to constant urination) I have a way of estimating a person’s BAC. A now appropriate conversation would be: “Are you sure you can drive?” “Have Gina run it through the spreadsheet.”
An interesting thing about group projects is how someone almost always ends up the leader, and how that someone almost always ends up being me. I volunteered to make the spreadsheet for this project because I was slow at making spreadsheets and wanted to improve, and suddenly they were calling me “our great leader” [Yeah, like what the North Koreans call Kim Jong Il.] I suppose I don’t mind being the leader, but it’s weird how it always happens that way.

My other group project is to design a new treatment for small-cell lung cancer, which is kind of a crazy thing to ask of people who have never taken above high-school biology. I think our group has come up with a pretty interesting idea, though. Small cell lung cancer cells have an opiate binding site that is not present on normal lung cells. After a 24 hour exposure, methadone will bind to these binding sites irreversibly, and stop tumor growth. Our idea, then, is to take a less addictive isomer of methadone (methadone is the drug they use to wean people off of heroine…), and attach it to an antibody. The methadone will bind to the cancer cells and stop them from growing. Then the antibody will trigger an immune response so that the body will attack the cancer cells. A big potential problem with this is its effects in immuno-compromised patients. Obviously, we won’t actually be making the drug, but it has been really cool researching it and talking to my professor.
The prospect of making treatments for cancer was kind of the reason that I got into engineering and chemical engineering in the first place. About a week into this project, I wasn’t really as interested in it as I thought I would be and was considering shifting my focus to consumer products or something. (I went to an information session for Procter and Gamble, where I learned that deodorant is surprisingly complex chemically, and has a much wider customer base than cancer medications. It’s also less depressing.) Now, though, I feel like my interest in cancer meds is rejuvenated. Having the professor I have, who’s research specialty is cancer and who was willing to talk to my group about this project for a full hour, has allowed me to learn a lot about cancer and how new treatments work that I would never have learned any other way, and I am extremely grateful. I’m going to see about working in his lab next summer.

Speaking of next summer… I just realized that I may not have mentioned here previously my plans for Co-op (and inadvertently the rest of college [a Co-op is like a long internship, lasting a semester and a summer]) and I should probably do that so you don’t get mad at me for never coming home again… So here is what my life looks like for the next… while.

Thanksgiving: visit Joe in NYC
December 14^th: fly home for Christmas, hanging out, learning Java, and applying for Co-ops
January 7^th: fly back to NYC
January 10^th-18^th: Go to Dublin(!) with Orchestra
Spring: Semester in Ithaca
(no idea what’s happening for Spring break)
Summer: Do research and take fall semester classes (most likely not coming home in between… Don’t hate me Riley!)
Fall: Co-op somewhere
Spring: Semester in Ithaca
Summer: Back at Co-op Company
Senior Year in Ithaca

…and then I’m done with college.

So that’s my life in a nutshell… I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving (and birthday. Just ordered your gift!) and that life as a TA continues to be fabulously hectic.

See you in less than a month!

Lola

Time is a Thing of the Past

I feel like so much has happened since I last filled you in on my life. This is partially because it has been over a month (O.O) and partially because I am so freaking busy. Alright, it's not that bad, but sometimes it sure feels like it. Shall we discuss this last week as an example? Yes, of course we shall. I'm the one typing, ergo I have all the control here. (Side note: Shelby requested I stop using the word ergo. What a foolish girl to pass up a perfectly wonderful word.)

Over the course of this week, I have had two exams, proctored another, and then graded midterms for nine hours straight with my fellow TAs. On top of that, the Introductory Programming Laboratory where I help people as a TA has been completely overflowing. Throughout the week there have been 5-6 bat signals, which are only sent out when there is over a 45 minute wait in the IPL. Previous to this week, we've had one cry for help sent out the entire quarter. I am just thankful I get to work in a place that sends out bat signals. Apparently the CS homework this week has students freaking out and confused to the point where they are regressing to levels previously not thought possible. I don't think I've seen more blank stares in my life when asking what I thought was a straightforward question. Usually, "can you bring up the class website?" elicits some sort of action based response, but this week all I get is a deer-in-the-headlights hesitation. The lack of coherent thoughts from all around has made this week last much longer than usual. Are we sure there are only five school days in a week?

Not all of this filled schedule is schoolwork oriented though. I am happy to report that I am no longer a complete social recluse. I have been doing social activities with other semi-normal students and making friends with all the other TAs. My friend-base has easily tripled this quarter and it's weirding me out a little bit to have this much interaction with people. In addition to having somewhat of a social life, I have started my own version of NaNoWriMo again. I don't know if you remember, but last year I wrote a song/poem thing every day in November in an attempt to make myself a better writer. I have decided that this must happen again and already am slightly regretting this decision. Though at least I am not doing actual NaNo and attempting to write a novel. That would result in a magical novel written with invisible ink. Obviously, it would be an amazing book but only those who truly believed could see it. Also, I ignored the pain in my wallet and bought a smartphone recently. Then I proceeded to discover the free games section of the android market. Whoever thought this would be a good idea for a college student should have rethought that hypothesis. Why are games like Angry Birds so darn addictive? I feel like it is at least partially the catchy theme songs.

And I wish I were kidding when I told you that I only really stop to breathe when my ballet teacher reminds me to. Several times in dance class lately, I have only realized that breathing should be a thing I do when my teacher verbally prompts me. I feel a little bit like a walking dumb blonde joke but then I remember that my hair is still a lack-luster brownish color. If I must have the stereotypical blonde symptoms, then I should at least get to have the most fun as well. And bouncy Marilyn Monroe esque hair.

Being this busy does have it's drawbacks though. My immune system must not be functioning on a top notch level because on Wednesday, my sickness level went from zero to sixty in 3.5 hours. Mid-afternoon I was perfectly healthy and by dinner I had a fever and uncontrollable shaking. Of course this was the day before my physics exam, but I'm a super-trooper and I carry on. But I only managed to rouse myself after sleeping for over twelve hours straight.

Also, apparently what goes around does indeed come around. My silence on here and to my friends in other mediums has manifested into actual silence. My voice has left me and seems like it never wants to come back. You know how much I talk, hum, sing, make strange noises, etc. This forced vow of silence is slowly eating away at my will to live. Right now I've got the few poorly recorded random tracks on my computer of me singing on repeat, just to reassure myself that I haven't always sounded like a 50 year old chain smoker. At least, that is what I sound like when a comprehensible noise manages to come out of my throat.

Hopefully I'll be back to normal in no time. After all, another week is about to start. That means classes, physics labs, helping poor lost CS students and of course gospel choir. How am I supposed to belt about Jesus when I sound like a person with a bag of gravel where their voice box is supposed to be? Well, maybe my teacher will mistake crazed with passionate. They aren't that far off, right? We're just lucky this is a blog and not a podcast; I don't think you would appreciate the guest appearance of the least talented tibetan throat singer.

I hope you are doing well and enjoying the fall weather before winter fully takes hold!

Much love,
Riley

A Burning Question: Over-analyzing at its Finest

Why would a guy follow me to the bathroom?

Today I will ponder this question, because it is still really bothering me, and I thought you would be able to give me some more perspective on the situation if I explained it fully.

The scenario: It’s after physics lecture. I am walking down the stairs. Said guy (who I suppose I ought to point out is my friend) is walking behind me, talking to some other people. After physics lecture both of us have lab.

At the bottom of the stairs there are three main options: 1) go straight to exit the building. 2) go right to go down more stairs and go to lab. And 3) turn left, after which there are two options: a) turn left to go to the boys’ bathroom or b) turn right to go to the girls’ bathroom (or the drinking fountain, which is right before the girls’ bathroom.)

At the bottom of the stairs I choose option 3b, and the people said guy is walking with choose option 1.

Said guy now has, in my mind 3 reasonable choices. The first is to choose option 2 and go to lab (where he has to be in 10 minutes anyway.) The second is to choose option 3a, since he is a boy and boys are allowed to go to the boys’ bathroom. The third is to choose option 3b and stop at the drinking fountain before reaching the girls’ bathroom.

However, said guy made a choice that does not fit into the three reasonable choices I came up with. Said guy chose option 3b and walked past the drinking fountain. Now I never would have known he was there if I wasn’t in the habit of looking behind me as I go through doors. As I entered the girls’ bathroom we made eye contact and he was clearly facing the opposite direction of the drinking fountain. Here’s a diagram describing the situation:

said guy ---> direction of said guy’s body

eye contact of awkwardness

drinking fountain of innocence me

girls’ bathroom of sweet relief

So I must ask: Why was he there? And in that position? Here are the possibilities I came up with.
1) He forgot where lab was.
2) He forgot where the boys’ bathroom was.
3) He was headed for the drinking fountain and overshot it, then realized it after we made eye contact.
4) He was following me, which prompts a few sub-scenarios.
a) He thought I was going some cool way to get to lab that he didn’t know about.
b) He was following me while trying to get my attention in some way, but I did not hear him, then as we made eye contact my thoughts were “why did he follow me to the bathroom?” and his thoughts were “why is she ignoring me?”
c) He was actually following me. In the creepy stalker sense of the word.

While I fully understand the implications of assuming (that I’ll make an ass out of u and me) I am going to venture an assumption here. Since we have been here for over a year and have been taking classes in this building for more than half of that time, I believe it is reasonable to assume said guy is familiar with the building. This for the most part rules out possibilities 1, 2, 3, and 4a, unless he did something spacey.

I have chosen to rule out 4b as well, since I have pretty good hearing and I was able to hear him clearly the moment before said guy parted ways with his friends. (Also 4b makes me look really horrible in his eyes, since I would have been blatantly ignoring him, then making eye contact just as I went into forbidden territory, then thinking he is a creeper when he was actually doing something totally innocent.)

As you can see, this leaves me with only 4c, an unsatisfying possibility since it is the one that does not answer the eternal question: why would a guy follow me to the bathroom? 4c is a non-answer answer. It would be like if I asked “why is the sky blue?” and you replied “because it looks blue.”

Here are some responses I’ve gotten when I’ve told people about this situation (giving them minimal context):

Joe: Weird…
Me: Yeah, and I feel like I can’t ask him about it ‘cause it would make things awkward…
Joe: Wait he’s your friend? That’s creepy.
(I’m still not sure why it would be less creepy if said guy wasn’t my friend…)

Riley (or you, since this is kind of addressed to Riley): He was contemplating particle physics!

Niko: That’s creepy…
Me: It wasn’t all that creepy at the time
Niko: How was that not creepy!? Do you have stalkerholm syndrome? *+10 pun points!*

Tanvi: Awkward…

Mom: That’s bizarre!

So now there are a few things I can do. Forget it ever happened, ask said guy about it, or passive aggressively show him this analysis and see if he feels the need to explain himself… Thoughts? Suggestions? Faults in my logic? I really can’t figure this out on my own.

Much love,

Lola

PS: Sorry for breaking the usual back-and-forth rhythm, but I feel that we should make some sort of burning question exception.

When Gina Tries to be Informative and it Ends Up Being Boring

I realize my last blog post was not at all informative about my college life, and I decided this post should make up for it a bit. Unfortunately, I have a quiz tomorrow (for which I should be studying) and have decided to write a post instead. Therefore, in order to feel slightly productive, this post will contain a few things you may not have been expecting and have no particular need to read: all twenty amino acids including their 3-letter codes and their 1-letter codes, the Michaelis-Menten derivation, and anything else I decide to jot down.

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The parts you can ignore will be bracketed like this.
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I am going to Dublin! I have apparently forgotten to mention this to some people, so it needed to be said. I’m going with the orchestra January 11-18, and we will be playing Tchaik 5. (Really, though, who cares what we’re playing? Excuse for travel=awesomeness!)

On a somewhat related note, I am not currently playing in orchestra. Some of the wind players are doing a rotation system, and for the rest of the semester I am in wind ensemble. This sucks. Wind ensemble is not really a good venue for the bassoon. There are too many excessively loud instruments, so basically the only thing I’m ever told is “I could use about three times as much of you there” when increasing volume even slightly sacrifices tone. The fact that I am even bothered by sacrificing tone also makes me not fit in with the majority of the players in the group. They are used to playing “new music” which to me translates to “the modern interpretation of classical music where weirdness is valued over tone, pitch, and anything that actually sounds pleasant.” A director should never say, “you’re not trying to sound nice here.” You should always be trying to sound nice, otherwise why play? In short: the music is in general easy (read: boring), unpleasant, and since I cannot be heard I may as well not even be there.

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The Amino Acids

Alanine Ala A
Arginine Arg R
Asparagine Asn N
Aspartic Acid Asp D
Cysteine Cys C
Glutamine Gln Q
Glutamic Acid Glu E
Glycine Gly G
Histidine His H
Isoleucine Ile I
Leucine Leu L
Lycine Lyc K
Methionine Met M
Phenylalanine Phe F
Proline Pro P
Serine Ser S
Threonine Thr T
Tryptophan Trp W
Tyrosine Tyr Y
Valine Val V

I GOT 100% ON MY DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS PRELIM! AAAAHHHHHH YEAH! *Dances* I don’t really have much to add to that. I am math god hear me roar.

I GOT AN 86 ON MY P-CHEM PRELIM! AAAAAHHHHHHHH YEAH! *Dances* This is super exciting since P-Chem exams tend to have means in the 50s (or lower. I’m not sure what the mean on this test actually was, but P-Chem has notoriously low means.) It’s also really exciting because I studied really really hard for this test and it paid off. Apparently, I “understand” some quantum mechanics. (If you’ve ever studied any quantum mechanics you know why that is in quotes.)

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The Michaelis-Menten Derivation
will not show up here due to formatting! But here are the assumptions:

Steady-State Approximation, Well-Mixed Assumption, and the time rate of the enzyme-substrate compound is zero.

This past weekend was fall break, which gave me an excuse to cook delicious things and not leave my building for three days. I made chicken Cordon Bleu, broccoli, roasted potatoes, sweet potato fries, legit mac ‘n’ cheese, an omelet, a crepe, a PB&J, popcorn, and lots of tea. Fall break also gave me the chance to get quite a bit of work done and also watch quite a bit of TV. It ended up being in the upper seventies all weekend, and if I had felt inclined to go outside I’m sure it would have been lovely. (I know how lame that sounds. Honestly I am the world’s biggest homebody. When people complain about the weather, I’m like “why don’t you just not go out in it…?”)

I’m kind of out of things to say. The first round of prelims is over now, but I’ve spent the last three weeks just studying and doing homework. I am down to 7 states, and have been for a while, for license plate bingo. (Idaho, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Dakota, Oklahoma, and Tennessee) I hope your first few weeks of school have been fantastic! And remember: gram-negative cells have a double-layer cell wall composed of 30% lipids!

Eye'm Restless

So school has officially turned me into a crazy person; I have a twitch. Seriously, my eyelid has been non-stop tweaking ever since I got out of ballet around noon. Just to show how annoying this has been for me, I am going to let you know every single time my eye twitches while writing this note. *twitch*

*twitch* It has been an eventful few days back. I've plunged right into my TA duties and it has been wonderful. Basically, *twitch* all of the TAs are amazing people. I think that the prerequisites for being hired are you must be nerdy, awkward, and hilarious. During our ice breaker question, one of the guys said that even though he had been searching for a reason for 20 minutes and come up with nothing, if he could be any person or thing, he would be asparagus. And I feel so legit *twitch* now that I have access to all the secret meetings, computer labs, supply rooms, free food, and copy machines(with colored *twitch* paper!). Not to brag or anything, but I also have my own mailbox. I don't care that there will never actually be mail in it, I *twitch* have one. Plus, one of the meeting spaces is ridiculously pretty. We use it around 6:00 when the sun is starting to go down and it is on the sixth floor of the cs building with huge windows. So much *twitch* awesome.

Hand in hand with TA-ing, I taught my first section today. Even though half the students went to the wrong room because it was changed recently, it went decently well. I made *twitch* them do the typical ice breaker questions and bribed them with candy, like all the other TAs. And then I proceeded *twitch* *twitch* to attempt to teach programming with chalk and a blackboard. If I were half as good at writing quickly and legibly on a blackboard as my Italian Calc TA was, this would have been fine. I may have to go practice my chalk technique, cause it could use a lot of work.

My other classes have been going well. Even *twitch* when I noticed the depressingly low amount of females in the classes I'm taking. Seriously, what is it with most girls and upper level math/science classes? I guess *twitch* *twitch* the 15 other girls in my math 308 class and *twitch* I will just have to rep our gender that much harder. The classes themselves look doable though. I'm being taught about linear systems by a lovely Eastern European (possibly Russian) woman and physics by a plethora of online homework websites. I'm also making friends with a planner for the first time in my life. Organization... who knew?

Now I'm left dealing with this twitch. I had it when I taught my first section, I had it walking around my campus, *twitch* I had it while meeting with the awesome cs people I will be spending so much time with, and I had it the entire miserable bus ride home. Staring out the window, feeling like a loser with a tweaky, twitchy eye and just wishing the hour *twitch* commute could go by faster. The only upside is that you can't really see it. Well, you can, but only if you stare at my left eye and wait for a tiny movement. But after freaking out when it first happened, and then dealing *twitch* with it all day, I told my mother who proceeded to let me know that she gets this frequently. Here I thought I was just slowly suffering from a weird stroke, or school had actually caused me to go fully insane. Apparently when I'm *twitch* overly stressed out, or tired, or possibly because my one good eye is overworked and needs to tweak out a bit, I will get this oh-so-attractive twitch. Thanks mom, you could really take this *twitch* crappy piece of genetics back. Seriously, I'd be fine without it.

I must bid you adieu for now, and go try and sleep my eye back to normalcy. That is, *twitch* after I do one of the many physics homework assignments I have this week. I hope all of your midterms went well.

Much *twitch* love,
Riley

*twitch*

Edit: I just dug out my glasses and the twitching stopped. Silly Riley.

Scarred for Life

Some days there is a general theme that runs in every conversation you have. Sometimes it is about how nerdy your life has become, or how things are different from how they were when you were at home. Today, it was things that I still hate because of traumatic childhood experiences. In order, the things that occurred to me I hate were: the song Greensleeves, spinach ravioli (and all cooked spinach, for that matter), the YMCA, and Battleship.

Unlike some of the other things on the aforementioned list, I am unable to pinpoint the exact moment when I began hating the song Greensleeves. (For those of you who are thinking “well then you didn’t have a traumatic childhood experience about it then!” I must inform you that the reason for the confusion is that there are multiple traumatic experiences, so I humbly request you quit your neener neenering. [Yes, neener neenering is a verb. How dare you look it up!? You don’t trust me!?]) I am quite positive that in my early days of piano lessons I was forced to play the song Greensleeves. The odd thing about trying to play songs you know by heart on piano (or bassoon or anything else for that matter) is that you are (a) unable to play at a slower “practicing” tempo and (b) trying very hard to learn the song by ear rather than read the music. The result of this is that you never learn the song properly, so you never improve, never pass the song, and must play it week after week at your lesson. Some part of me is under the impression that I was stuck on Greensleeves for multiple months (though this probably wasn’t the case) and thus I hate it out of mere overexposure.

Secondly, I believe I had a toy (some mechanical keychain type thing) that played the most horrific electronic version of Greensleeves. I liked the toy, however, because it would sometimes play the song “Henry the VIII I am” which somehow had a catchy and upbeat sound to it despite the electronic obnoxiousness. Unfortunately, I believe it played Greensleeves much, much more frequently than Henry the VIII I am, so I was forced once again to listen to copious amounts of the dreaded song.

I am unsure whether the parody of Greensleeves I am somewhat familiar with was created by my brother and me in a juvenile state or whether we heard it on a silly songs tape (yes, a tape), but this parody further associates the song Greensleeves with unpleasantness. (Though I appreciate its effort to explain why the song is called “Greensleeves”.) It went something like:
“Alas, my love, you are looking bad,
It must have been those old peas you had.”
Although I don’t remember any other lines, a vivid image of a woman wearing old English style voluminous white sleeves vomiting green chunky pea vomit is seared into my brain.

Lastly, although this is not a traumatic experience, I further hate the song Greensleeves because of its annoying quality of making people forget how it ends. If you get it stuck in your head, you will be in an infinite loop of two eerily similar, repetitive, and unpleasant musical chunks (that’s a technical term) for all eternity.

I’m sure you’ve come across things in your life that make you go “oh my gosh that is such a good idea!” which then disappoint you in practice. Two such things for me are spinach ravioli and potato salad. (Potato salad is an enigma. I like every individual component, but somehow when all mixed together it becomes a disappointing glop of yuck.) Spinach ravioli seemed to me like a great idea. Pasta? Awesome. Cheese? Heavenly. Spinach? Healthy. Could this magical dinner be a way to consume cheesy delicious pasta and be able to tell myself how healthy I’m being regardless of the quantity of butter involved in the creation of the sauce? I had high hopes for spinach ravioli. Accordingly, when I ate it I kept chewing and chewing it, gagging, pleading with my body to allow me to stop convulsing like a cat with a hairball and just swallow the cheesy pasta-ey awesomeness. I couldn’t though. My mom finally told me to spit it out after watching my twitching, the only physical manifestation of the battle between my brain and my taste-buds, for probably a full minute. To this day I very rarely even try anything with cooked spinach in it. (Fortunately this incident caused no aversion to either cheese or pasta, and I continue to enjoy these foods mightily.)

My hatred of the YMCA and my hatred of Battleship arise from the same unfortunate and miserable incident. This incident defined the day it occurred as arguably the worst day of my life. In elementary school, Joe and I would have to stay after school at the YMCA for a few hours a couple of days a week until our parents got off work. We already hated it because it was boring and full of obnoxious people, but this day while I was in third grade set it at or near the top of the list of things I hate. I was playing Battleship with a friend, and I had to use the restroom. I politely asked a YMCA staff member if I could use the restroom, to which they replied, “You can’t use the restroom until more girls have to go.” Alright. Fine. I don’t have to go that badly anyway. A few minutes later another girl has to go to the bathroom, and we went and asked again, and they replied once again, “You can’t use the restroom until more girls have to go.” Okay. Whatever. I’ve already been holding it for ten minutes but I feel okay. I’ll hold it. I waited, playing Battleship, listening toward the direction of the staff member begging for another girl to ask if she could go to the restroom. It never happened. I sat. Waiting. Crossing my legs. Fidgeting. Until it got to the point where I couldn’t even move anymore. If I moved I was going to wet my pants. If I moved a cascading waterfall of urine would shoot out of me in front of everyone subjected to the awfuls of the YMCA. I was frozen. No other girls had to go to the bathroom. I waited. My face turned red. My Battleship buddy asked me if I was okay. I said I was. I started crying. No other girls had to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop moving. If I moved I was going to wet my pants. If I did not move and go to the bathroom I was going to wet my pants. I could not move and go to the bathroom. I was going to wet my pants. I wet my pants. Sobbing. Red-faced. Losing at Battleship. Are you okay? Yes I’m fine. Sitting in own urine for indeterminate period of time. Starting to get cold. Switch to a dry chair and push the wet chair in as far as it will go. Trying awkwardly to pretend like my pants aren’t wet. They are. I’m crying. It’s uncomfortable. Then a staff member comes to supervise our Battleship playing and tries to sit down. On the wet chair. The wet chair is pulled out from underneath the desk. It’s in the light. You can see that the chair is wet. Oh my god. “How did this chair get wet?” … “I don’t know.” … “Hey, Gina, weren’t you sitting in that chair.” … … Sobbing. “Why didn’t you tell us you had to go to the bathroom!?”

ARE YOU EFFING SHITTING ME YOU ASSHOLE? I TOLD YOU TWICE! I SAT HERE SOBBING WHILE I PLAYED BATTLESHIP FOR HALF AN HOUR! WHAT KIND OF POLICY IS “YOU CAN’T GO TO THE BATHROOM UNTIL YOUR PEE CYCLES ARE SYNCED?” THE FUCK, MAN! IT’S NOT MY FAULT I WET MY PANTS I’M EIGHT AND I’M VERY GOOD AT FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS EVEN IF THOSE DIRECTIONS SUCK AND ARE BASED UPON EXTREMELY FLAWED LOGIC AND OUTDATED CONCEPTS OF GIRLS TRAVELLING TO THE BATHROOM IN GROUPS. I hate the YMCA. I hate Battleship. I don’t understand girls who go to the bathroom in groups. No, I will not synchronize my pee cycle with you.

I realize this post had pretty much nothing to do with college, but I hope it was entertaining nonetheless. Good luck to you (and any other UWers) headed off to school this week. Think of me, and how I’ve already had two midterms, as you read through syllabi and buy textbooks. Have a wonderful, challenging, and well worth it quarter.

Much love,
Lola

Waiting Is A Thing I Do

So I've been reluctant to post here simply because I have nothing to tell you. While you are off going to classes and generally having collegiate adventures, I've been engaged in the end of summer activities. For me this has mainly included sitting and eating, but since this project encourages communication of the daily stuff, I'll besiege you with some highlights since we last spoke.

Firstly, I got a haircut. It's not a ton shorter, but I got a bunch of layers put in. Prior to this my haircut schedule was to find a place that will chop off your hair if you donate it, get that blunt cut in the chin to shoulders range, wait two to three years, repeat. However, this time I had a coupon for a free haircut so my cheap self was willing to do something different. And though it errs on the side of emo girl haircut with too many short layers on top and too few longer pieces, I'm starting to get used to, and like, it. Plus, hey, it was free.

Secondly, I was house sitting recently. It was for my mom's friend who had a daughter getting married down in California. The wedding was a four day affair with wine tasting, rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding in Sonoma County. Apparently it was very beautiful, very over the top fancy, and pretty entertaining. At least according to my mom. The actual house sitting I did was uneventful, though it provided a pretty place to spend my time. I sat around a house that belongs in a price range I won't be able to afford for quite a long time, if ever. It has a gorgeous view of Seattle and is beautifully furnished, but the four days I spent there would be boring to hear about. The most interesting thing I did was figure out how to work TiVo. That, and the small adventure of driving to and from this house. I guess I hadn't driven on the freeway for long stretches of time in a while (or at least not south through the Bellevue area). Were other drivers always so eager to touch my car?

Thirdly, I had an early rehearsal with the Gospel Choir. This year we're singing at one of the football games, so after receiving an email requesting my presence, I showed up at school a week and a half early to learn how to sing Africa. Yes, that song Africa. Unbeknownst to me and my cohort An, we'd be two of the seven altos who actually showed up. Regardless, it was entertaining and held up with last quarter's level of awesome I've come to expect from choir rehearsals. The instructor is your typical no nonsense old black woman who seems like she has been running that class for 45 years. And the lack of attendance didn't change a thing. I'm sure with her at the piano helm we'll be singing Africa with at least a semblance of all the doos, doots and dance moves for the UW stadium in October.

And lastly, I have been watching the new fall TV shows (SPOILERS). Monday night I sat down and watched the season premier of How I Met Your Mother, which to my surprise was a whole hour. It continued to be as awesome as the rest of that show is, though I'm frustrated they're playing with who Barney is supposedly marrying. I like Nora and I thought she'd be good for him, but if they want to keep people guessing with whether or not the bride is actually Robin, fine. It is their show. I also watched Two Broke Girls, which is a new show and I was pleasantly surprised. I only watched it because I didn't have the remote, nor anything better to be doing, but even though it was slightly contrived it got a few good giggles out of me. As did Raising Hope, which is another of those shows I watch circumstantially. My mom actually really likes that show and has been known to laugh out loud at the corny jokes in it. The only real disappointment I have come across so far is the highly looked forward to show New Girl. I was so excited for it, partially because I have a huge crush on Zooey Deschanel, and partially because... no wait, that was the main reason. Anyways, I was very underwhelmed by the pilot. It's one of those shows I think could get good, but it resembled a kid's movie in that the commercials held all of the funny bits. Also, it is a little far fetched how dorky they make Deschanel's character. Nerdy, unaware of how pretty she is, awkward, those things are all fine, but just completely lacking self-presence so far is not okay. So those are all the new shows I've been watching, and I have no idea if I'll continue to watch them once I jump back into school and lose all my free time. The only thing I can guarantee I'll continue watching is Doctor Who. Which this sixth season I've enjoyed though the rest of the internet seems to disagree with me. Also, I'm sorry if you didn't understand a word I was saying throughout this paragraph.

So that has been my life lately. Now you can see why I haven't been posting. I mean, it took 22 days for this much to accumulate. And that is just sad. Fear not my friend, next week I'll be plunging back into University and starting my job as a TA. I'm sure hilarity will ensue from my teaching misadventures, especially since I'm pretty sure I will be younger than all of my students. Get excited for that. I miss you dearly and hope you are having fun as New York turns to autumn. And of course keep your eye out for Santa again before he heads back to the North Pole to get ready for the holiday season. Give him my love if you chance encounter him again.

Love you,

Riley

My Sanity for a Wink

While I thought my last post was lacking in my old notes' usual sparkle, I believe this one more than makes up for it.

Ithaca gives off a small/college town feel. The city population is only around 30,000 (slightly smaller than Bothell). Cornell even has a vet school and an ice cream shop: trademarks of schools in rural/cow-infested areas. While most of the people I encounter are college students, a venture to the Ithaca mall shows the locals true colors: the kind of people who wear camouflage and trucker hats, the kind of people who knit, hipsters, or the kind of people who may or may not be homeless. Considering this, it was surprising for me to discover what an excellent environment I am in for the play of license plate bingo. Just on my walks from my dorm to west campus (roughly five blocks) I have seen (I think) license plates from at least the following places: New York, New Jersey, Alberta, New Hampshire, Vermont, Alabama, Texas, Ohio, California, Montana, South Carolina, Kentucky, Tennessee, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Maryland, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and my personal favorite: Alaska. To whomever drove here all the way from Alaska: you have some serious cojones, and I salute you.

As I mentioned, the people of Ithaca are an eclectic bunch. Living in a place full of eclectic people gives rise to an eclectic array of style choices. While many Cornellians go the classy “I go to an Ivy League institution and even though I walk miles up and down hills every day I am going to buy the cutest goddamn flats I can buy” route, the weather here leads to some discrepancies between what is attractive and what is practical. While half the year you don a puffy snow coat and boots, we are currently in the two months of the year when it is warm. An added bonus to these warm months is the occasional torrential rain. You know Ithaca is a place doomed to fashion faux pas, since at times wearing shorts with your rain boots is the most sensible clothing option. Unfortunately for the Ithacans who care about their appearance, the brand of weird caused by the shifting weather has yet to catch on in Paris and New York.

As a chemical engineer in training, I get to take all sorts of fun sounding classes. This you are well aware of, but what you may not have been aware of is the difficulty that is sometimes inherent in the shortening of these class names. While I can easily call differential equations “math” or “diff EQ”, shortening the class name “mass and energy balances” poses a more significant challenge. Should I call it M&E? No, that’s too close to E&M, which we use to shorten the physics class electricity and magnetism. Balances? Possibly, but balances is already a word in its own right, a verb in fact, and if I heard someone say balances I would say, “who balances what?” No, I know I can do better. Ah, yes, let’s try a spoof of the professor’s name, like my friend Sam who calls principles of biomolecular engineering with professor Varner the Chronicles of Varnia. The professor’s name: Susan Daniel. At first glance, a boring name. Not much to work with at all. However, upon closer inspection, it becomes evident that taking the first syllable from each of her names results in an excellent class nickname: Sudan. Clear availability for puns (i.e. I’m having so much trouble in Sudan), high potential for head-turns when discussing it (did you hear those people saying they hate Sudan? Did something happen there again?), and all this while still being a word I don’t use often enough to find confusing. Mission accomplished.

Few things are more satisfying in life than when you set a goal, or even just have a vague hope of something coming true, and having that goal or hope come to fruition. Last fall, I often sat next to a kid named Brian during math lecture since we both had a fondness for second row slightly to the left seats. We had talked occasionally, and I knew Brian was also a fellow chemE. It would probably be beneficial to you for me to mention that Brian is one of those people who you assume to be gay without bothering to ask. About a month after school started, I was still lacking in the friendship department (it takes a while) and I sent a pleading text to my brother: “how do you turn a sassy gay acquaintance into a sassy gay friend!?” I do not actually remember Joe’s response, but I still remember sending that text. This year, the chemE curriculum is becoming pretty standard for everyone in the major, so, naturally, I see Brian everywhere. Furthermore, I believe I have officially turned a sassy gay acquaintance into a sassy gay friend because Brian and I now have inside jokes. These include Brian’s aspirations of Olympic speed-walking (a goal he could reasonably achieve, since he walks at the speed of light), and his past as a child figure-skating prodigy (he’s actually the president of the figure skating club. Perhaps I should have mentioned that as further justification for the Brian-is-gay assumption). New friends: what a lovely thing.

Today was a day just like any other. I woke up a ridiculous amount of time before my alarm was set to go off (6:45 when the alarm was set for 7:30), showered, dressed in the most Ithaca-weather appropriate clothing I could find, and headed off to a leisurely breakfast before my 9:05 class. After viewing the license plates of many a state for a few blocks, I see a man a ways ahead of me. He is an older man, tall, with a bit of a paunch, and he is wearing a red polo shirt, to contrast with his long, white, and puffy hair and beard. As I passed him, we smiled at one another, and with his beautiful, blue, twinkling left eye he winked at me.
I know what you’re thinking: that if I wasn’t so incredibly awesome at describing things you would say I was severely overreacting to the wink of a creepy old man. I therefore must inform you that I do not believe this old man to be creepy because I am thoroughly, completely, and utterly convinced that he was Santa.
Do not try to tell me Santa isn’t real. Like you, I once believed the lies about how my parents made him up, but upon seeing him and receiving that so perfectly Santa-like wink, I know, without a doubt, that Santa is real and that he summers in Ithaca.
Contrary to popular media/Hallmark depiction of Santa summering in places full of beaches and palm trees, I believe it is much more likely that Santa spends his summers in a place like Ithaca. For a man accustomed to constant below-zero temperatures, a day at the beach in 95 degree weather would be tantamount to torture. Any sane person, especially one unused to the heat, would sweat a fair amount, but, knowing what we do about Santa’s body type and quantity of facial hair, we can safely assume that he would be sweating more than a fair amount: a lot more. In addition, I believe cool, refreshing treats like popsicles would be unable to satisfy the palette of a man who consumes cookies at the house of every child in the world in one night. Popsicles just don’t do it for cookie lovers, they don’t contain enough butter. Also, jumping in the water would be of minimal relief to our jolly fellow, since the water (at least in Hawaii) is still at an average of somewhere near 80 degrees in the summer. If people really understood Santa, they would know he would have a much better time in Ithaca, where the warmest it got in August this year was 89 degrees, and it still managed to drop to a comfortable 65 overnight.
In conclusion, I learned a few things about Santa today: he is real, vacations in Ithaca, is rather tall, has lost a significant amount of weight since the last time he was portrayed, and when he winks at you it instantly makes your day while simultaneously causing you to feel all of the magic of Christmas.

I hope you are enjoying yourself in the Hundred Acre Woodinville!

Much love,
Lola

Luck of the Draw

While you have been off getting busier and busier, I have been whiling away lazy summer hours. It's to the point where I'd almost appreciate even one of your levels of list-ception. I'm that bored. Although, today I have been realizing that the ever looming presence of school is getting quite close. I doubt I'll have as deathly of an experience than you seem to be having, but just in case I underestimate, you are also in charge of the inappropriate funeral music. Even if you have to DJ post-mortem.

I'm glad you've settled in a bit. And high ceilings are the best. Sounds like you've got a great set-up. Not just with your lodgings, but your studies as well. Puppy TAs, Schrodinger references and hilarious videos must outweigh temporarily forgetting everything you've learned. Right?

The stories will come soon enough, and until they do, I have the story of my day to entertain you. I woke up lazily around 9:30 with absolutely no plans. I figured I would spend my time on the computer or walking around or something, but it was safe to assume that this day would be like any other I've been having lately: spent generally at home with myself for company. Instead, my sister happened to be home, which meant that I had a running buddy. After my first run in a very long time, I found out that there was a YouTube gathering happening later that afternoon in Seattle and I was completely free to go. A quick hop in the shower later and my sister requested my company helping her buy her new laptop. Although, I simply stood there and nodded whenever she looked at me, I assume I was some help because she is now the proud owner of her new Macbook Pro.

A short while later I found myself on a bus going through my favorite part of Seattle heading to a gathering of people I have come to know and fangirl over on my computer screen. When I first walked in the room, I had to do some double takes as I realized I was actually in the same room as youraverageadam, thatzak, owlssayhooot, banananeil, and many other awesome people. Once we were finished standing around awkwardly talking to each other, I headed home and had the pleasure of explaining to my mother exactly what a YouTube gathering meant. I wasn't aware how difficult it would be to get across that internet people sometimes meet IRL and although we are socially awkward, we try to work around it.

And so with the day that I had planned to do nothing with, I ended up running, helping to purchase expensive items, meeting people previously thought to only reside on the internet, and am now watching Sherlock Holmes which was starting the instant I turned on the television. And all of these things happened in a timely manner as if I had planned them days in advance. Oh, we also got the absolute perfect parking spot in Seattle. When does that happen? It's been that lucky of a day.

Now I shall leave you so I may finish my movie, which by the way, has such awesome language in it. When I hear a sentence like: "does your depravity know no bounds?" I wonder why we don't speak like that all the time. I hope you find the time to post soon, I would love to hear more about your college adventures. And I hope you are doing well.

Much love,

Riley

Oh boy!

Three days in classes and the madness has already begun. Firstly, my list of homework and other things to do can no longer be retained in my poor little brain, so I have a list of homework, a list of reading, a list of "other stuff to do" and a list of things to buy at Target. (Now I have a list of things that I have lists for... aw snap.) Secondly, here they apparently do not account for the I-forgot-everything-I-learned-last-year-over-summer-especially-math inevitability. (A serious lack of foresight and/or compassion on their part.) The first physics problem set is nine pages of fairly extensive multivariable calculus review, and we haven't even covered any material in class yet.

On a related note, I have already told Niko I am going to die this semester, so I might as well let you know: I am going to die this semester. The culprit will be physical chemistry (physical chemistry, with the giant book of scary equations, at Cornell). You and my dearest brother are in charge of playing wildly inappropriate music at my funeral. Suggestions include but are not limited to: Just Dance, The Chicken Dance, A Spoonful of Sugar, My Girlfriend Who Lives in Canada, and If I Only Had a Brain.

On an unrelated note, my room is about 9 by 11, which seems to be an excellent size for just me. It has ridiculously high ceilings (for that spacious vibe.) My suspicion that I overreacted about my housing placement was confirmed. So what if I don't have a dining hall in my building and have to walk four extra blocks? I'm away from the craziness that makes me (even more) tired.

MY MATH TA IS LIKE A PUPPY. He no speak good Engrish but unlike all of the other math TA's I've had who are too quiet to understand and just talk at you for an entire class, he has a game plan of practice problems and really encourages collaboration on said problems. I realize this doesn't make him sound very puppy-like, but he's like a puppy because he is adorable in that puppy way.

Not many good stories yet... but we watched this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8QWlp68908 in math. (Focus on the "but in liquid Prell, it drifts... looks so luxurious..." We're writing differential equations about that stupid marble. Yeah, science...) Also, I don't know if I mentioned this, but on the front of my quantum mechanics book, there is a kitty, and on the back, there is a picture of (what I thought) was that kitty sleeping. Turns out the back is a picture of a dead kitty. Once you get beyond the morbidity of seeing a dead cat on the back of your textbook, you realize they're making a Schrodinger's cat reference and it's actually very funny. Teehee.

Hope you're well!

Lola