Darwin's Apostle

Something I hate

2007-09-19T07:25:00.001-07:00

I hate bathroom talkers. You know what I'm talking about, the people who go into a stall and want to continue the conversation, which must be rather loud in order to be heard over the plop of their solid waste hitting water. For some reason, they refuse to be embarrassed even when it is difficult to understand their words because they are contorted due to talking and straining at the same time. Gawd.

On a Whim

2007-06-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

Tagged!

2007-06-21T22:32:00.000-07:00

by Liseysmom. It warms my cold black heart. Eight things and eight tags.

1. I have a very large black cat named Ciscoe that I treat like my child.
2. I am militant about computers. I must have a mac or a linux box. I currently have two macs (both work issued) and just bought a surplus computer from the local university on which I will install Debian.
3. I played goalie for years for my high school and club soccer teams. I got my start in the position during grade school because I towered above my teammates. I think that the stiffness in my fingers is due to the multiple sprains and jams over the years.
4. I like soy milk and splenda in my coffee.
5. I’ve read the Lord of the Rings trilogy more times than I can count.
6. I have a tattoo pact.
7. I’m pretty handy around the house. Install tile. Check. Install new windows. Check. Demolition. Oh Check.
8. My first kiss was in 7th grade with a guy I despised, but my desire to kiss someone for the first time overrode my distain.

I tag Belaja. All eight times. Just so we can get her to post again.

An important childhood lesson...

2007-06-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

An umbrella (a la Marry Poppins) doesn't slow the speed of descent from a tall cinder block wall.

It's an internet quiz. It must be correct

2007-06-05T08:26:00.000-07:00

You scored as Scientific Atheist, These guys rule. I'm not one of them myself, although I play one online. They know the rules of debate, the Laws of Thermodynamics, and can explain evolution in fifty words or less. More concerned with how things ARE than how they should be, these are the people who will bring us into the future.

Scientific Atheist

100%

Apathetic Atheist

58%

Angry Atheist

42%

Spiritual Atheist

42%

Agnostic

33%

Militant Atheist

25%

Theist

What kind of atheist are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

Fun with iTunes sorting

2007-05-19T11:04:00.000-07:00

This post idea stolen a long time ago from Every Wrong Move.

First Song: (Antichrist Television Blues) --The Arcade Fire
Last Song: Zither –Doves

First Artist: 50 Foot Wave
Last Artit: ZOX

Shortest Song: One Last "Whoo-hoo!" For The Pullman --Sufjan Stevens (0:06)
Longest Song: Less Than You Think –Wilco (15:04)

First Album Title: A Ghost is Born –Wilco
Last Album Title: Z –My Morning Jacket

Top 5 Played Songs:
I Summon You –Spoon
Anything You Want –Spoon
Twin Cinema –The New Pornographers
This Year –The Mountain Goats
Sister Jack –Spoon

Most Recently Added 5 Songs:
My Body Is A Cage --The Arcade Fire
No Cars Go --The Arcade Fire
Windowstill --The Arcade Fire
(Antichrist Television Blues) --The Arcade Fire
The Well and the Lighthouse –The Arcade Fire

Find “sex” – how many songs show up? 9
Find “death” –how many songs show up? 29
Find “love” – how many songs show up? 90

How many songs? 3061
How many days? 7.8
Number of gigs? 12.09

Currently Listening To: The Oranges Band

How to destroy your indie cred

2007-05-11T18:22:00.000-07:00

1. Listen to "Walk Like an Egyptian" three times in a row on your way home from work.
2. Put it on one more time when you reach home.
3. Dance around the house like, well, an Egyptian.
4. Admit your actions to teh internets.

My depressed feet

2007-05-03T18:23:00.000-07:00

In May of 2000, a friend laid down a challenge for me to run a marathon. I am physically unable to refuse a challenge so I signed up for the St. George Marathon scheduled for Oct of 2000. I started training June, giving me four months to get ready for the marathon. My first run was a three miler that just about killed me. However, it is amazing how your body responds to training and how quickly you can go from struggling with three miles to running 15 miles without any problem.

I was hooked. I loved the way being a runner made me feel. I loved the way that I could eat and eat and still loose weight (a 20 mile training run burns an awful lot of calories). I loved the running community. I continued to run after completing the St. George marathon. I ran the Portland marathon in 2001 and signed up for the Victoria marathon in 2002.

One Saturday, approximately 7 miles into a 14-mile training run, the bottoms of my feet began to hurt. The pain wasn't horrible, but it was the type of pain that suggested that something was really fucked up, so I made a doctors appointment. I was diagnosed with a standard running injury, though my symptoms didn't really match the diagnosis very well, and the doc gave me a bunch of exercises and an icing regime to follow.

The pain didn't go away. It spread and increased in intensity. The doc wasn't very helpful. He thought that I wasn't being rigorous with the exercise and icing schedule and pretty much ignored me when I said that even just walking was becoming extremely difficult.

I put up that attitude for about 6 months and finally switched docs. This one took me seriously. She got me into physical therapy and we started to explore other treatment options. She heard me when I said that my life was shutting down, that the pain that came from walking was becoming debilitating.

Physical therapy didn't help, so we began to explore other options. We considered the possibility that the initial diagnosis was wrong and went in search of other causes. I had two MRIs, several x-rays, and saw multiple doctors. We considered pinched nerves, tumors, autoimmune disease, and other possibilities. I tried multiple drugs including muscle relaxants, neuronton, non-steroidal anti-inflammatories, and prednisone. Nothing helped. The pain just kept increasing.

Now, the past two paragraphs represent 2 years of my life. Simple things were difficult. Things like cooking dinner, going grocery shopping, and doing chores. I didn't go on any vacations because all I would be able to do is sit in the hotel room. I did anything and everything I could to make my life as functional as possible. I found that a particular pair of flip-flops made life a little more bearable, so I never took them off. I even wore them in the shower. For an entire year, I wore them every day except for the two days that it snowed. I felt grateful that I worked in a lab that allowed open-toed shoes. Many labs don't. As a grad student, I was required to teach. I hated teaching sitting down. I wasn't as effective sitting down, so I would just deal with the pain. Sometimes after class I would cry in the bathroom because my feet hurt so much and because I couldn't do something as simple as stand for an hour without great effort.

I didn't realize it, but I was very depressed during that time period. I finally realized that the only thing I ever looked forward to was going to sleep, and that I dreaded getting up.

At my first appointment after this realization, my doc said she had an idea, kind of a last ditch effort and that it might help my depression too. She said that sometimes pain is caused by the mis-firing of pain neurons, and that they can get to the point where they can't turn off. She said that a certain class of drugs, serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, can sometime help. Se prescribed the most common drug of this class, prozac. Rolaids can fuck me because prozac spells relief. Though my feet didn't get completely better, walking and life became bearable again.

Fast forward to Feb of this year. I had been on prozac from ~2 years. Although my feet still bothered me, I was living a normal life again. I was able to participate in activities I would have never considered during the dark years. I had joined a rowing club and started rowing crew! In Feb, I decided to try life without prozac. I hoped that my depression and the pain would stay away, even without the drugs. Besides the side-effects were getting to me. Climaxing during sex required a lot of, um, concentration. My sex-drive was also limited and I hated prozac burps. If you have ever taken prozac, you know what I mean.

It has been two months since I went off of prozac. My feet have not regressed and I haven't slipped back into depression. Also! The big O is no longer a monumental effort and I actually have a sex drive.

I think that I have accepted the possibility that my feet will always bother me. However, news articles and tv shows about marathons and marathon runners cause a great burning lump to form in my throat. I am still a runner. A runner who can't run. Sometimes, I want to run so much that the backs of my eyes burn I have to take deep breaths to maintain composure. I don't expect that will ever get easier.

Now she's a little boy in Spain playing pianos filled with flames

2007-05-01T18:31:00.000-07:00

More touching than Mr. Kruger’s Christmas

2007-04-14T18:08:00.000-07:00

My family’s collective sense of humor is irreverent and crude. Throw in filters that tend to be rather porous and open attitudes about sex and you have one very interesting family dynamic. I am not sure where this comes from. Somewhere along the way, my dad departed from a “proper” upbringing and has been shocking my poor grandmother ever since.

Given our humor and our tendencies to play off of one another when gathered together, we have the ability to turn the most innocent of intentions into something irreverent and funny. The last time we had the opportunity to practice this craft together was this past Christmas.

On Christmas day, we were taking turns opening gifts and, at least for a little while, had taken a break from the crude and irreverent. It was my turn to open a gift, so picked up a gift from my grandmother. Before tearing into the package, I opened the card and found a form letter, sent out to family and friends, inside. I read the letter out loud. It was rather typical of my grandmother, expounding upon the wonders of Christmas; snow, lights, jesus, family, etc. The letter was fairly mundane until she described her love for Christmas trees. “I just thrill at setting up the beautiful tree, with strings of lights, with tinsel, with the magnificent angels with golden balls.” There was a slight pause before the room erupted with peals of laughter. Angels with golden balls quickly became the joke de jour and we got hours of amusement at my poor well-intentioned grandmother’s expense.

A day or two later we took a trip to the mall to redeem the gift certificates that were burning holes in our pockets. We designated the calendar kiosk in the middle of the mall as our meet-up place and went our separate ways. After we had redeemed the gift certificates, we returned to the calendar kiosk with our spoils and decided to look through the calendars before leaving the mall. I saw my sister spot something interesting and watched her dart towards the item of interest. She picked up a calendar from the shelf, held it up, and said, “Look! Pink angels.” In response, my father who (1) didn’t use his “indoor voice” and (2) swears the following comment was an innocent mistake, not a Freudian slip, yells out “but where are his blue balls!?”

Do it Vulcan style baby!

2007-04-06T23:42:00.001-07:00

Gee, I'll have to think about it

2007-04-05T20:47:00.000-07:00

The conversation:

Administrator at work: Regarding the business trip to Spain you will be taking in April...

Me: Yes?

AAW: Well, it appears that we can get a substantially lower airline fare if you fly out a few days later originally planned. Would you mind staying in Spain for a few extra days?

Overheard while folding laundry

2007-04-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

Me: I could use some more underwear. These are starting to show some wear.
SM: It's okay. I'll still wear them.

I've watched this 10 times in the past 5 minutes

2007-03-29T17:47:00.000-07:00

I hesitate to post something like this because:
1. I don't know if it is really a banned Ikea ad.
2. I got it from dooce and well, I feel like I am being unoriginal if I borrow something from dooce.

But OMG this is the funniest thing I have seen in a long while. Enjoy.

Grace part 2

2007-03-29T11:18:00.000-07:00

You are attending a large conference being held at the Marriott Hotel. Before you enter the room where the first talks are being held, you grab a cup of the complementary coffee, take a sip, and dribble a bit of it down the front of your shirt. No big deal. It isn't much and you can just cover it up with your name tag. You take another sip and yet again dribble it down the front of your shirt. This time, there is no covering it up. You sigh loudly which only serves to call attention to the new leopard prints on your once-solid shirt.

Grace

2007-03-23T14:40:00.000-07:00

The sequence of events:

Go to lunch. It is sunny so you wear sunglasses. Come back from lunch. Perch sunglasses on head. Go to meeting. Fall asleep during meeting. Head-bob so hard that your sunglasses fall into the lap of the person in back of you. Put sunglasses on lap. Return to napping.

My heart hurts for the 11 year old me

2007-03-19T21:44:00.000-07:00

I wrote the following in my journal when I was 11. It kills me to read this because I remember so vividly how I felt back then.

It’s been forever scince I’v written. Carrie is my best friend. Abby moved to Georgia. I hate life. What’s the pourpous? I only have 3 friends. Rachel, Amy and Carrie. I hate myself. Get this. Yesterday I asked some people if I could play with them. They said yes but twice during recess they all pulled off to the side and whispered and laughed. They didn’t include me in the conversation so I figure it was about me. Carrie started her period. I don’t know why but I kind of wish I would start mine. I don’t know what to do. I’m depressed and I have been for the past couple of days. I just can’t shake the lousy mood I’m in. I hate myself!!! I hate life!!!

Science is Golden: Hot Male on Male Action

2007-03-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

The genetics of sexual orientation. Understanding the biological and genetic basis of complex phenotypes, especially phenotypes that include behavior, is very difficult given the complexity of the system and the inability to manipulate humans for genetic studies. For these reasons, simple model organisms, such as fruit files and worms, are used to understand the basics with the goal of gaining insights into the human condition.

Fruit fly males and females have distinct innate sexual behaviors. These behaviors are essential for reproductive success and are hardwired into the brain. Mature males court only females by tapping on the females with their forelegs, vibrating their wings, licking the females, and curling their abdomens. Females don’t court at all.

Video of standard courting behavior

In fruit flies, there is a gene called fruitless that takes on different forms in males and females. In males, a chunk in the middle of the gene is removed.

The researchers* put a female version of the gene into males and put a male version of the gene into females. If fruitless specifies sexual behavior, males with the female form should display little or no courtship activity and any residual courtship behavior should be directed towards males. Females with the male form should display courtship behavior directed towards other females and shouldn’t be receptive to normal males.

Females with the male form of fruitless showed standard male courting behaviors when paired with wildtype females. Males with the female version of fruitless paired with wildtype females showed little to no courting behavior.

Comparing courtship in male-male assays is more difficult than in male female assays. A more reliable way to test for male-male courtship in mutants is to monitor chaining behavior in groups of males. If groups of males with the female version of fruitless are left on plates, they begin to form courtship chains in which each male courts the one ahead of him. It is not clear how this chaining behavior relates to normal courtship, but it show that residual courtship behavior in altered males is directed towards other males.

Chaining: Hot male on male action

The researchers also noticed reduced fertility in females with the male version of fruitless. This could be due to altered sexual anatomy or lack of female behavior. Upon further investigation, they found that in altered females, that eggs were fertilized, but that these females lacked egg-laying behavior. The lack of egg-laying behavior resulted in the observation of fully developed embryos in the uterus of the female and occasionally even a “live birth” as the larva attempted to crawl out through the vagina. These observations suggest that the reduction in fertility is not due to altered anatomy caused by the male version of fruitless, but is due to a change in sexual behavior.

SUMMARY:
1. The female form of fruitless in males results in loss of male courtship behavior and orientation.
2. The male version of fruitless is essential for male behavior
3. Females with male splice forms behave as males
4. A complex innate behavior is specified by the action of a single gene!

Though fruit files and humans are distantly related and sexual orientation and sexual behavior in humans is much more complex, this study provides interesting insights into behavior and orientation and is certainly a leap forward in our understanding of these issues.

*Demir et al (2005) fruitless splicing specifies male courtship behavior in Drosophila. Cell: 121:785-794.

Just for Wry Catcher

2007-03-16T07:11:00.000-07:00

A cow-puppy

Products of improbable matings

2007-03-14T07:38:00.000-07:00

More mad science experiments here.

Science is golden Friday

2007-03-09T18:19:00.000-08:00

I'm going to give a new feature that I have been thinking about a bit of a test drive. Once a week, I will post on a scientific issue or study that has caught my eye or that I have been thinking about. Following is the inaugural science is golden friday post.

Obesity. Few common phenotypes result in value judgments of an individual and show a large spectrum of opinions regarding cause (even among experts) as strongly as obesity. Ask a large number of individuals about cause, and the answers will range from “laziness” to “almost completely genetic.” Genetics contributes strongly, however the increase in obesity rates over the past few decades shows that environmental factors (ie exercise and diet) are also strong contributors.

Are there any other factors might influence body weight?

We have a symbiotic relationship with the trillions of bacteria (encompassing many species) living in our gastrointestinal tracts. In other words, I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine. The bacteria benefit from a nutrient rich environment. We benefit because they can break down material we are incapable of digesting, allowing us to extract more energy from our food. In today’s world, I don’t have a need for the additional calories (most of us don’t—except for SM, damn the tinyness of his tiny ass), but an over-abundance of food is a recent phenomenon and is certainly not representative of the conditions in which the symbiotic relationship developed.

The question then becomes, do the microbial communities in the gut contribute body weight? In particular, is there a correlation between microbial community composition and body weight? Two studies published recently* seek to answer these questions. I summarize the points here:

1. The proportion of a certain type of bacteria (Fermicutes) was higher in obese individuals than in lean individuals. This was true in both humans and in mice.
2. When obese individuals lost weight, the microbiota became more lean-like.
3. The microbiota of obese mice was rich in genes encoding enzymes that break down otherwise indigestible materials, allowing more calories to be extracted.
4. Lean mice inoculated with the microbiota from obese mice extracted more calories from their food than mice inoculated with lean microbiota.

As you might have guessed from the title of the blog, I am interested in all things relating to evolution so thinking about these issues from an evolutionary perspective is endlessly fascinating to me. But I am also concerned about the societal implications of treating overweight individuals as “diseased” and/or “defective.” It has been shown that heavy individuals face discrimination based solely on weight and it concerns me that some people may use this type of research to validate discriminatory practices and beliefs. Should this research be halted? Absolutely not, but I don’t know what the solution is, or if one even exists.

*Backhed et al. (2006) Microbial ecology: human gut microbes associated with obesity. Nature 444:1022.

Turnbaugh et al. (2006) An obesity-associated gut microbiome with increased capacity for energy harvest. Nature 444:1027.

My kryptonite

2007-03-07T21:34:00.000-08:00

I promised SM that I wouldn't purchase any more ironic t-shirts, but the threadless $10 sale is like crack to me.

I need this shirt.

How not to move and sell a house

2007-03-06T20:42:00.000-08:00

DO NOT:

1. Send one person ahead of the other by a month and a half to start a new job.
2. Tell your work that you will be gone for one week to move. Then take two weeks.
3. Forget to double the time you estimate it will take to finish a project.
4. Forget to double the money you estimate it will take to finish a project.
5. Embark on a major remodel project before you move.
6. Embark on a major remodel project when it is cold and rainy.
7. Throw out your back so your wife has to lift everything (did you know I can move large mattresses BY MYSELF)
8. Touch old plumbing. It WILL disintegrate.
9. Leave 14 hours after you plan to, causing you to arrive at your destination late at night. Especially when you have to go to work the next day.
10. Carry your cat out to the uhaul. The loud noises will cause him to pee and poop on you.
11. Break a mirror that must be special ordered and installed before you move.
12. Move. Ever.

We made it

2007-03-05T07:01:00.000-08:00

We rolled into the bay area last night around 8pm. The past two weeks have been so very hard. But we're here now.

If I ruled the world

2007-03-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

Jail wouldn't be the only way for people without health insurance and with limited means to pay for cancer treatment.

Overheard in my kitchen

2007-02-26T19:25:00.000-08:00

Inspiration taken from Wry Catcher.

SM: How does that look to you?
ME: It looks just fine.
SM: Are you sure? I don't think so, I'm going to adjust it.
ME: That will take a while. Is it worth the time?
SM: I need to get it just right.
ME: You're being kind of anal.
SM: Yeah...I guess so...
ME: Its ok, I like anal.

More pictures because I am too busy working on this goddamn house to create a real post

2007-02-21T22:39:00.000-08:00

Photo gallery of the mundane

My very large foot posing as a small foot. How large you ask? Well, I won't tell you exactly but I will tell you that I wore a size 10 shoe in the 6th grade.

Oil painting I acquired at an estate sale for $20.

Vintage toaster I purchased at the same estate sale.

I must have a note pad to write on while I work. It helps me organize my thoughts.

Pretty much the only make-up I wear, and I wouldn't really call it make-up. The neutrogena stuff is more like tinted lotion and the burts bees is lip gloss/chap stick.

A Primate's Memoir by Robert Sapolsky. One of the funniest most delightful books I have ever read.

My favorite jacket. I picked it up at an indie-craft fair.

I moved to California before my husband and my household goods. I am currently back in Seattle preparing for the big move, but this is what I have been sleeping on while at Cal.

Muttering expletives that would make jesus cry

2007-02-19T15:46:00.000-08:00

If I ever decide to lay natural stone again, I will make damn sure that I can afford to pay someone to do it for me.
The same thing applies to hex tile.

How many phds does it take to measure tile correctly? More than one apparently.

Fighting off a starving mountain lion would be more appealing than re-living my teenage years

2007-02-16T15:54:00.000-08:00

I have always been tall. In 7th grade I hit 5' 7" (and then grew more), so it was natural for me to play keeper. I wasn't told that I would end up with broken bones, sprained fingers, wounds on the sides of my thighs from diving that would heal to my pajamas at night, scars I still bear from cleats, and the loss of much blood. I don't regret playing keeper and had I known, I still would have been a keeper.

Backpacking in Northern Idaho. There is a story here that I may tell at some point.
I loved to camp (and still do), but I don't have much time for it anymore.

I must have been about 14 or 15 here. I was very unhappy to have been at an activity that I did not want to attend. Bershon I think is the term.

I think I was 13 here. Bungee jumping was the "in" thing, so I was delighted when my parents gave me permission to try it out. I was so proud to have been bungee jumping that I wore my bungee jumping t-shirt constantly.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings

2007-02-14T21:36:00.001-08:00

I cannot resist Threadless t-shirts. I promise SM that every shirt I purchase will be my last, but somehow I always end up with just one more.

If you aren’t listening to woxy, you should be. Woxy is perhaps the best radio station on the planet. It is the recent recipient of two plug awards.

Trade your CDs at lala. You can find some cool music for $1.75 and that Creed CD you won’t admit to owning.

The Last Knit. Yes, I knit (and crochet). That desperate crazed look in her eyes—I know that look.

Science. Besides the research papers, they have news stories and articles on scientific topics applicable to the general public. Very cool stuff.

Slashdot. News for nerds. Stuff that matters.

Odd things, part 2

2007-02-12T23:02:00.000-08:00

I love old houses. I discovered this love of mine in 2002, when SM and I purchased an old bungalow. I spent hours peeking into the corners and into the hidden places, running my hands over the beautiful fir woodwork that has a splendor only 100 years exposure to air, light, and hundreds of hands before mine can give. Each peek under old carpet, behind cabinets, and into the spaces only revealed for a short time during a remodel yielded insights and clues into the history of this almost-living thing. I have a deep appreciation the all those who decided not to paint the woodwork. I smile silently when a paint chip peels off the wall, revealing colors previous owners forced the house to endure. I can almost hear a sigh of relief when we put hex tile in the bathroom, the flooring that was almost certainly in place originally.

More than the physical aspects of old houses, I love the stories they harbor about the many occupants moving through the doors, through the decades. I wonder about the sorrows, about the joys, and about the mundane. How many women buried children, victims to illnesses we have the luxury of forgetting? What happened inside those walls during the flu of 1918, the depression, and the world wars? I wonder whose initials are carved into the wood by the phone, so small I feel like I am sharing the secret of a long-ago misdeed.

I also think about my life within the walls and the stories that I have added. The house saw both SM and I earn our doctoral degrees. It saw the struggle of writing and the process that occurs as a graduate student moves from student to doctor. I hosted my first Thanksgiving dinner within those walls. I left the mormon church and religion in general in that house. It was there I realized that justice will not be handed out in an afterlife, somehow compensating for the suffering of the masses. I came to the realization that a desire for a just and equal world requires effort in the here and now. I can’t sit back and be comforted into inaction, thinking that ills suffered on earth will be righted after death. Death became real and personal to me within those walls.

And now we have a new old house in a new city. And again I wonder what the walls have seen.

And I wonder what stories we will contribute. What joys and what sorrows will these next years bring? Just as the last house saw a transition from clueless grad student into newly-minted doctor, will this house see a transition from a stumbling post-doc to a professor? Will it see the conception and even birth of a child?

Even in the beginning, I am leaving my mark on the house. Will a chip of paint from the walls I spent the weekend painting reveal the color I chose, causing future occupants to smile at a misguided color choice, much as I have done many times before?

Odd things, part 1

2007-02-11T08:23:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time (months ago!) in a place far away (not far enough: Utah) my friend Christy (the woman who I want to make-out with) tagged me with a meme, demanding (asking nicely) that I describe six odd things about myself (WTF??!!! You do that???).

1. When it comes to alcohol, I’m a light-weight. This is good and bad. Good because it is cheap and fast to get me to the point where I am happy HAPPY HAPPY! I either come down fast or keep drinking, which leads me to the bad: the hangovers.

2. When getting dressed, there is a certain order that MUST be followed. Undies on first (panties should be stricken from the English language: a reading of my dissertation as punishment to all who use that word). The bra is next. To put on the bra before the undies violates the natural order of things and might result in people walking around looking like this:

3. I love cold cereal. It is not unusual to see SM and I sitting on the couch in the evening watching The Office; he with a bowl of ice cream for dessert, me with a bowl of Grapenuts, the greatest cereal ever created.

Just Wondering

2007-01-29T19:38:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else find the term “Hot Pocket” vaguely erotic?

Help

2007-01-28T20:32:00.000-08:00

At the new job, my task for the past few weeks has been to think and to read with the goal of developing a high profile research project. Short order. Develop a project that will generate multiple Science and Nature papers, set the stage for my future career, cure cancer and AIDS, create peace in Iraq, and totally show-up sliced bread. No problem.

Life in the Left Lane

2007-01-27T12:57:00.000-08:00

Tales from Berkeley:

1. I was walking down the street one evening in a very good mood (ie quite tipsy) when a disheveled man sitting in front of a doughnut shop asked for some money to buy a doughnut. A doughnut sounded awfully tasty to me, so I went into the shop and bought us both one. I handed him the doughnut and his response was “where is the hot chocolate?”

2. The Indian restaurant in my hotel constantly blasts Mexican music.

3. They don’t speak “Seattle” when it comes to coffee. Ordering a double tall earns me blank stares.

4. I didn’t know that weather could be this nice in January. I keep forgetting that it isn’t spring. Winter? I am so beyond winter.

5. The best doughnuts IN THE WORLD are made across the street from my hotel.

6. I am powerless against said doughnuts.

7. I can’t figure out why my pants seem to be tighter than usual.

8. Tree-huggers, protesters, and free speech. Oh my!

Tales from beyond Berkeley:

This woman is awesome. Hear ye her.

Crickets

2007-01-21T16:39:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the handful of people who have kept visiting despite my long absence. Something about finishing a phd, moving, living in a hotel, and trying to find a place to live has made it difficult to post.

I'mmmmm baaaaackkkkk!

bezerkeley

2007-01-21T16:24:00.000-08:00

My mother-in-law, bless her heart, is one of the most opinionated people I know so it came as no surprise that she felt the need to educate and enlighten her naïve son and daughter-in-law about the dangers of moving to Berkeley.

MIL: Berkeley! That’s unpatriotic!
Me: …
MIL: My friend has a daughter who sent her child to boarding school because Berkeley is too dangerous.
Me: …
MIL: The gangs take the BART up from Oakland into Berkeley! Oakland! The gangs!

Proof that I am evil: I can’t wait to tell her that we have decided to live in an Oakland neighborhood near the BART.

Berkeley is a unique place with a certain character and most people, like my MIL, don’t hesitate to let me know exactly what they think of it, even if they have never been there.

Many of my family members are mormon. With that religion in my history and having gone to the University of Utah for college, they and I are familiar with a town in Utah called Provo, famous for BYU, which is the mormon church’s flagship university. When asked by these family members to describe Berkeley, I respond that Berkeley is very much like Provo.

Berkeley bud gotten to me, you ask. Not as far as you know. Allow me to explain.

1. Both are smallish college towns that have grown up around a university.
2. Both are within a reasonable distance to a metropolitan center (Berkeley-San Francisco) (Provo-Salt Lake City). Don’t argue with me about SLC being a metropolitan center. Yes, you have a point.
3. If religion is the opiate of the masses, they both have a strong tradition of drug use.
4. Both are on a far side of the political spectrum.
5. One has aging hippies, the other has aging general authorities (general authorities are the old men who run the mormon church)

The difference: Only one of the places makes me twitch uncontrollably. And! you have a hard time finding caffeinated beverages in one of the towns. Don’t even talk to me about finding alcohol there.

Recommend some books

2006-12-15T11:49:00.000-08:00

One of the worst things about moving to another location is the long drive between your old home and your new locale. SM and I are moving in two stages and I will have to make the drive twice. To get me through the drive, I plan on listening to books on CD through much of the trip. Please, recommend some good books to keep me sane. Or don't, because an insane Ros might be more fun than a sane Ros.

He'd make a lovely corpse

2006-12-14T22:38:00.000-08:00

I have a soft spot in my blackened heart for clever insults.

She is swimming in the shallow end of the intellectual pool. -me (I think I made it up and didn't just hear it somewhere)

He was born stupid, and greatly increased his birthright. -- Samuel Butler

I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial. -- Irvin S. Cobb

I can't believe that out of 100,000 sperm, you were the quickest. -- Steven Pearl

I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here. -- Stephen Bishop

I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure. -- Clarence Darrow

Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go. -- Oscar Wilde

You have delighted us long enough. -- Jane Austen

The gift that keeps on giving

2006-12-14T09:51:00.000-08:00

Yup, I definitely had asparagus for dinner last night.

One of my favorite posts

2006-12-12T22:04:00.000-08:00

This post, though almost a year old, is one of my favorites in the blogosphere. It comes from PZ Myers, a prof at the Univ of Minnesota.

Ain't she a beaut?

2006-12-12T21:42:00.000-08:00

New crab species found off of Easter Island.

lost in translation

2006-12-11T22:12:00.000-08:00

In high school, I spent a summer in Japan as an exchange student and was every bit at awkward as you might imagine. At 5’9” with blond-ish hair, I stood out like a proverbial sore thumb. Despite my cultural and language blunders (calling someone’s children scary instead of cute; mixing up the words for housewife and prostitute) I managed to endear myself to my host family and to the members of the school I attended. In other words, I was popular for the first and only time in my entire life.

That summer, besides being great fun, was one of the best learning experiences of my life. One of the most surprising lessons that I learned there was that sometimes those sweet little Japanese school-girls are sometimes not so sweet.

One day after school I stayed late talking with the English teacher who was thrilled to have an opportunity to practice English with a “native speaker.” As I was leaving the school grounds, I was cornered by two school-girls. I had noticed the two girls on previous occasions. They were always together and emitted what I can only describe as an odd vibe. The other students in the school were generally polite to them but kept their distance.

Wanting to be nice and giving them the benefit of the doubt, I stopped to talk with them about their desired topic, the differences between Japanese people and Americans. First they pointed out rather mundane differences; height, hair color, skin color, etc. It was at that point I thought that my small Japanese vocabulary had failed me. It sounded like they had pointed out that my breasts were much bigger than theirs. I thought I was mistaken (see prostitute vs housewife). However, it became clear that I was quite correct when they started making squeezing gestures and saying “touch, touch” in English.

Sometimes when you can’t recall the correct words or phrases in a foreign language you simply have to get by with what you can recall. I found myself forgetting the word for breast, even though I had just heard it. Trying to maintain my dignity, I said loudly “Don’t touch my cow parts!” and swiftly walked away.

Reasons I should never become a parent

2006-12-10T21:27:00.000-08:00

When my cat finds himself in unfortunate situations, my first reaction is to grab the camera.

When he doen't put himself in unfortunate situations, I do it for him.

Did she forget which city she was visiting?

2006-12-09T18:14:00.000-08:00

I was wandering around the main downtown core, waiting to cross the street at a busy intersection when I was approached by a woman who was obviously a tourist. With map in hand, fanny pack around her waist, a silly t-shirt and a pair of tennis shoes, she asked me if I was a local. I answered in the affirmative, which elicited a sigh of relief, as she was quite lost. Unfortunately for her, I had not heard of the store that she was trying to locate, to which she responded, “its right next to the Starbucks, does that help?”

That's just not normal!

2006-12-08T17:17:00.001-08:00

I’ve never been a terribly normal person. This statement even defies the broad range of behaviors that “normal” includes. When I was a child, this meant that I had a hard time relating to my peers. Example: In 7th grade English class, we were required to write a term paper on the subject of our choosing. Most of the students in the class chose rather standard topics that you might expect a middle-school student to choose; whales, George Washington, martial arts, you get the idea. The title of my paper was “Hit me in the head with a basketball.” Not is so many words but that is what a 7th grader sees when assaulted by the actual title of my paper, “Institutionalized oppression in the history of the United States.”

I am sad to report that the projectiles aimed at my head failed to knock any sense into me. In fact, the lack of adults willing to fling jello at a socially awkward individual has allowed me to continue and even expand on my oblivious-to-social-norms tendencies. Being in science has made things even worse. I no longer have any concept of what may or may not be acceptable to the outside world.

Members of my lab have been investigating the compound in asparagus that makes urine smell. In particular, they have been investigating the role of genetics in the ability to smell and produce this metabolite. This means that bottles of boss-pee have been sitting on the benches in lab, waiting to be smelled by members of the lab. Yes, you read that correctly, I smell my boss’s pee. In lab, this is the topic of regular conversation. The problem lies in the fact that I forget that the rest of the world doesn’t talk about asparagus-pee on a regular basis. You can see where this is going. SM and I recently attended a Christmas party hosted by one of his co-workers. We arrived just in time to see the hostess pull a tray of beautifully roasted asparagus out of the oven. With our coats still on, I blurted out “Who here can smell the asparagus metabolite in urine?” SM sighed loudly as he realized that this would be yet another party where he and I socialize with ourselves because his wife was not hit in the head with a basketball often enough as a child.

Not that type of oyster

2006-12-05T22:00:00.000-08:00

A conversation that occurred soon after I joined the lab that I would do my graduate research in:

Me: I had rocky mountain oysters for the first time this weekend!
Co-worker: Uproarious laughter.
Me: Hu?
Me: Oh Shit! Oysters rockefeller! Oysters rockefeller! I meant to say oysters rockefeller!
Co-worker: This is going to be a fun ride.

It was indeed a fun ride. I will miss my lab-mates terribly.

Testing

2006-11-04T10:13:00.001-08:00

Testing