ISleepInADrawer.com

And Then There Were Twenty-Five

I, obviously, have a "thing" for international politics.
It's not like I'm (completely) ashamed of my own country... it's just that I always delve into the international headlines from the BBC before I even glance at the Latest Dirt from America. I likewise skip the "United States" section of The Economist.

Anyhoo, it's still 30 April here, but it's rapidly becoming 1 May across the Atlantic. The EU is up to twenty-five:

(Don't be fooled... Romania, Bulgaria, and Turkey are still applicant nations.)

Ill Met by Moonlight

Last night, Zach and I joined Marcella and her friends for our last production this season by the Seattle Shakespeare Company - A Midsummer Night's Dream... set in the late 1950s. Poodle skirts, leather jackets, and all-the-rest... and quite possibly the best production of Midsummer I've ever seen. In addition to the already-fantastic SSC productions of King Lear and Measure for Measure I attended earlier this season.

So, I'm intrigued... and am contemplating a subscription for next year:
As You Like It
Love's Labour's Lost
Othello
The Taming of the Shrew (all-male cast production)

Of the four, I've read only Taming.
Should I? Or shouldn't I?

Number Two

Volume One = Awesome
Volume Two = Equally awesome... but in such a different way from the first.

And that's what makes it all so brilliant.
If you have yet to see Vol. 1, time's a-wastin'! And once 1 is done, mosey on over to the nearest cinema and see Vol. 2, as I finally did this evening.
Tarantino, you rock.

Possession

Saturday: Best Buy.
Zach and I walk in.

Zach: "I'm going to go look at digital cameras... I think I've finally found one I want to buy."
Me: "Okay, let's go."

Zach finds a salesperson, and they begin camera-talk.
I yawn.
They go "Blah blah camera blah pixels..."

I wander over to the DVDs... and find Happiness:

"What the devil are you staring at? It's a patriotic purchase, you f*cker!"

I now own two seasons of The Family Guy.
Oh yeah.

Invasion

A former Seattlite (now a New Yorker - you rock, Paul) has just clued me in on a horrific development: my lovable home is being invaded this weekend...

...by the May Day for Marriage...

...a religious organization set out to defend the sanctity of marriage. They're having 10,000 like-minded Washington citizens bussed in for a rally in SafeCo Field. Apparently, some sort of counter-protest is in the works... but it sounds a bit disorganized at this stage. Maybe I'll just show up with Zach and hold hands across the street; that alone should draw some fire, apparently.

Wine with Stravinsky

My boyfriend and I bought tickets to a series of Seattle Symphony concerts this spring. Alas, tonight was our final concert. Some lessons this evening:
--Music originally inspired by James Joyce novels proves... interesting. [Stephen Albert's River Run]
--The Pulitzer is also apparently awarded to composers. [See above bullet.]
--Piano virtuoso Lang Lang enjoys swaying as he plays, and as the orchestra accompanies.
--Lang Lang takes Chopin fast and furious. [Frederic Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor]
--Chopin is best heard entirely sober.
--Stravinsky, on the other hand, is best after a glass (or two) of wine. Thank God for intermission. [Igor Stravinsky's Petrouchka]
--My poor boyfriend, I do believe, became quite buzzed off of his wine, and thus found Stravinsky to be quite hilarious.
--So did a couple seated two rows in front of us.
--I'm partial to pieces written in the key of E minor.
--I'm also partial to Chinese piano virtuosos who happen to be two years my junior.
--Despite this, I momentarily had to fight off guilt of the fact that Lang Lang, at the age of twenty-one, has accomplished ten times more than I might hope to achieve in seventy-one years on this Earth (I'm assuming seventy-one is the average lifespan of an American male these days).

Other lessons of today:
--Seattle drivers generally suck.
--The "scrape/shave" biopsy I was subjected to yesterday has left a rather large and nasty wound/scar on my cheek. Let's hope it fades with time. Otherwise, get used to seeing me with rather large and tacky band-aids on my face.

Right Now

(The items below are listed in no particular order...)

Today, I...
--showered
--took two ibuprofen
--had a testicular exam (my physician is very thorough)
--tripped getting on the bus
--had a "scrape" biopsy done on the "bump" on my left cheek
--bought a ham-and-cheese croissant from la Boulangerie (think of it as a post-biopsy-awww-James-you-were-a-good-patient-reward)
--tripped getting off the bus
--listened to a piano concerto by Chopin
--decided that I don't know many people outside of my lab at work, and wondered what I could do about that
--hummed the above piano concerto while my physician performed the above biopsy
--decided what to get my housemate for her birthday
--parallel parked rather poorly on Stone Way
--tried to sit down on the chair at my desk, missed the chair, and slid onto the floor
--added and subtracted
--sighed at the huge bandage on my cheek that wasn't on my cheek when I entered the doctor's office
--looked up silver nitrate in an old chemistry textbook from college
--drank a low-sodium V-8
--checked the weather forecast for the greater Seattle-Tacoma area, and packed an umbrella accordingly
--lost my ID for work
--drank two cups of tea
--explained to my doctor that I already know what the epididymis is, since I studied biology in college
--found my ID for work
--resolved to go to Friday Night Seminar for work
--decided what to get my mother for Mother's Day (she can be quite difficult to shop for)
--sprayed clogne in my eye inadvertently
--asked two labmates if the bandage on my cheek made me look silly
--asked them if it made me look stupid after they said I didn't look silly (one should cover all the bases, shouldn't one?)
--brushed and flossed

Busy day.
And all before noon, too.

Unnatural Disasters

Today at work, we had a drill. An Earthquake Drill. At the appointed time, a Center-wide announcement simulating "shaking in the area" was piped in over the intercom, and all good little Hutch employees dove under their desks, or lab benches, or whatever. Duck, cover, hold. Or so they say.

In the midst of this drill, I looked around and thought, "My God! What the hell am I doing in this place?!"

After all, as one born Arkansas, and later grew up in Florida and Illinois, I've had my share of Natural Disasters:
--Tornadoes
--Hurricanes
--Flash floods
From Montessori School on through college, I participated in Organized Drill after Organized Drill. Remember those tornado drills, anybody? Grab your biggest textbook, file out into the hallway, crouch, face the wall, and bring the book over your head. I was a particular fan of the hurricane drills we had in Florida when my second grade class met in a "portable classroom" (a glorified trailer... the southern Florida schools were overwhelmed with the latest influx of Cuban refugees and couldn't build new classrooms fast enough). For those of us in the vulnerable trailers/portable classrooms, the hurricane drill consisted of:
"When I blow this whistle, run like heck for the main gym!!!"

I've been in dozens of tornadoes (hiding in the basement, the interior bathroom, the basement of my high school, whatever), several hurricanes, and I'm not even going to get started on the Mississippi floods from my years in Illinois. And, all in all, I thought I had a pretty good grasp of it all. The siren sounds, or the warning is given, and you take cover. In the case of hurricanes, the warning lasts several days. For tornadoes, just a few minutes. But simple pimple. We have warning!

And now, here I sit in Seattle... one of many no-good troublespots breeding an assortment of Unnatural Disasters:
--Earthquakes
--Volcanoes
--Tsunamis

How do you spell "no warning"? E-A-R-T-H-Q-U-A-K-E. And "maybe no warning"? V-O-L-C-A-N-O. And "warning, but not long enough to do anything about it"? T-S-U-N-A-M-I. An Unnatural Disaster isn't kind enough to announce itself. (I obviously don't like surprises... and can't think on my feet.)

So, obviously, today's calm, orderly drill at work reminded me of one thing: I've moved from a hotbed of Natural Disasters to a melting pot of Unnatural Disasters. Damnit! It's not like I'll spend the rest of my days here on the West Coast constantly fearing The Inevitable. But it really frosts my cookies that, after twenty-two years of careful preparation on the part of my parents, teachers, and government officials for the scores of Natural Disasters I've faced, here I go off to Seattle, with no idea what to do when the ground shakes. After all, Illinois isn't exactly teeming with earthquakes.

What really irks me is how my friends and co-workers describe the last earthquake with such calm, poise, and ease... almost like they're recalling a good, fun day-at-the-beach:
"Oh, I was in the T building at the hospital; once the walls cracked and the ceiling fell in, we dove under the counter just before the south window burst..."
"I just dove on top of my kids until it stopped, and then we took a nap."
"We all dove under the table just before the overhead light fixtures collapsed and the windows broke... I'd worn sandals, of course..."

For my first earthquake experience, whenever it happens, my description will be thus: "I ran around screaming bloody murder and tearing my clothes off until something knocked me unconscious... then I awoke and mourned the loss of my flat-screen TV."

Amendment and Anal Bum Cover

Thanks to all for tolerating my previous entry. I did not intend it to be a "Woe-is-me" deal, or (worse yet) an exercise in "I'm-a-hero." Those were far from my intentions. I was just irked... and irked that I was irked - I excel at over-analysis. But, I appreciate hearing what ya'll (Oh no! Southern drawl!) had to say. Kudos to David for pointing out an incident from the Quad Cities that I'd pressed into my unconscious mind.

But, all is well here. Or reasonably well. I have some (hopefully) minor medical issues that must be checked out later this week... I'd be lying if I said I was 100% worry-free... but it isn't occupying Every Thought. I have the appointment; I must simply wait.

Medical issues and civil rights aside, here's something hilarious that has been circulating through my lab this week: The Ten Worst Album Covers of All Time. Enjoy!

Falafel

Indulge me here, folks. I’m not sure how much sense this entry will make – as I’m still trying to sort it all out in my head. Nothing Major happened this weekend; but something Minor happened yesterday that’s… well… that’s irking me.

You see, all I wanted was some falafel.

Zach and I were in the University District Sunday afternoon, having just returned some videos to Scarecrow. We were both hungry – he wanted pizza, and I insisted on falafel. Blessed be the pizza place on University Way that is just across the street from a little Mediterranean establishment… thus potentially satisfying both of our irrational cravings. So, we began walking down University Way and… for some reason… I honestly can’t think why, I just inadvertently started to hold Zach’s hand. I mean, it’s not like I’ve never done that before – I’ve held is hand often as we’re walking. Perhaps we just do it so I won’t be tempted to abuse him in any manner (other than my usual verbal abuse, of course – it’s tough love he craves, after all). Just kidding. No abuse for Zach.

Anyway, I was sidetracked there. You see, usually, just before I take his hand, I stop for a splitsecond and think, “Where are we? Is this a safe place for two guys to be seen holding hands?” No biggie. Just looking out for myself. I mean, Seattle can be pretty liberal, but Zach and I have lived here less than a year; and, believe me, the area we used to live in on the Iowa/Illinois border is NOT liberal. I cannot imagine two people of the same gender holding hands in public in the Quad Cities – at least not without those two persons getting ostracized and abused. But, I suppose Seattle has spoiled me – because I let my guard down yesterday. I just took his hand and kept walking – oblivious to the “looks” we were getting. So imagine my surprise when, while passing a small group on the sidewalk, I hear:

--“Oh, c’mon guys! Not HERE! Not HERE!”
--“Sick-o!”
--“Think of the CHILDREN!”
--“Take that up to Capitol Hill!” [Capitol Hill is Seattle’s unofficial “gay district.”]
--“Goddamnit, LOOK AT THEM! Sick sick sick!”
--“Not in front of kids! You disgust me!!”
--“No one needs to see that perverted crap!”

It was just two of them. At least one was a panhandler. I squeezed Zach’s hand and we quickened our pace. Realizing my error (I forgot to think before I took his hand, after all), I looked around at the people staring at us (he said “look at them,” after all) all around the block – out of shops, from their cars, from their apartments. I suppose I became naive… Seattle is a liberal, accepting metropolis, after all, right? I expected to see sympathetic looks from all angles. But I instead saw scowls, frowns, heads shaking, arms folded, lips pursed in a tsk tsk manner – all directed at the two of us. Think of the stare-of-death that mothers are famous for giving when they’re enraged, ashamed, or DISAPPOINTED. Wherever I looked, I felt like everyone agreed with the panhandler and the other dude (whoever he was).

It started to rain. I would’ve broken out into a sprint had Zach not had firm hold of my hand – and he wasn’t running away. Hell, he looked so enraged that you could’ve fried an egg on his forehead (we both have big foreheads). I, however, was scared sh*tless. I could still hear them yelling, even in the next block. I couldn’t believe my stupidity – I couldn’t believe my naivety. This wasn’t Capitol Hill, after all. We weren’t guaranteed “safety.” I’d obviously lost my appetite by then. The fact that we could still hear shouting two blocks away irked me – Were we being followed? Should we just cut our losses and get back to my place? I tried to act calm and giggle – after all, shouldn’t I giggle and think that the guys and all the scowling faces were just being dumb and bigoted? And shouldn’t I laugh it off to show that I don’t care what they think?

Well, I apparently did care. The smile was an act.

We got to the pizza joint, and Zach got his slice. Even though I wasn’t hungry anymore, I got my falafel and ate it as we walked home. The whole thing just irked the hell out of me. The fact that I let my guard down and did something like hold his hand outside of Capitol Hill, the fact that everyone seemed to agree with the two vocalists (at least, they agreed with their body language and facial expressions), the fact that we saw a heterosexual couple holding hands just like we were no more than five minutes later. Hell, I was even irked by the fact that I was irked. After all, no one physically hurt me or abused me. It was just some yelling. Wash it off, right? Well, why the hell can’t I wash it off?

I’m especially bothered by the fact that, when I realized what was happening, my first instinct was to get the hell out of there. Fight-or-flight instinct, right? The Prime Directive of Mammals. Well, the Prime Directive Spectrum shifted right to “Flight” for me, and “Fight” for Zach. He later said he wanted to turn around and yell at the panhandler for drunkenly begging in the streets. Even Zach will admit that his reaction was borne more of rage that of socioeconomic beliefs. He’s the walking definition of liberal, after all – he just needed something to strike back with. But getting “classist” (as Karen would say) with him would’ve made the situation worse. I tried to think of what would’ve been a better response… and came up with zilch. Was there a possible response to this guy? If so, Zach and I failed to come up with it. We just kept going – and that (obviously) didn’t feel right at all. Is it possible that the panhandler and his vocal partner were actually in the right this time?

I said earlier that I’m irked by the fact that this whole situation irks me. It’s not like it’s the first time anyone’s ever yelled at me or directed verbal abuse in my direction for being gay. I don’t know why this situation stands out from all the others. Maybe it’s because all the other situations occurred in expect environments – my homophobic high school – a conservative college – the close-minded South. But here, I was naïve. I thought it was okay. And BOY was I wrong.

Anyway, if you’ve managed to make it this far – and so far haven’t perished from the horrific grammar and lack-of-focus, thank you from the bottom of my heart. (Contrary to popular belief, I do indeed have a heart.) I just needed to toss some ideas around.

After all, I just wanted some falafel!

Minus the Halo

Somehow, I don't think the halo suits "me." And I forgot the glasses. Oh, and the hair is totally wrong. But, if I had an Ike shirt, I'd be wearing it... and drinking a beer.
But make your own.
(Thanks, Adam and Sam, for the idea.)

Detachable Penis

I had an appointment with my physician midday today; so I took a mid-morning departure from lab, bussed it back home, and drove to the doc's. Check-in, check-up, check-out.
Back in the car, I flip on 107.7FM ("the end... Seattle's original alternative"), and almost smash my Buick into oncoming traffic when when radio greets me with a chorus gleefully chanting:

"Detachable Penis"

I must really be out of touch with modern music. Or maybe I just haven't given 107.7 a good listen-to lately. Either way, "Detachable Penis" confused me so much that I didn't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt.
Maybe it'd be better for my driving habits if I just listened to Car Talk and NPR full-time instead.

Am I Evil?

It's so cruel... and yet I just continued to laugh...

A Sideline from The Onion:

Baby Put On Phone Told Her Parents Hate Her

Current Status

Got it from a friend... and figured, "Eh, what the hell..."
Besides, it has the most random questions.

Meals
For breakfast: vanilla yogurt with granola
Do you usually eat breakfast? I never miss a meal.
Lebanese, Korean, or Thai restaurant? Lebanese
Greek, Baja Mexican, or TexMex restaurant? Baja Mexican
German, Italian, or Russian restaurant? Prost!
Ethiopian, Senegalese, or Moroccan restaurant? Ethiopian
Chinese, Vietnamese, or Korean restaurant? Vietnamese
French or Russian bakery? both

Big Glowing Box
Favorite documentary: tie - Spellbound and 4 Little Girls
Favorite Denzel Washington acting moment: Malcolm X
Favorite Care Bear: Grumpy Bear
Favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle: Donatello
Favorite Star Trek series: Next Generation
Was The Godfather, Part III really worth it? Haven’t seen any of them.
Was Event Horizon really worth it? No.
Would you say it was worth it for a Scooby Snack? No.
For two Scooby Snacks? You are a vile temptress. And yes.
Would you get really annoyed with Shaggy and Scooby when they’d always trip the elaborate trap set up for the monster at the end of every episode of Scooby-Doo? Hell yes! Fools. Just leave them in the Mystery Machine.
Favorite South Park character: Ike

Stage
Are you an actor or singer? Hell no.
Favorite opera: Madame Butterfly, Puccini
Favorite musical: Into the Woods
Was Cats really worth it? Um, sure. I liked the costuming.
Ever seen a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat where the man playing Joseph WASN'T gay? No. But I’ve only seen it twice.

Naughty (any Americans here can take the Fifth Amendment [protection from self-incrimination])
Ever shown your penis to your friends? Why?
Into watersports? NO
Any fetishes? Of course. But I ain’t tellin’ you.
Would you clue us in on a few of them? Damn it! Can’t you read?!
Ever curious about having sex with a woman? Actually, no. I’m still quite drawn to the Y chromosome.
Would you do it for a Scooby Snack? No. But maybe the whole box.

Misc.
Paint those fingernails? Nope. But my toenails are blue.
What are you wearing to work/school today? A UCSF hoodie. Of course it had to be a hoodie.
Do you feel old? Lately, yes.
Seeing anyone right now? Yeah. He’s swell.
If so, is the happy couple into “group activities”? We’ll let you know.
If not, want to have dinner? You buy. I bring Zach.
Name on Friendster? Damn it! I’m not ON Friendster, okay?!
Name of future son: Jonas
Name of future daughter: Lenore
What’s the most important thing to a man? Ham.
Says who? Cartman from South Park

The Entertainer

God help us all - I'm having people over for dinner.

I figured I must take advantage of this Golden Opportunity (Definition: both housemates are out of town) while I can... and G.O. happens to coincide with Eric's initiation as a Seattlite. He's fresh-off-the-interstate from Ohio, and it sure took him long enough to get here. Thus, Zach and I are making dinner for him, Karen, Brad, and hopefully Chuck. Not a large party at all - but hopefully a good starting point for someone (ME ME) who truly wishes to be an adult someday.

Blow

No, it's not naughty. But Hadlers showed me how to blow eggs Friday night. You know - use a pin to poke holes in either end, and blow out the contents. I found out my lungs aren't that powerful... and that apparently "everyone" does this when they're little (unless you're me - apparently my family has always been quite paranoid about Salmonella). So, I blew an egg - colored Tetrahymena (that's the organism I work on in lab) on it with a crayon, and dyed it blue. I now have my very own Tetrahymena egg to keep foreverandever.

Don't worry; Zach and Hadley let me know that this was a bad thing to be proud of.

Anyway, blowjobs aside, the-rest-of-my-weekend:

Zach and I went to our fourth (fifth?) Seattle Symphony concert Saturday - and quite a depressing one. The program, for the classical music lovers (the rest of ya'll - skip this part - if you're still reading):
--Arnold Schoenberg, A Survivor from Warsaw
--Samuel Barber, Adagio for Strings
--Johannes Brahms, Ein deutsches Requiem
The Schoenberg and Barber pieces were played back-to-back, followed by a repeat of the first with a more intense narration and choral accompaniment. Yes, I cried - but hey, it's a Holocaust survival piece, people! And the Requiem was gorgeous. But then again, ya'll should know I adore Brahms as much as the Beatles.

Sunday, Hadlers, Zach, and I ventured to Discovery Park under utterly cloudless, gorgeous skies and seventy degree weather. Way-too-much-food, beach walks, Easter eggs (even my Tetrahymena pride), and my not-so-intelligent idea of hiking-in-flip-flops dominated. Photos below:

Starfish in a tidal pool.

Seagull feeding on a crustacean.

Cold water makes James look special.

And just to show you that I've always looked special...

Age three or four?... Note the generally confused (and rather chubby) look, which persists to this day.

Pagan

You're right, Mike... Hooray for pagan holidays.

Happy Whatever-You-Celebrate

Balance and Equality

As a Libra, I apparently (so They say) strive for balance - the Full Circle - the complete path. Increase here - and decrease there to keep the Total the same. Or as close to Sameness as one can get.

So, in retrospect, it should come as no surprise that today in lab I...

--finally got an experiment to work that hasn't worked in over two months (and has consequently been stalling any progress on my project).

And, just to show that there's balance in the Universe, today in lab I also...

--melted a valued plastic container when I inadvertantly set a large bowl of acetone on fire which, if left unchecked, could have burned the lab down.

Luckily, it was not left unchecked. Patrick and I saved the day. The fire alarms didn't even have a chance to go off. But, this incident just reminds me that there is balance after all. I did something brainful, and then I did something entirely brainless. Go James!

Resurrection

I don't know how I got talked into this, but a discussion during lunch somehow evolved into weekend plans... and I, upon pointing out that I had no Easter plans, suddenly became enveloped into holidayness.

So tonight, Hadlers, Zach, and I are meeting for dinner at the Ethiopian restaurant on Capitol Hill (the-place-with-the-incredibly-hot-waiter-who-teases-me-for-getting-so-flustered-around-him), and dying Easter eggs afterwards.

Sunday, we're apparently hiding them. Should I be at all concerned by the fact that I (he-who-shuns-holidays) may, for the first time in almost fifteen years, participate in an Easter Egg Hunt?

West Ukranian design... and you can bet any eggs I dye will be of a less-sophisticated nature...

Apathy Cream

A recent post from the ever-enthralling-and-inspiring Adam (yes, that is your title, Hooker) has thankfully reminded me of one of my favorite Dilbert comics ever... and its relevance to my current situation.

Asok, the overly-abused-but-could-be-cute-in-real-life intern, is given just one too many assignments... and snaps - falling into a pseudo-catatonic state known as "the hardening." [Alright people, have your laugh now... let's keep this post rated G and above-the-waist.] The solution to mental and physical rigidity?... Apathy cream - applied numbly by post-hardened co-workers Dilbert and Wally - soaks through Asok's skin, allowing him to work again... only this time with no perfectionist streak, no desire to succeed or advance, and the basic indifference that has become the American Way.

Man, too bad apathy cream isn't sold over-the-counter.

Anyone close to me knows that work lately has made me snap a few too many times. I make mistakes time and again - experiments fail, procedures lag, and don't even get me started on PCR contamination! [Forgive me... that was a science term.] Maybe there's a little bit of perfectionist in me, but I'm just not accustomed to persistent failure of this magnitude. My labmates shrug it off as, "Well, this happens in research." But, they all have perfectionist streaks that would put mine to shame, intellect that would curl my hair (I suppose you have to see my hair to appreciate that comment), and drive akin to Warp Factor 9... and, I've never seen them screw something up... at least to the extend that I have.

I'm trying not to care about my stalled work... that is, I'm trying to prevent it from "getting to me." Keeping it from ruining the rest of my day. But lately, I've wondered if I can make it in this field. Granted, my surroundings here are high above my intellectual abilities (that is, if I did go to grad school for molecular biology, I'd find a school and program below the level of the Hutch... something more appropriate for my education, background, experience, and mental abilities) - so just because I can't "make it" at the Hutch doesn't mean I can't "make it" anywhere in biology. But, as Zach points out persistently (and as two other friends of mine said recently), there are other fields out there I can pursue and seem as interested in (or more interested in) than biology - take paleontology, for example. So, there are options out there for me. But, that requires GRE scores, applications, and a good deal of commitment (as a friend of mine going to get her M.D./Ph.D. said to me the other day: "James, to go to grad school in this field, we really need to be dedicated... I mean, we have to take a $10,000 paycut for the next 6-8 years, work longer hours, and take a benefits cut going to the student health plan!... But, in the end, you learn a ton, possibly become famous, and they get to call you Dr. James.").

For now, I still have this nearly day-by-day struggle against constant snapping. Asok-in-overdrive. Even two of my most overachieving labmates are starting to worry (though two others think it's the funniest thing they've ever seen). With a little degree of mental conditioning, a lot of music (the Game Boy earphones are practically an intricate part of my ears now), and a generous degree of help from many of my friends have helped me lately. I just hope I can push through this Syndrome-of-F*cking-Up without ending up like Asok. Unfortunately, there's no apathy cream available to keep my personal drive at bay.

That said, I know I will survive. A technician in the lab across from me, who's as down-to-Earth as I'd love to be, reassured me yesterday that he went through the same thing his first year at the Hutch. He and I are quite different (he likes girls, cars, and being buff) - but I was reassured beyond description that he got through his "hardening" (yes, we're still keeping this above-the-waist)... and he promised me that I'd live - and live well.

Bottom Line: this whole situation (which has been building up since before my vacation a few weeks ago) has taught me Two Things...

Thing One: I need to calm down, trust myself a little more, worry a little less, and hurry-the-hell-up-and-take-those-GREs.
Thing Two: No matter what happens, I'm lucky (so-very-lucky) to have so much unconditional support from my friends. Without them, only an apathy cream face mask could save me... as long as I remember to poke air holes through it.

The Thaw

Prepare for a Dose of Environmentalism:

The latest news on Greenland's ice sheet isn't encouraging. A global rise in sea levels by 7 meters?! Granted, this is the worst-case scenario - and one that won't happen probably for at least three centuries. But apparently, what we do (or don't do) in the next century or so will seal Greenland's fate. And ours as well.

You hear that, Bush?! The Kyoto Protocol may not be perfect, but it's better than doing nothing to curb greenhouse gas emissions. But then again, the consequences of this problem will surface so far into the future that part of me wonders if anyone is going to care... or do anything to prevent the Thaw-to-End-All-Thaws. But, a rise of two or three degrees centigrade will seal Greenland's fate; and human activity my raise the global temperature 1.5 to 4 degrees centigrade within the next few centuries.

Unsettling, to say the least.

Image courtesy of The Washington Post.

And you can bet I'll dig my talons into that article in Nature to find out more. (Promise not to post on it, though! I don't hit this activist streak very often.)

Thus ends this Dose of Environmentalism.
[Be glad it wasn't a suppository.]

Intellectual Prowess

I may finally have a way to force myself to study for, and eventually take, both the general GRE and the biology (or biochemistry or molecular biology) GRE:

Last night Zach told me he's going to take the Washington state bar exam this July.

You'd think, "Big deal... that's over three months away." Well, not really. Apparently, he was supposed to start studying... well... YESTERDAY. Better yet - ten years ago. So, compared to what he's facing in his attempt to be a licensed attorney in Washington, I suppose I have little to complain about with my measly tests. Plus, with all the time he has to spend studying, it might actually motivate my own study habits.

Might.

Though, James knows James better than Zach knows James. I was a skilled procrastinator through high school and college - And I'm very set in my ways. Plus, my general contempt of any and all standardized tests may further distract my "study habits" (such as they are). And anyone who really knows me will realize that I'll really just want to sit on my bedroom floor, cross-legged, reading Calvin and Hobbes.

After all, childhood nostalgia beats intellectual prowess any day of the week.
(Yeah, don't worry. I'll go buy the damn GRE books. Sheesh.)

Tonight: Seder for Passover.
Tomorrow night: Make Zach study for the bar.
This Weekend: Eric's moving to Seattle! Wohoo!

Let My People Go.

Zach and I have been invited to a seder tomorrow tonight for Passover. This is a perfect example of why I wish I'd had a more diverse religious upbringing! Forget the Southern Baptist dogmas and endless fire-and-brimstone revivals from my early childhood - forget incessant voting and Trinity scriptures from the Presbyterian churches of my youth - forget the kneeling-for-communion-on-my-bad-knees and comforting liturgical ceremonies of the Lutheran church gigs I played through high school and college! It's all Protestant - my religious "diversity" consists of:
--Extreme, green-in-the-face exposure to various facets of far-right Evangelical Protestantism and Progressive Midwestern Protestantism.

Great. That should prepare me fully well for attending a seder for Passover.

So, any advice?
What do I bring? What do I wear?
What do I say?! (Foot-in-Mouth: "Oh! Go Down, Moses is one of my favorite hymns! It kind of has to do with Passover, right?")

That's it - if I have children, they're going to be raised Buddhist, Taoist, Hindu, Unitarian Universalist, Muslim, and Jewish. All at once.
And they'll play the violin like gypsies and have voodoo dolls to boot.

Or, instead, I could prescribe the transcendentalist philosophy my parents picked - and hope that they, unlike me, don't pick up an encyclopedia, read (about evolution, the Spanish Inquisition, and apartheid), and become "agnostic".

Hmmmm. I should go buy some voodoo dolls.

The Artchive

Recently, I became a member of the Seattle Art Museum (SAM) - at least for a year. Quite an investment, but worth it, I think. Especially since I won't have to pay an admission fee each time I walk in to either museum now. I like my art in small doses. But if I pay an admission fee, I think, "James, you paid somethingsomething dollars to get in here - you've got to squeeze your money's worth out!" So, four to six hours later, I stumble out of the art museum, drained of all senses, and require on average a two-hour nap before I can face the world again.

Now, I can have my small doses. A half-hour. One hour. Whatever. Oh - and a discount at the museum store. Sweet.

Best part (and reason I made this post): when I enter either museum now, I'm supposed to flash my membership card and get a pin to wear that shows I don't have to pay an admission fee.
The pin: SAM loves me.

What an appropriate transition, then, to welcome another Sam who (I hope) loves me (well, as much as one can from Dallas) back to the web world. He's started posting again. Take a gander. And welcome back, Sam.

Seattle Minus One

I just heard that a close friend of mine will be leaving Seattle this summer to go to graduate school in San Francisco. I'm terribly happy for her - hell, she's going to get her M.D./Ph.D. But while I wore my best "aw shucks" smile for her, my insides were screaming, "Noooooooo!"

Do I have right to be upset? I'm so proud of her, and I know she's leaving to do Great Things. But I still irrationally wish she wasn't leaving! And she isn't the only one of my friends leaving - another is off to the University of Chicago - and still another may leave for schools on the East Coast.

I'm pleased as punch that they're all following their dreams. But at the same time, I'm torn - I fear that the small world I've built up for myself here over the past ten months is leaving, piece by piece. Worse yet, am I just being left behind? While all the other young, fresh-out-of-college twentysomethings go back to school or get their dream jobs, am I just left alone standing in my messy bedroom shouting to the ceiling, "Hey! What about me?!"

The Hutch is not my dream job. Hell, I don't know what my dream job would be; nor do I know if grad school/whatever school is something I'm capable of undertaking. I feel like My Car has just sputtered and stalled on the Highway (of Life?), while my fellow Youngsters zoom past.

Am I crazy?... Maybe I need a new alternator.

In the meantime, my friend and I are having coffee tonight. I want to hear all the details of her upcoming move, the program she's entering, etc. She's off to San Francisco this summer, and Seattle will miss her. Worse yet, I'll miss her more.