ISleepInADrawer.com

The End

New Year's Eve in my household:
--leftover plantain soup
--Scrabble, Axis & Allies, and Trivial Pursuit
--pre-Iowa Caucus C-Span speeches... So far, Fred Thompson and Michelle Obama!
--wondering what exactly my cat is sick with
--cheap white wine
--not-so-cheap champagne from a dear friend
--and my man!

By comparison, I know your New Year's Eve sucks royally.

Hope Nonetheless

Imperfect hope, but hope nonetheless.

Benazir Bhutto
b. 21 June 1953 in Karachi
d. 27 December 2007 in Rawalpindi

For years, even after she and Nawaz Sharif were exiled, I had hope that she could and would return. Return and begin to Make Things Better. For her, for them, and for all of us.

She had her virtues, and her faults. She had her successes, and her failures. In that sense, I'll bet you that she was a very human human. But, in the end, to the very end, she did more good than harm.

Amen

Bloody Christmas, here again.
Let us raise a loving cup:
Peace on earth, goodwill to men,
And make them do the washing-up.
--Wendy Cope

A Defeat for Peace

...but, a victory for dessert.

For, last night, while everyone else was having a global orgasm for peace on the winter solstice, I was busy making cookies for a Christmas party.

So, world peace is postponed for yet another year, because I just had to bake my oatmeal-and-chocolate-chip cookies. I'm so selfish. And full.

Womanly Duties

me: "I would so marry her, if I were straight."
friend: "Who?"
me: "Dana Scully."
friend: "From The X-Files?"
me: "The very same."
friend: "Hmmm... that's interesting."
pause
me: "Of course, she's also to blame for my condition."
friend: "Condition?"
me: "Yeah, the whole gay thing."
friend: "How so?"
me: "Well, she left the kitchen, so-to-speak."
friend: "Huh?"
me: "She defied those who said God intended women to cook, make babies, and obey their husbands. She destroyed traditional family, and with it came such morally degenerate consequences... like gay sex, abortion, the Borg, and all of San Francisco."
friend: "You don't say? All because of Dana Scully?"
me: "Yeah. Plus Nancy Pelosi, The West Wing, and my boyfriend's short stature."
friend: "So, Dana Scully - a fictional character who didn't marry, had a weird alien baby or two out of wedlock, and was a brilliant pathologist-turned-FBI agent - made you gay?"
me: "Yeah. Like a light switch. I was like, 'She has a FBI badge! Now I like men!'"

For a woman, she's SO hot.

Finally Facing my Waterloo

Yesterday at 3:45AM, I took my boyfriend to the airport so he could see his family over the Christmas holiday. Three hours later, I was also dropping his mobile phone, in a box, into express mail after he forgot to bring it with him to the airport. (On a side note it's quite expensive to express mail a mobile phone... so, I wouldn't recommend it.) While he's gone, I've plenty to keep me busy - a mountain of fish to genotype, a qualifying exam to prepare for, and other such graduate school formalities/challenges/excuses-to-drink. But, of course, since he isn't slated to return until quite late on Christmas, I also needed recreational means to spend my time.

Thus, when I went to Scarecrow Video yesterday to return an Israeli film my boyfriend had rented last week, I decided to be cool. Sure, I'm spending some of "the holidays" alone, but I was going to rent some awesome, kick-ass, generally cool films to watch in my non-graduate-school/non-excuses-to-drink moments before Zach comes home and we can open presents.

So, when I left twenty minutes later with Muriel's Wedding and Casablanca, I obviously had to admit I'm a failure.

But, failure is an excuse to drink the bottle of cheap white wine I've been saving for just such an occasion.

White Elephant

At my lab's Christmas party earlier today, my boyfriend got to choose a present before me. He ended up unwrapping a generous supply of milk and dark chocolate, fashioned into medical bandages. In my most masculine voice, I dared any of my labmates (or their spouses and children) to try to deprive us of that bounty. No one did.

It took such an effort on my part to throw together that threatening, masculine tone for my warning that I was pretty sure I was completely drained of testosterone. But, I must've had a reserve supply in place, for ten minutes after my boyfriend unwrapped that pile of (medical-themed) chocolate, I found myself again daring the crowd to deprive me of the white elephant gift I had chosen...

...which was a children's friendship bracelet kit and sequin set.

For the record, though a few labmates with young children were tempted to take my glorious pot-o-gold from me, none ultimately tried. They must have known that their restraint will pay off with a New Years gift of labmate friendship bracelets.

Collision, Part 2

after accidentally smacking heads, while lying together on the sofa:
Zach: "Your big HEAD got in the way, genius!"
me: "Oh, that's rich - coming from the freakin' BREECH BABY!"

Collision

My birthstate strikes again... in my boyfriend's birthstate.

Caffeine

This year's Christmas cards include a first for me: I've decided to send one to the baristai (baristas?) that keep myself and my fellow scientists thoroughly caffeinated. They are, after all, entirely responsible for my most productive moments, and most alarming moments of clarity, as a graduate student.

But why are you sitting on your duff reading this drabble? You should be watching this!

The Life I Lead

The other night, I went out for a few drinks with a friend of mine. I told him how, in retrospect, many of the more pivotal moments in my life have come about almost by chance... serendipity, if you will. I could spend hours reciting the events of my life that have come about by chance events... my first move to Seattle (which led to my permanent move here a year later) is a perfect example. I was applying for summer research internships during my junior year of college. I had chosen institutions all throughout the Midwest to send out applications. Yeah, the Midwest. I was raised there, after all. And I am, at the core, something of a homebody. But, a chance meeting with a classmate led to the discussion of her summer plans, and how she was also looking for research internships - only this time in more far-flung locales. A research institution in Seattle was top on her list and, ten minutes later, was top on mine (except I had two days to get the application and recommendation letters in). I knew nothing of Seattle (save for a forgettable Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks romantic comedy), and had never been west of a small town on the Wyoming-Nebraska border (which I spend fifteen minutes in to buy supplies while taking a field fossil excavation course in extreme western Nebraska). I couldn't have been less educated about the city that I now call home, and ended up going there solely on the ten-minute sales pitch this friend, after a chance encounter, gave me.

Anyway, a few nights ago, I was telling all this to my friend. I told him how many of the more important events in my adult life came about largely by chance. I was in the right place, at the right time. His jaw agape, I told him how I actually took comfort in such a chance-driven existence. Once I explained further, he seemed to understand - and even identify - with my point of view. On some level, he could even identify with the solace I took in the subtle dance chance and choice play in how my life has unfolded thus far.

It's an intriguing existence. I find myself wholly uncomfortable with the notion that my the entirety of my existence has one, perfect, complete path which I must, to the best of my ability, strive for. I'm uncomfortable with this paradigm since, even in the dark depths of my personal psychology, I can conceive of no perfect, righteous path for myself. I do not, and right now cannot, believe that I have one singular destiny - one true path for myself. I am not comfortable with the assertion that I can only be one type of person - with one profession, one existence. I cannot accept that I have a singular fate... but, not because I fear such a path... Instead, I cannot fathom that the choices I've made in this world are supposed to lead me to this fate.

I cannot imagine that so many of the serendipitous choice I've made in my life have accounted for so much in the long run. One day in college, I decided to get to leave class ten minutes early, mostly because I didn't think highly of the instructor... and, in that instance, I ran into a classmate, talked with her about the summer internships she was applying to, and decided that I should apply to this Seattle internship as well. One New Years Eve, I chose to work the evening shift at one of my jobs - a cashier at a local clothing store... three hours later, I met the man buying ugly ties (a man who, as of July, I entered into a domestic partnership with). One day several years ago, I made myself fight a splitting headache and aching back long enough to attend a local scientific seminar, and ended up meeting the woman who is now my graduate thesis advisor. These were instances that have had a profound affect on my life... yet I made them with the careless flippancy with which I choose a candy bar at the grocery store six blocks north of my apartment building.

Thus, I can't accept a world in which I'm destined for one path... because, if such a path existed, surely I've strayed from it already. I can't live in a world where every choice I make is critical for staying on that path; after all, I haven't taken every choice seriously. I want (and have) to believe that my world, and my happiness within it, is not just shaped by my comfort in what is, but also in what might-have-been. If I hadn't chosen to become a biologist rather than a geologist, I have to believe I'd still be at least somewhat satisfied with that professional outcome. If I'd chosen not to go to my job as a cashier that New Years Eve years ago (and therefore not have met the man who has been my boyfriend and best friend these past four years) - and it pains me even to fathom this possibility - I have to believe he and I would still lead happy, fulfilling lives. Is my boyfriend good for me? Absolutely. But, is he the only man who would ever be good for me? I can't accept that notion, particularly since the moment in which I met him was so randomly chosen.

Tomorrow morning, I will get up and attend a six-hour seminar on the latest in developmental biology... because I'm a graduate student. And I'm a graduate student because (one New Years Eve) I went to work as a cashier and met a short (but highly flirtatious) man buying ugly ties, and because I walked out of class one day and let a friend talk me into moving to Seattle for a summer research internship, and because I fought off a headache long enough to meet my future thesis advisor. There are other reasons, too. GRE scores and a nearly straight-A college GPA helped, no doubt. But, I have to believe that my life could have also easily (and perhaps rightly) taken another turn - where, instead of waking up tomorrow morning to attend a six-hour seminar on the latest in developmental biology, I'll instead wake up in Iowa to work the Saturday morning shift as a cashier in the local T.J. Maxx. I have to believe that the random, flippant choices I've made haven't counted for the life or death of my destiny. I must believe that the God I pray to isn't naïve or shortsighted enough to put that much faith into the choices of a superficial, limited primate.

But, such a harsh, choiceless existence is, as I age, proving harder and harder to accept. Particularly on nights like tonight. Tonight, as we've done on many nights lately, my boyfriend and I meet at our home - our small apartment wedged in a nameless neighborhood between Seattle's Northgate and Green Lake neighborhoods. I came home later than he expected, and we took a walk up to the pan-Asian grocery store six blocks north of our apartment. Then, after we returned, my boyfriend drugged our asthmatic cat (a pet he chose, I might add, based solely on her attractive tabby coat and docile nature), and I made potato pancakes. We watched re-runs of The West Wing, I drank white wine, and we sat in our living room, laptops on lap (searching Google and Wikipedia), while we debated furiously over who Senator Barack Obama might pick as his running mate, should he win the Democratic Party's nomination for President of the United States.

An hour later, after he drifted off to blog about classical music, and I drifted off to compose this entry, I now find myself at odds with my previous, proud, and harsh philosophy... this philosophy that states that I could have had many fruitful and enjoyable existences... and that therefore the choices I've made (particularly the random ones) have amounted to little. I find that belief now sad, barren, and entirely far from the truth - for I cannot fathom an evening more perfect, more divine, and more predestined than this evening. This evening of potato pancakes, vice-presidential picks, our failure of a housepet, and my ugly-tie-buying boyfriend. This cannot be an accident; and this cannot equal what-might-have-been. It is where I was meant to be... Right here, and right now. This life I lead.

Maryland

One of my labmates today told me he's moving on - moving to another lab... in Maryland. I got excited for him.

I wanted to tell him all the wonderful things we all know about Maryland, including (but not limited to):
1. Maryland was the seventh state to ratify the federal Constitution.
2. Maryland was one of four slave states that did not secede from the Union in the Civil War.
3. Annapolis is named for Queen Anne.
4. Maryland itself is named for Henrietta Maria, Queen Consort to King Charles I.
5. President Lincoln suspended the write of habeus corpus in Maryland during the Civil War.

I didn't tell him these things, though. I instead recalled what is likely the most persistent complaint about me - my wealth of useless trivia. I've been reminded of this fact quite a lot lately... from my friends, co-workers, fellow students, and even gentle proddings from my boyfriend and my advisor. So, I congratulated my co-worker, buttoned my lip from further commentary, walked back to my desk, and sat down.

Five minutes later, I couldn't hold back any further. I grabbed the nearest post-it note, scribbled down items 1 and 4 from the above list, and delivered the precious document to his desk.

I need help.

But Not a Drop to Drink

All day today, the world was ending. Yet, my boyfriend and I just had to get to our respective jobs. So, he drove me as close to South Lake Union as he could, and I bundled up in my sole (and apparently woefully inadequate) raincoat, and hiked through local floods, all so I could try to be a scientist.

Here are the three e-mails I wrote him this morning:

8:34AM
So my pants were thoroughly drenched by the time I got from your car to the lab. I decided to change temporarily into my emergency pants and flip-flops, to give my pants and boots some time to dry. I've upgraded my emergency clothes from last time, so thankfully it's my racing-stripe jeans that I'm stuck wearing. But now, for the pants, it's looking like a permanent arrangement... since, while changing, I accidentally stepped on one leg of my wet pants as I attempted to lift them up. Thus, I now have a hole in my pants, running from the crotch to a point appropriately where my anus would go - a hole now big
enough to shove my iBook G4 through. I hung my pants in my advisor's office, because she's out of town and I'm too embarrassed to show other people. The contents of my backpack are also 20% wet, due to water leaking through the zipper.
I also haven't painted my toenails in weeks, so they look pretty horrid.
Love,
-J

9:07AM
By the way, that failed coup against President Chavez I mentioned this morning was in 2002, not 2000. My bad.
-J

10:36AM
Also, I just discovered a leak in the roof right over my desk.
-J

And here's my boyfriend's reply:
1:07PM
Nice.

I think he would've been more impressed, but he hadn't yet seen me fit an iBook G4 through that hole.

Noninfectious Enthusiasm

Zach: "This is a REAL homecooked meal I'm preparing here."
me: "Uh... you're cooking a casserole... Over my objections, I might add."
pause
Zach: "Yeah, but it's still homecooked..."
me: "How? As homecooked as all those times I went to the farmers market, and came home and cooked you all those meals from fresh ingredients?"
pause
Zach: "Well no. But we had these a lot when I was little. And all the ingredients come from cans."
me: "So, do you want to talk yourself out of this hole now, or later?"
Zach: "I'd rather not have to talk myself out of it now. So, later."
pause
Zach: "But hey, all these cans are recyclable!