| Date: | 2007-01-10 12:10 |
| Subject: | Duke v Georgia Tech |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  geeky | | Music: | Fight Blue Devils Fight |
The following is a MattSports exclusive preview for Duke at Georgia Tech, January 10 2007.
Tonight at 7 PM, the Devils go down to Georgia to take on the Yellow Jackets in Atlanta. Duke (13-2, 0-1 ACC) is coming after a hard-fought loss at home to Virginia Tech, while Georgia Tech (11-4, 0-2 ACC) looks to bounce back from a road loss to the undefeated Clemson Tigers. Despite an inferior record and sitting 57th in the nation in RPI, Paul Hewitt's team is ranked 20th overall by Ken Pomeroy's pythagorean method, thanks to some impressive offensive numbers. Led by a pair of freshmen: 6-8 freshman forward Thaddeus Young (27 min/g, 14.7 ppg) and 6-5 point guard Javaris Crittenton (29.1 min/g, 13.9 ppg, 6.0 apg), Georgia Tech has scored 84.4 points per contest, at an offensive efficiency that ranks 7th in the nation. However, this high-powered offense will surely miss the presence of 6-6 sophomore swingman Lewis Clinch (20.2 min/g 13.2 ppg), who was suspended for the remainder of the season for violating the university's honor code. Still, there are few easy road games in the ACC, and this will be a challenge for the young Blue Devils.
When Duke Has the Ball
Duke's oft-criticized offensive ability will be under the microscope as the university looks to avoid back to back league losses. Turnovers have been the story so far for Coach K's young squad, and the loss to VT was a prime example. The Blue Devils had their highest turnover rate of the season, wasting 31.8% of their possessions, including six each by point guard Greg Paulus and pass-happy big man Josh McRoberts. This resulted in one of the least efficient offenses of the season for Duke, though their offensive rebounding, free throw rate, and effective field goal percentage all were average for Duke this season. Overall the offense has a very slow tempo, ranked 272nd out of 318 Division I schools, at just 60 possessions per game. When adjusted for this tempo, Duke's offense actually ranks a respectable 46th in the nation. McRoberts and Paulus are joined by junior swingman DeMarcus Nelson as the three players on the team with above average Offensive Ratings (100 is average). When Duke doesn't turn the ball over (as they do on 24% of their possessions, 263nd in the nation), they are very efficient in their scoring and getting to the free throw line (14th in the nation in FTRate). One area of excellence is in 3 point shooting: though Duke only shoots from behind the arc 28.5% of the time (283rd in the nation), they make their long range shots at an impressive 40.6% (26th in nation). This is led by Greg Paulus' extraordinary 50% rate from trey land.
Georgia Tech's defense is above average, at a tempo-adjusted 40th in the nation. They have induced a turnover on 24% of possessions (eerily like Duke's offensive total, and 81st in the nation), due in large part to a very good knack for getting a steal. Crittendon causes a steal on 3.7% of possessions, but the star is senior guard Mario West, at an outstanding 5.4% of possessions, 12th in the nation among those with 40% of minutes played. Junior bigman Ra'Sean Dickey anchors the paint with a block on 7.5% of possessions, good for the top 75 in the nation (for comparison, Shelden Williams had a block in 9.5% of Duke's possessions in 2006). The story for Georgia Tech has been their ability to limit the opponent's offensive efficiency: in their four losses, they have averaged an awful defensive efficiency of 120, while they've played outstanding defense in many of their wins, such as holding Purdue to an efficiency 85.5 on a neutral court. Strongly tied to their defensive efficiency is their ability to force turnovers and their ability to limit the other team's effective field goal percentage, whether it be strong perimeter defense, shot blocking, or limiting the opponents’ chances at the free throw line. Duke has the potential to dominate this matchup if they can keep the turnovers down, especially since the 6-10 McRoberts and 7-1 frosh Brian Zoubek will be the tallest men whenever they’re on the court. Pounding the ball inside and getting Dickey and West into foul trouble would go a long way in this game. If, however, Crittenton and West are able to get into passing lanes and make things difficult for Paulus and the other Duke guards, the resulting transition offense for Tech may be too much to handle for the Blue Devils. When Georgia Tech Has the Ball As mentioned, statistically speaking the Yellow Jackets have an offense that is among the best in the nation. Their most elite ability is that of the offensive rebound, which they gather on 43.4% of their possessions (4th in the nation). Their team 2-point shooting percentage is ninth in the nation, and they are also adept at avoiding the block. Some weaknesses for this defense are in turnovers; while nowhere near Duke in the rankings, a turnover in 21.1% of possessions is not ideal. Free throws are also a problem: not only do they not get to the line very much (23.5%, 200th) but once there, a lot of bricks fly (66.5% FT, 227th). Crittenton directs the offense and has an assist on 32.5% of his possessions, 53rd in the nation. Scoring most frequently goes through Young; he takes 27% of his team’s shots while on the court. Overall, their offense is strong and efficient, with seven men holding offensive ratings greater than 100. However, their rating may be inflated due to some cupcake games early on against Winston Salem State and Georgia State. The loss of Clich must also be mentioned while using their statistics to make predictions. However, Georgia Tech still maintained an above average offense (110 rating) in their one point loss at Clemson, without Clinch. Duke’s defense is much lauded and for good reason, making this an intriguing matchup. The story here is perimeter defense: Duke is #1 in the country in opponent 3 point field goal percentage, fourth in the nation in opponent’s percentage of shots from behind the arc (just 25%), and is complemented by a solid steal and block percentage. Adjusted for the slow tempo at which Duke has been playing, their defensive rating is first in the nation. In the only statistic that truly matters, Duke has limited its opponents to a staggering 54.4 points per game. It is this defense which is crucial to the Blue Devils’ success in Atlanta. In their losses, Duke had two of their three worst defensive performances of the year. A game against Air Force was the third, and Duke was only able to overcome it with their strongest offensive showing of the year. Coach K’s team will need to continue its extraordinary perimeter defense to prevent Crittenton from getting the ball down low, from where most of Georgia Tech’s shots come. Game Plan, Outlook A smart move for Duke would be to run a tall, athletic lineup with McRoberts joined by Lance Thomas (if he has recovered from a foot injury). In addition, they would be wise to limit the minutes of Greg Paulus if his turnovers continue, as a quicker lineup of Nelson, Scheyer, and Henderson would be considerably better on defense. Brian Zoubek has been under-utilized so far this season, and while his size would be beneficial against a shorter GT squad, his raw defensive skills may not be ideal in this situation. Look for Duke to control the pace, as Georgia Tech likes to play a considerably faster game than the Blue Devils. This can only be effective, however, if Duke solves its turnover problems and prevents the Yellow Jacket’s running game. This is going to be one of those close, hard fought ACC road games for Duke. Ken Pomeroy’s prediction is a one point loss for the Blue Devils- basically a toss up. Both teams are coming off heartbreaking losses, both teams have yet to win an ACC contest. In the end, it may be that Duke’s superior ability to get to the free throw line (so long as they shoot better from the stripe than against VT) will be the difference in this game. Duke, 65-60.
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| Date: | 2006-11-27 13:35 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  happy | | Music: | Modest Mouse- The Good times are Killing Me |
So. It's been an interesting few weeks since my last post. Just two months ago I was wondering how I would survive much longer, living by myself and being bored out of my mind during and after work. But then an off-handed comment to a friend started a chain of (mostly unrelated) events that have led me to a place where I'm happy, for the first time since graduation. Rebecca and I have hung out three times now, once each of the last three weeks. All three times have been awesome, and have left a smile on my face for days afterward. Outsiders would probably want to barf after seeing us together, but I think it's sweet. After four years I finally have someone to walk with down the quad, holding hands.... Plus, making out is fun. The only downside is our mutual uneasiness about the near future- she spends a lot of time studying and stuff, and the seeing her once a week is fine by me. But next semester she's doing the Beaufort/Bermuda thing, and no one knows better than me how it feels to have a needy relationship while in that program. (Hint: it sucks.) But hopefully I've learned my lesson on neediness and it won't be that bad. (Yes, that's my head talking, not my heart.) Overall though, things have been so incredibly comfortable with her, and the way we can talk about anything or nothing at all, and the way she looks into my eyes would to get me out of my funk all on its own.
Of course, it wasn't on its own. Just as confidence-driving as attention from female sources was attention from graduate school sources. Visits to Maryland and GWU had me very excited about doing research again, specifically evolution research. Right now if I got accepted to both programs I'd choose GWU, even though Maryland is more money; the professor at GWU described lab research on the genetic causes of speciation, field research on reciprocal transplants of hybridizing species, and some theoretical work on speciation as well. All three projects interest me more than what the guy at Maryland was talking about.
Duke is a wild card in this process... of the schools I'm applying to it is definitely the most selective, the most prestigious, and the most money (when COL is taken into account). I would be happy to go back and work with Shaw, trying to create a model system for speciation in bryophytes... just like I had planned at this time last year. I'd have to go back and see the faces of the people who voted against me last year, and being in that situation in a competitive program would motivate me to stick it to them for rejecting me the first time. I really do like living in Durham; I never will be a big-city boy, and I'm comfortable here. For the hypotheticals, if accepted to all schools, Duke would beat Maryland easily... GWU would be harder to turn down, and some serious soul searching would be involved (not to mention the thousands of words I'd probably write in here).
I'm also applying to UC-Santa Barbara, though I'm not entirely sure I'm willing to cross the country for science. Two months ago I thought that would be an easy thing to do, I was bored and lonely in Durham anyway, what would another few thousand miles from home matter. Now, I'm not so sure... potentially living near most of my old friends in DC or the new friends I've made in Durham is pulling me strongly. I already sent them money, so I'm gonna complete the application. But at this moment in time, if only UC-SB accepted me, I'd have a tough time even leaving this job to go there. But of course I'd let them fly me out there to convince me otherwise...
So morale is high in Mattland today. Promising graduate school options. A pseudo (proto? pre? de facto?) girlfriend. A kitten to play with. Hosting a successful thanksgiving with family and friends. Unfortunately, many sunny days in Mattland are shrouded by conversation not about how things are great today, but by inference that if it's sunny today, black clouds may not be far off. Such is the life of a relentless cynic.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
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Fighting a turn based battle is extremely frustrating. We were fighting a battle against a Red Wolf, near Figaro Castle. I was anxious, watching Terra go through some ridiculously convoluted magic attack, only to knock off just 20 HP from the creature. Edgar was more successful, but got hit with a massive counterattack. Now it was my turn. I ran up to the beast and swung at it, hoping to steal something good.... and I missed! Great. Now I've got to wait another five turns to get revenge, and all I can do is just stand here? And who's playing that awful 16-bit music, anyway? Ugh, there she goes on another useless magic attack...
Waaaamp Waaamp Waaamp Waaaamp went my alarm clock at 7:42 AM, rudely interrupting my dream. I should have known that morning was coming because I get slowly more conscious, and I should have realized that I was not, in fact, Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI. I fought off the comforter in which I was tangled and rolled off my bed, gradually becoming aware that my right arm was asleep. I didn't fully realize this until I tried to put my weight on it, which immediately resulted in me falling over, bouncing off the bed and onto the floor. Waaaamp Waaamp Waaamp Waaaamp the alarm was still going, and I limped over and finally shut it off.
So it was a day that started out like any other day, as I made the agonizing decision of whether to rinse out one of my dirty bowls and eat some cereal, or wait till I got to work and get myself a breakfast sandwich. Laziness and hunger for protein made me choose the latter, and I left my apartment. Autumn lasts much longer here than back home, I realized on my drive. The leaves had started to change color a month ago, but very few leaves had fallen. The air was still crisp and the sky perfectly clear, like I remembered it being lying in my backyard when I was 10. The best part is that these great things about autumn aren't immediately replaced with frigid breezes from the north and, worse, snow piling up. Despite entering the middle of November, I was still able to open my moonroof and smell the crisp, yet not chilling air as I sped along I-40.
Arriving at work, I knew it was going to be just like any other Thursday. Since the first step after infecting my plants is a 5 day recovery, the dates to start experiments are limited to the final three days of the work week. Friday was typically the day of choice, which left not much to do on Thursdays, other than set stuff up for the following day's plant mutilation. I decided to start my day in Growth Chamber 13. The transformation group doesn't usually spend a lot of time in the growth chambers, only to punch small holes out of the leaves of the plants for DNA analysis. Eight days ago, this had happened for the first time to a plant I had generated, and I wanted to see how it was doing. It was silly, really, because even if the plant was dead, I'd still get credit for my success because it had already been sampled. But I went anyway, and there it was sitting in a 12 inch wide black pot. It had grown a lot since the last time I'd seen it. The stem wound about a foot up the stake in the middle of the pot, and it already had a new triplet of leaves above the others that had been punched for sampling.
Looking at the plant, I imagined that I could go in and examine for myself the genome of this organism, to see if I had been successful. The best place to check would be the meristem cells, as these would be actively dividing, the DNA readily available for examination. Surely there would be Agrobacterium around, its graceful flagella falling along the contours of some cell, immobile. The bacterium would have died weeks ago, upon my application of Timentin. Sure, this Agrobacterium was essential in transfering the gene into the DNA of my precious soybean plant, but too much bacteria is never a good thing. It was probably not a fun death, as Timentin prevents the utilization of lactose, and the poor bug would have starved. Hopefully, it had managed to execute its special ability before then. Injecting the weakened-tumor inducing plasmid into the cell, the cell's own machinery would translate the new DNA into an enzyme which would transport the plasmid into the nucleus and insert it somewhere in the genome. I was anxious to discover if that event had occurred.
Leaving Growth Chamber 13, I walked back to my desk and checked my e-mail.... and there it was! TaqMan results! I quickly opened the e-mail and saw there were 6 attachments, all with results from about 300 plants, only one of which I cared about. Of course, I searched through the first five and didn't find my plant, and came upon the sixth.... scrolling down, scrolling down, and there... MJ-7.... Copy Number... 1! What this anticlimactic point of data was showing was that according to their tests, there was one copy of the gene of interest in my plant! I had done it, I had singlehandedly (well, with the help of the Agrobacterium, but they were dead now) changed the genome of another organism. The other scientists soon stopped by or sent e-mails to congratulate me. It was a fine accomplishment for someone who had never touched a plant cell culture in his life prior to taking this job, and here's a transgenic plant from the very first experiment I ever did. It either proves that I'm a natural, or that any fool with some knowledge of plants can use this method to get transgenic soybeans. I'm leaning towards the latter.
In any event I've got to repeat this about 99 more times before next July in order to truly prove that I've got what it takes in this profession. But this is a good start. So today started out normally, but it is a very good day. Tomorrow... well tomorrow should be an even better day, for completely different reasons.
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Why Halloween is the Worst Holiday
By: Matt J.
Period 8 English
October 31, 2006
Halloween is the holiday where you gather with your friends, wear disguises, and get candy. While you might think this is a good thing, I think these activities make Halloween the worst holiday. In this essay I will show you why Halloween is dangerous. It is dangerous because it promotes mischief. It is dangerous because it encourages you to be who you are not. It is also dangerous because candy will make you unhealthy.
First, Halloween is dangerous because people feel they can get away with vandalism on or near Halloween. You might think that throwing eggs or pumpkins or toilet paper is harmless fun. But eggs can destroy paint on a car, and destroying Jack-o-Lanterns created by little kids is mean and makes them cry. At any other time of year, kids would be arrested for trespassing, graffiti, and littering. But at Halloween, these acts are encouraged and rewarded with laughter. That is wrong and makes Halloween a bad holiday.
Halloween rewards people for pretending to be something they are not. I feel this is a problem with society where they feel insecure and need to change in order to fit in. It means that people have to be fake in order to be accepted, and that is wrong. You are not a lion or a basketball player, you are a little boy. Then some girls use it as an excuse to dress inappropriately, and others are tempted to use racist or hateful costumes to get a laugh. Do they act differently because it is Halloween? Is it an opportunity where being hateful is acceptable? I think so, and it's why Halloween is the worst.
Finally there is the candy. Do you think it's okay to go around begging for food that will make you fat and make your teeth rot out of your stupid head? Like there isn't a problem with fat in this country already. We were told all year to eat right and exercise or to work hard for our money to buy ourselves food. Now every October we can go around and beg and get fatty foods that make it all pointless. And then there are the houses that give out toothbrushes. Why do they think they are better than everyone else. Plus it is bad for parents who try to calm their children down when they are too excited by all the candy that they have been given because they are conforming to the culture of Halloween.
In conclusion, I have shown you why Halloween is the worst holiday. It is bad because it promotes mischief, it rewards people for being fake, and it fattens our children. If we do not put a stop to this dangerous Halloween culture, America will be scarred forever.
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Ahhh, don't eat any spinach or it will kill you!!!!1!1!1!!one!!
So, the FDA director "cannot rule out" terrorist activity as an explanation for the E. Coli outbreak. To me, that means the culprit is clear: Bluto. His wikipedia page claims he "displays some ability for tactical planning." Neutralizing Popeye by tainting the country's spinach supply? Some ability, indeed! Unfortunately, it means some crucially inconvenient cramping and diarrhea for the nation's thousands of Cobb Salad eaters. Now, if I were to pick an activity to induce terror into the American people, lacing vegetables with a bacteria would definitely be my top choice. Perhaps this is just a test, and they will follow up with bubonic plague in our brussel sprouts or something. While I cannot officially condone any kind of terrorist activity, I must say I am sympathetic to their cause. Be patient, fellow vegetable haters- your victory is at hand! Soon, the green tyranny will be over!
This should serve to freak out the same people who were freaked out by the bird flu, mad cow disease, and getting cancer from cell phones. Mostly these people are characterized by their addiction to the cable news networks: "Next on CNN: Death! But first, commercials." I must admit, however, that I have had some pangs of a situation like in The Sheep Look Up. Tainted food supplies, terrorist activities, groups advocating "natural, organic" foods that are supposedly better but end up killing you anyway... we're nowhere near that point, but its something to think about. Man, that was the scariest book I've ever read.
I should probably get back to my job, which I consider to be my small part in exacting revenge for 22 years of vegetable oppression. Every week, I torture and wound 200 baby soybean plants. Most of them don't survive the torture, and those that do are subjected to the inevitable bacterial infections that have plagued most of my experiments. I guess I should feel bad, as I recently learned that plants could have feelings- tested in an episode of Mythbusters I saw recently. Apparently, in the 1960s, this polygraph expert Cleve Baxter decided to test a plants' response to physical and mental stresses when hooked up to a polygraph. As demonstrated on Mythbusters, the polygraph did jump when the plant was slapped repeatedly, and when it was shot with a fire extinguisher. This of course, proves that plants do have feelings, and they lie about it.
Wouldn't the revelation of feeling plants cause the basis of the already hypocritical vegan argument to crumble?About 90% of of the vegans I've ever met use some sort of argument based on inhumane (read: not human, savagely animal, even) treatment of animals, including their slaughter. This is of course, based in the belief that animals have some sort of feelings, that they experience not only physical pain but also some kind of emotional response. The debate on whether even other primates, much less other mammals or other animals have emotions, rages on. Central Nervous System doesn't appear to be the main sticking point either; most vegetarians won't eat shellfish either, despite their completely different nervous response. I guess its mostly based in the "twitching factor," if something is twitching because of a physical provocation, it shouldn't be killed, since it has feelings. Or something like that. Most of these people have no problem smacking mosquitoes (which have nervous systems similar to the PETA-protected lobster) from their tender arms, either.
For the record, from my mighty pedestal of morality I can see two acceptable justifications for vegetarian and vegan lifestyles: simply not liking the taste of meat, or for health reasons. I happen to find animals very tasty, but in general cooked vegetables make me want to vomit. Also I can understand not wanting the generous fat content of most meats, and my biology classes have taught me that it is much more efficient to eat plants than to eat herbivores, and much more efficient than eating carnivores. There are only a few vegans whose entire platforms seem in the least bit consistent, and they supplement their cruelty to animals positions with figures about all the land we're wasting growing food for animals we slaughter, and all the methane that cows release into the atmosphere. I fully support awareness and education about the natural world. But using mistreatment of cattle as justification for not eating said cattle, yet munching away at the cheese and milk they produce under the same supposedly cruel conditions (or using any authentic leather product, for that matter)-- sorry, that's hypocritical. Thanks for playing.
Plants, meanwhile, are organisms too. They move (albeit slowly), and are extremely sensitive to stress. Without looking up the numbers, I'm guessing billions of tons of plants are grown every year expressly for the intent of consumption. They are routinely packed together in horrible numbers, and are plastered with tons of chemicals like pesticides, herbicides, fungicides. Then they are mass murdered by a machine. How is that not "inhumane"? Just because plants aren't cute and don't have a nervous system that causes them to twitch when injured? I demand equal rights for all organisms!
You might protest because if we couldn't eat animals or plants, what would we eat? We'd all die. Have no fear, I have a solution, that is simple, elegant, and completely devoid of organic material. One word: SPAM.
I'm one tough Gazookus
Which hates all Palookas
Wot ain't on the up and square.
I biffs 'em and buffs 'em
And always out roughs 'em
But none of 'em gets nowhere.
If anyone dares to risk my "Fisk",
It's "Boff" an' it's "Wham" un'erstan'?
So keep "Good Be-hav-or"
That's your one life saver
With Popeye the Sailor Man.
Toot TOOOOT!
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I had been planning to write something retrospective on the five year anniversary of 9/11/2001. I wanted to do it without getting political. Each time I got to about 500 words and then got really pissed off, and erased what I had. No one was thinking about politics for at least a week after it happened. And now, its impossible to think about without blaming people, regardless of which side you're on. That's really a shame. I've shed many tears in the five years since, beginning with the morning of September 12, 2001, when I wasn't in shock, when I awoke to fighter jets over my house, when I realized it wasn't a dream. But yesterday I got choked up not at a 9/11 tribute, but by stumbling across the list of US Fatalities in the Middle East since 2003. The number is about to crack 3,000, which would exceed the number of people killed in the terrorist attacks. My heart sinks for those men and women right now. The real world may have killed the romantic in me and dulled the idealist, but the pacifist in me is alive and it is sad.
Now that I've soured my own mood, I thought I'd continue the rest of the post in the style of Stephen Colbert, and with some fun from Google Maps.
Tip O'The Hat/Wag O'The Finger
Tip of the Hat to the Florida Marlins, whose very presence in the 2006 NL Wild Card race is exhibit A in the rebuttal to all the "Yankees are Bad for Baseball" arguments. On the other hand, it will be really sad to see less than 10,000 people at a playoff game. They need to move to Raliegh- that'd be awesome.
Wag of the Finger to whomever designed the building where I work. We've been trying to move part of our lab to another room, since the Soybean Transformation group has grown from 5 to 10 in the last three months (including me). Problem is, the rooms on the north side of the building are smaller than the rooms on the south side of the building. Why? Because someone thought it would be cute to make the building an arc, because originally the building held the Agricultural Research Center (ARC). It also has the effect walking through the clean, white, curved hallways like I'm in the movie Andromeda Strain, running to shut off the nuclear device before it goes off, dodging tranquilizer darts.
Tip of the Hat to DVR, which has quickly become the new winner of "Devices you didn't know you needed, but now can't live without" award of the Century. I mean, we could have guessed that we would need computers, and cell phones. But DVR? The ability to watch stuff when I want to, not when the cable companies want me to? The ability to fly through commercials to the point that watching live TV like is annoying? Absolutely incredible.
Wag of the Finger to the intersections and traffic lights at Fayetville Road/NC 54/I-40. I know I'm incredibly lucky already that I have a less than 10 minute commute on an interstate where I've had exactly one day of heavy traffic (in 36 work days). But you are the only thing standing in my way of having the perfect commute. Now, I understand that this intersection is immensely complicated, and probably took three guys with PhDs in Traffic Management (or whatever) about ten yearst to get it right. But still, I have to refer to it as the intersection of doom- If I were to pick an intersection at which I was likely to have a fatal car accident, that would be the one. The people coming off I-40 and turning left onto Fayetteville Road have to drive on the left, into what appears to be oncoming traffic. At night, its insanity. It seems to work though, and I have a bit of respect for the traffic management people. But those lights still annoy the crap out of me.
And now, my current boards for Dead to Me and On Notice:
On Notice
David Americo Ortiz Arias (I normally like him, but his comments about the MVP amount to a lot of whining)
Family Guy (for not being funny, at all, since their return)
Andy Roddick (the US wants a new tennis star to root for... and you choked, again)
Peyton Manning (no, I don't like 6-2 QBs with rocket arms... who do dumb commercials)
Steve Irwin bashers
The Sacrifice Bunt (unless its the ninth in a tie game with runners on first and second and no outs)
Tombstone pizzas
Greenpeace (for organizing anti-GMO protests)
Bacteria (at least those that infect my soybean cultures)
Manual pencil sharpeners (I'll get my revenge some day, and it will be swift and just.)
Dead to Me
The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Adam Sandler (since Spanglish)
David Spade (since Chris Farley died)
Emo
Barry Bonds
pineapples
Joe Lieberman
Pearl Jam
Cable News Networks
hockey
Baseball owners who don't use their revenue sharing money
Head On (Apply directly to the forehead! Apply directly to the forehead!)
All right, that's enough. Now, a meeting with my boss to fill out my TTC (I don't know what that stands for)... basically I'll set goals to determine what will constitute my "Did My Job" stat for 2006. The reward for doing my job is a bonus in March.
PS: why does the icon for "thirsty" look like a blood sucking vampire? I'm thirsty for water, not souls, I promise.
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Today is August 31, 2006. Today marks exactly 110 days since I graduated from college. Just one week later, a school 8 miles down the road had its graduation. One of those walking to Pomp and Circumstance was Andrew Miller, a pitcher for the UNC baseball team who, one month later, would lead the team to a College World Series victory. Meanwhile, he was drafted by the Detroit Tigers and signed a multi-million dollar contract that included a stipulaion that he pitch in the majors in 2006. Sure enough, yesterday he took the mound at Yankee Stadium with his team trailing 2-0, and retired Johnny Damon and Derek Jeter en route to a scoreless debut. Which got me on a familiar train of thought: people my age (or younger) doing impressive things, and I'm stuck writing in Journals in between long sessions of mutilating plants.
The first instance of this probably came freshman year, when we realized that LeBron James was about to be the first pick in the 2003 NBA draft. "There goes my chance to be a basketball star," said Sam. Athletics is definitely the most common field for these humbling realizations to occur; after all, Jonathan Clay Redick is just one month older than me, and he already has an entire state (Maryland) loathing his very existence. Many of the participants in this year's World Cup are younger than me, as is the man who will face Andre Agassi in his last match ever tonight. This should not be surprising to me, but it is, every time I think about it. There are people my age with talents in many areas that I do not possess, and I should not feel bad about that. One common thought, after the humbling reaction to a famous person's age, is to think what I would be like if our positions were switched. Could I handle the international spotlight of a James or Redick? Is it any wonder that many of these athletes burn out socially before they reach drinking age?
It would be one thing if it were limited to professional athletics- the drive towards elite athleticism began long ago. If I were to define fame as "having a wikipedia page," then the next most populous group is models; somehow, I don't feel humbled for not making it as a swimsuit model by 22. Other forms of entertainment come next (Charlotte Church) or those who have had the benefit of being born into an extremely rich family ( Alexa Ray Joel). No problems there. Then I come across something like this guy, who was also born in 1984. Why couldn't I have sold thousands of books in which I claim to be a mind reader? This sounds like something well within my expertise.
Before Miller's appearance at Yankee Stadium, last "well, I'm old" humbling moment, was a few weeks ago, and was a ton more severe. In catching up on news of the transatlantic bombing threat which led to the ban of liquids and gels on all flights, I came across this list of suspects arrested in the case. Of the 20 or so people arrested, 6 were born in 1984 or later (one is younger than even my brother). That, frankly, is scary. I have become a strong supporter of the concept cultural relativism; had I been born on the other side of the planet 22 years ago, it is not unlikely that I would have been involved in a plot like this. "We must be the change we wish to see in the world," wrote Ghandi in a slogan that is printed often, including a button I used to have on my backpack. And those folks are doing just that-- if in a violent way that would have depressed Ghandi. I, on the other hand, have done nothing to be the change I wish to see in the world. In no area would I consider my talent to be on an elite level. Even the areas in which I am above average are not easily applicable to making an impression on a large number of people.
But not everyone can, or should, have a wikepedia page. There were 3,669,141 births in the US alone in 1984. The infant mortality rate in 1985 was 1.06%. Since then, the annual death rate in a country of nearly 300,000,000 has been 0.8% (2.4 million/yr). So the chances that I was dead before I turned 10 greatly outweigh the chances that I would have a wikepedia page (the true measure of fame) at 22. And that's just the US- its much more likely I could have been born into poverty in China, India, or Africa; perhaps born with AIDS and doomed from the start. Now I feel like my own parent, yelling at me not to throw away leftovers because there are people starving in Africa.
Psychoanalysis of this post would be very easy, I imagine. Jealousy is way more powerful than humility, as most Americans know.
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| Date: | 2006-08-07 17:40 |
| Subject: | Preachin to the choir |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  hopeful | | Music: | The Beatles- Ballad of John and Yoko |
Nothing to do. Its 4:05. Can't leave yet, boss will notice. Must pretend like I'm working for the next fifty five minutes. I've been here three weeks now, and I'm not entirely sure how well I'm doing. Its not that I don't know what to do or can't handle the tasks, its that there is absolutely no instant gratification. At the risk of boring you even further, here's exactly what I do: I "plant" seeds in a special media that makes them sprout right away. Seven days later, I cut the seedlings in two places, and then jab my scalpel into one end, wounding the plant. Then I put the plant in this culture of bacteria. The bacteria is a kind of plant parasite that is able to change the plants' DNA. We've commandeered this process so that we can insert whatever gene we like, not the ones the bacteria wants to insert. Then the plant goes into the darkness for five days, at which point it is transferred to a media that helps it heal for seven days. Then it is transferred to media that help it grow, every three weeks. It is not until after all of this (about 7-10 weeks) that I will be able to tell if the plants I've already treated were successful. Along the way I'll have plenty of negative feedback (dead plants, contaminations), but no positive feedback. The worst part, is that my boss has a success rate of 1%, best in our lab. That's right, out of the 300 plants I transformed in the last two weeks, its likely that fewer than 3 will be successful. But that's the pace of this science, until someone comes along and improves the process. That will not be me, I'm a lowly Assistant Scientist, above only the Technician on the totem pole/food chain. I nod and take instructions. Its at least a year before I can make any valuable scientific input- by which time I may have moved on to the greener pastures of graduate school. Or not.
Its incredible how much of the company's money I've already spent. They're big into ergonomics here, its worth it to them to spend extra money on tools that won't cause back pain, eye strain, or carpal tunnel, rather than have to pay workman's comp. So for a guy (me) who will be sitting under a filter fume hood 8 hours a day, bent over plant cultures making precise incisions under a microscope, they've had to pony up the big bucks. Like a couple thousand on an ergonomic microscope that adjusts so that I don't have to lean over to look into it, which goes well with the $300 chair that is adjustable in every which way, even can inflate for extra lumbar support. On top of that are my tools, which are super-light titanium surgical forceps and scalpels to the tune of $1000 total. I figure it will be a couple months before the company has broken even on me. That's assuming I get paid ever-- in a typical MJ bonehead move, I left out a digit of my bank account number, so that my direct deposit didn't work on Friday and I was not paid. Now I have to sit around for a paper check, which I'm not sure will actually get to me, because the mail department failed to give me a mailbox until this morning. This better work out- I'm tired of calling my parents and asking for money when I've got a perfectly good job, that I haven't gotten any money from yet.
What else. Arguments with Nicole recently surrounded the nature of my position, after I untactfully asked her if she was okay with me "playing God for a living." Of course a religious person is not going to be okay with that, but for some reason I still need this external validation that what I'm doing is a good thing. To me, the work I am doing is absolutely essential, since with an exploding population, in a few years there will be nearly 10 billion mouths to feed, and improving crops' yield, pest resistance, and nutrition is the only way to do it- we're running out of land. Yet one thing I hadn't thought about when taking this job is that I am now employed by people against whom violent protests have erupted. Genetic engineering is a very sore topic among both sides of the political spectrum- there are religious conservatives who are against tampering with what they believe is God's creation, and there are treehugging hippie types who want their food as "natural" as possible. I don't have much argument for the former group, except that progress needs to be made and religious people are always going to combat scientific achievement.
On the latter group though, I have a pretty firm stance. To me, labelling GMOs is insane- there is no biological difference between the foods that are bioengineered and those that have been bred for thousands of years since the beginning of agriculture. If you want a "natural" food, then go eat some grass- because farmers have been modifying the seed ratios and fruiting times in wheat, rice, maize, soy, and every other crop for centuries. The old method has extreme drawbacks: farmers have to wait for random mutations to produce a desirable effect, or wait for the cumulative effect of some traits that are effect of many genes. For example, the hottest pepper ever was discovered, not bred- a farmer happened upon a mutated jalapeño that by chance was producing 10,000 times as much capsaicin as its parents. But who knows what drawbacks such mutants have- maybe the hot pepper is less nutritious, maybe it turns people's tongues green for three years. What if, instead of waiting for these mutants, we could instead target a specific gene and alter its productivity, or add a beneficial gene of one crop to another? And this could be accomplished in the sterility of a laboratory, where the gene's effects (good and bad) are analyzed before it is released to the public? To me, this is simply the next phase of a process started millennia ago by the first farmers- this group of seeds produced grass that tasted better, that produced more grains, that didn't die from disease.
I made this argument to my plant diversity class, which was full of some of the tree-hugging hippie types. They may have just been polite, but I didn't get much of a disagreement. I also made this argument to the group of scientists who eventually hired me. Said the head of the corn transformation team: "You're preachin to the choir, man." Not until the arguments with Nicole did I realize that there are people who are dedicating their lives to eradicating the kind of benefit I believe I'm providing. While not nearly as extreme as the people opposed to human cloning, stem cell research and the like, I was still forced to learn contingency plans in the event of a violent anti-GMO protest.
Well, a thunderstorm just blinked the power, so that seems like a good signal I should leave.
"I'm just looking for a little peace
But Lord you know it ain't easy
You don't know hard it can be
The way things are going
They're gonna crucify me."
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So I don't know why I can't sleep. Normally, when I can't fall asleep its because I have some immensely stressful thing on my mind. This isn't really the case- most of the stressful money-related issues have been taken care of. And its not like I have any tests or papers due. And yet instead of being horizontal about three feet to my right, I'm stuck in a loop of my web bookmarks. Looking up how to get an NC Drivers License (if I can't get insured in NC w/o a drivers license, but I can't get a drivers license without insurance? they've gone freaking chicken/egg on me). Trying to figure out when the Devil Rays will call up B.J. Upton (interesting fact: Upton's father had the nickname "The Bossman." So when he had a son, it was only natural that young Merlon be nicknamed "Bossman Junior," or B.J.). Stuff like that.
The thing is, I'm five days removed from leaving the house where I was born and raised, pretty much for good. Yes, I've left here before, and for extended months, but this feels different. It feels like the inevitable end of something combined with the promise of unexpected new things. Its like when reading a novel, and you turn the page and out of the corner of your eye you see that the text stops halfway down the right-hand page. You know that some sort of ending is coming soon, and quite probably with some sort of unexpected twist, with some sort of new adventure awaiting beyond the blank space. I approach these chapter ends a few different ways- sometimes, if I've been reading for a while and want to stop at the end of this chapter, because that makes a bit more sense than stopping in the middle of a page. The drawback is if the end of the chapter is indeed a cliff-hanger, will I really be able to put the book down. To prevent this, I usually slow down and savor every word.
On the other hand, sometimes with chapter ends I speed up. I know that something exciting is coming so I just carelessly skip a few paragraphs. In Jules Verne books, this is usually a time-saver. In Kurt Vonnegut books, this is usually a plot-misser. Anyway, that's how I feel with my life right now: getting the job at BASF was the turning of the page, and I saw that there's this blank space in my life that represents the real, final end of childhood and the beginning of Chapter 3: On My Own. I think my problem is that I've been trying to use both of my habits (slowing down and speeding up) simultaneously. While I've enjoyed buying all kinds of crap for my new apartment, really its just Jules Verne-esque descriptive space filler, which I could skip and not lose much from the story.
The parts I'd want to slow down and savor, though, are my last few moments as a dependent. There will be a few meaningful goodbyes, and I don't want to skip over dialogue just because the chapter end is coming; usually the cliff-hangers are revealed by the dialogue. Or it could just be a character describing the scenery.
Then again, describing the scenery is useful too. I'm going to miss how pretty it is up here, how green and blue these Appalachian foothills are, even if they are increasingly filled with the NY/NJ Metro expanding tumor of waste and rudeness. What was 20 years ago a tranquil escape from "Joisey" has become what was undesirable: a tangle of congested roadways, crowded schools, and ever decreasing undeveloped terrain. In 20 more years, I predict that Sussex County will be indistinguishable from monstrosities like Bergen and Passaic. Still, right now I can step outside my house on a clear night and see all the stars I like, an impossible task in any city, even one as low-smog as Durham.
There are benefits to where I'm going, other than the fact that someone there is going to pay me to be a scientist. I'm as comfortable there as I am here, and the roads don't suck so you can actually get where you want to go in a timely fashion. There's a smaller rude/nice people ratio; Southern hospitality is not a myth. I'll be in an area with other Yankee carpetbaggers, and living in an area with a lot of like-minded people is typically a plus. In addition, one product of moving to an area with a much much higher percentage of college graduates is that a much lower percentage of females aged 18-25 will be married with one, perhaps two children. For the record: I am NOT ready to start a family, despite seeing multiple people my age around town pushing strollers.
It turns out that the things on my mind keeping me awake aren't immensely stressful. They're just immense things to think about. This town had a good 22 year run for me-- it provided me with a great education, a solid sense of community, necessary hard life lessons, rewarding (if often brief) friendships, and a well-placed sense of humility. Not bad for a town without its own zip code.
After the end of the chapter, there will be me, living alone and working a 8-5 job for a regular paycheck. There will probably be bouts of loneliness, but I have a confusing history of being lonely even when there are plenty of people around, so who knows. I've had a lot of these chapter ends heading my way, but this one feels different. The white space will be set up by the next seven days, from lunch tomorrow (today) with Courtney right up until my parents leave my apartment to go back north.
Ok, I finally yawned. This is a good sign.
Cause I remember how we drank time together
And how you used to say the stars are forever
And daydreamed about how to make our lives better
By leaving town.... leaving town...
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| Date: | 2006-06-17 22:25 |
| Subject: | Damn you, Court |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  relaxed | | Music: | Wheel In The Sky-Journey |
So life has been pretty boring for me in the month or so since I graduated. The big news, that I've gotten a job, took a good deal of pressure off, and I've started to actually enjoy doing absolutely nothing. The fears about my immediate future have been replaced with apprehension about how I'm going to handle life in the big bad real world, whether I can manage money better than I did in college (not a tough trick), and how long exactly I'll be staying at BASF. But, I'll always have something to think about way too much, I'm sure.
School has ended, so there's no more subbing, which is good, since the last time in particular was exceptionally unnerving. Maybe its because I never spent a period in a general level classroom, but the kids at my high school are disturbingly carefree. Fear of discipline and failing does not unnerve their misbehavior, and they feel free to do whatever they please without consequences. It reminds me once again why I could never teach below the college level, at least in a public school- I cannot tolerate people who do not want to learn. On Monday I think I'm going to call Sally Mae and consolidate my student loans, which effectively ends the government's offer to cancel the loans should I become a science teacher. Its not happening, so I'm going to burn that bridge for the time being.
In the absence of waiting on my seat for a baby-sitting call from my old high school, days have gotten laughingly predictable:
9-10 AM Wake up, watch end of first World Cup game
11- noon Eat, peruse internet
Noon-2 PM Watch 2nd World Cup game
2-3 PM Internet, Video Games, Snack
3-5 PM Watch 3rd World Cup game
5-7 PM Dinner, general family time
7-10 PM Watch Yankees game
10 PM-1AM Poker, poker, poker.
There have been variations from this: went to get a new cell phone, had an eye doctor appointment, Yankees played a day game... but that's the general idea. I don't leave the house, and I don't really mind that. The poker has been going well, and hopefully that continues in my trip to Atlantic City tomorrow. The World Cup has been excellent so far, with a lot of exciting games- baseball will always be my first love, and Duke basketball will always be a passion. But football, the real kind actually played with feet, takes the beauty of baseball and the energy and momentum of college basketball and rolls it into 90 continuous minutes of perfection. Just a ball, and a goal, says Bono in the commercials, and its true: so simple is the best game in the world.
So simple is my life right now too, but I know things are about to get a lot more hectic- driving to Durham twice in the next month, starting my new job, settling in there. Relaxing seems like the best thing I can do. Which brings me to the subject line of this post.
Damn you, Court, for being so right all the time. I really need some sort of application on my computer where I can write what's worrying me and it spits out your wisdom, which I don't always appreciate at the time, but is always right in the long run. I've been cleaning out the desk in my bedroom, since I'm probably taking it with me down to Durham, and I came across the infamous "CK-MJ" file (a folder full of the notes passed between she and I during French III, Pre Calc, and Journalism). Sifting through it, there I was always blinded by short term drama and there you were always seeing the bigger picture and giving me advice I knew was correct, even if I ignored it.
We had lunch two weeks ago, and you saw me with shifty, tired eyes worrying about the near future. I'd been brainwashed by fear of failure, seeing my talented friends both with and without jobs, and I had panicked. But you looked me in the eye and told me it would be okay, that I should be enjoying my nothingness, my world without responsibilities. And damn you Court, you were right. Again.
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Nearly an entire month has passed since my last entry. That's been pretty common for me in the four years I've bounced around on livejournal. Probably, I will regret not jotting down notes of the most significant years in my life, instead writing about problems that no one cares about-- when my friends will all just roll their eyes, just go to lj!. Alternatively I'd try and write about important events and end up not writing as eloquently as the moment deserved. Mostly, there was babbling like this.
It would be a gross understatement to say that a lot has happened in the past month. Shortly after my last entry I helped out at Blue Devil Days, the orientation for high school seniors recently accepted to the university. I felt it was the least I could do to give back, since it was at that very event, talking to people from the biology department, that convinced me that Duke was the right place after all. There were plenty of very ambitious young people there, most with equally ambitious parents with lots of questions. I took special notice of the sort of shy kid hanging back, not asking his own questions but hearing everything- that was me, four years ago. Wide eyed and ready to move on.
What would MJ-2002 think of MJ-2006? The initial reaction would be one of appearance, noting the presence of hair where there was none, and the presence of substantial fat in the midsection where there was none. But there's something different that MJ-2002 might notice about the elder me, the current me. It would be obvious every time there was something even remotely amusing- a smile. The number of times I genuinely smiled in my senior year of high school can't be more than 20, especially in the first half. One night at Big Beers could easily surpass that.
Leaving my last final set the next stage of my final weeks in college- walking back to my car I could only think "Um... what?" and I still cannot put any more accurate words on what I was feeling. Classes and exams and lab work quickly became a memory as the next two weeks were spent living every moment with the incredible friends I've made here. That's the thing- I'm aware now more than ever that my experiences are dictated by the presence and quality of the friends around me. For example, I shed not one single tear at my own high school graduation. In 2001, meanwhile, sitting in the upper bleachers watching two of my best friends graduate, I lost it for a bit. From Thursday night to Monday afternoon, just about anything would set me off. Its the friendships that make the difference, and while its sad that this had to end, I'm glad we crammed so many memories into the last few weeks.
Surreal doesn't begin to explain graduation weekend, and all the events, and all the goodbyes, and all the promises bound to be broken. See, the one thing that MJ-2002 would absolutely hate about me is how cynical I've become. Perhaps that's just part of the territory of growing up, but the romantic in me is nearly completely gone. Replacing it is an outlook on the world that isn't all that more realist, nor is it fully pessimistic. "Haterade" is a good word for it. Anyway, I know from past experiences that within a year or two I will find that many of the friendships I made will have faded due to circumstance; in addition, I expect at least one of my closest friendships to falter, despite best efforts at prevention (see: McHugh, Caitlin). Certainly, things could turn out differently, as I believe I am not as high-maitenance as I once was. At any rate, it is definitely hard to watch person after person walk out of my everyday life and not know when I will see them next, if ever.
In the aftermath, I've been home about 24 hours, and I'm already bored out of my mind. I'm antsy, I'm nervous, I'm as unsure of myself as I was when I was thirteen. As of this moment, I have no job, few friends close by, and no clear plan for the immediate future. I sit at home, still on my parents' dollar, as my own bank account dwindles to nonexistence. Sure, there are two jobs I'm waiting to hear on; sure, having either of those will make me feel at least a little bit better about myself. But that cynical side creeps in and shows me this picture of the next year or so:
After hearing in the negative from both BASF and the Duke Eye Center, I start subbing at Wallkill in the last few weeks of school, as I frantically pursue job opportunities here, in Durham, and in the DC area. Unsuccessful by July, I go through the motions at the local county college taking teaching certification courses. By August my job search remains futile and I decide to start temping and subbing while living at home for at least a year. My failure to continue research after graduation stands as a big black mark on my graduate school applications, and by March I end up right where I am now- no job, no money, no immediate future.
I never wanted to stop being a college student- I think that many of my friends feel the same way, and for right now I see nothing in the future but dread of a boring, low-impact life. I have never before felt so fearful of the future, and I think it would be just as well if tomorrow never came. After four years, the roller coaster hit its highest point over the last four months, but rather than continue its course, the track abruptly ended and I'm now careening off into free-fall. A sickening feeling, a sickening feeling.
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| Date: | 2006-04-20 10:37 |
| Subject: | Cliche Central |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  curious | | Music: | Every Rose Has Its Thorn-Poison |
The theme of this week has been chicken and eggs. Not as food- we haven't cooked ourselves a meal since the debacle that was our attempt at grilling. This is to the detriment of my food points count- $28 left with three weeks to go. I can spend $28 on Diet Cokes from now until graduation without even trying. I guess we're going to have to start cooking again...
Its not a question of which came first, either. Clearly, the first "chicken" (Gallus gallus domesticus) was contained in a egg hatched from a hen that was "not quite chicken" and the egg had mutated enough from its parent that it could not breed with the mother population. Of course, unless this was a common mutation that happened in eggs of the same population at the same time (unlikely), there would have had to have been slow selection going on. Some of this was influenced by the earliest domesticators of chickens, probably the Indians about 5000 years ago. This would have involved selecting chickens for various traits (including ability to lay infertile eggs), although all of those mutations would have happened in germ lines, not in the adult chickens. This confuses the issue a bit, but the questions should be on the level of populations, not of individuals. My knowledge of microevolution and population genetics helps the old paradox, but not by much.
No, this is a different cliche: Don't count your chickens before they hatch. Now, I'm no farmer, and I'm not familiar with the standard fertilization-to-birth ratio in chickens. But I know when I see a good egg with great potential. The largest, most vibrant egg I have right now is an Assistant Scientist job at BASF. The lab interested in me works with transgenic maize, and I'd be pretty entry level. The ceiling and potential for promotion is probably very high. The negatives for a job like that would be: 1) working for The Man and 2) getting myself away from the academic field; I don't know if I'd have to sign some sort of contract of two years or more, which would push me away from grad school. If I were to continue in the corporate world, I'd need the degrees anyway. This is why my other eggs look a bit more attractive, especially if the salary is about the same. The job in a lab at the Duke Eye Center would be fantastic for me learning new techniques, although I don't know how well I'd work with animals. I have an interview tomorrow with the yeast genetics lab; the advantage of this one would be I'd step in doing things I've already done before, and perhaps they'd understand me leaving in a year.
While the cliche may remain ultimately true, I've definitely slowed my search for eggs for a bit. There is the chance that all the eggs were sterile all along; in which case I'll hard boil them and make some deviled eggs. There is the chance that I get offered all of the jobs, which would be a fairly tough decision. Or I may only be offered one but not be very excited about it; this is where I wouldn't want to settle and look for more eggs. No one wants a mutated chicken, but no one wants egg on their face either.
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On the eve of battle, the tribe prepares. It was long ago that there was actually any blood lost between the rival tribes, these days it boils down to a ceremony, a holiday, a game. Still, the preparation has the mood of nervous anticipation, mixed with overflowing pride, adding a touch of spiritual insanity. Proudly, each member paints his or her face, or dons clothing special for this event, such that each tribesman is unique. Unique, but not alone- the crowd swells to over a thousand as the battle arena is opened.
And so at once the crowd is one, and it is many. Entering the arena, they become a sea of blue and white, humming with anxious jubilation. Soon, the tribal chants and dances begin and there is a complexity to these hand gestures, rhythmic clapping, and cadences. It is at once symbolic of the war-filled past, and a channel for the pride and excitement in the present. Each chant has its purpose and its place, and they are repeated with increasing ferocity.
Then the war heroes enter the battle field, and the crowd's chants and cheers intensify. The heroes are called out by name until they acknowledge the crowd. The tribe, in turn, becomes one with these twelve men. The battle draws closer and closer, and the enemy enters the arena to much derision. Their shade of blue is simply unacceptable to the crowd, and the twelve men of the rival tribe are taunted endlessly.
As the battle begins, the tribe is an impressive entity. Energy flows within it, as the members lose individuality while combining primal excitement. This energy flows to the heroes waging ceremonial battle, and this energy flows back into the crowd from the battlefield. The chants and dancing become deliberate breaks in a constant cacophony. Victory is all but assured, and the tribe shows its most primal form, in loud celebration.
This celebration spills back out of the arena into the village, where a large fire is erected. Singing and dancing and infinite exhilaration comes from the crowd. Some tribal members begin playing large drums as the crowd dances and chants. One chant is favored among all others. Approaching the fire, it can be heard through the distinct beats of the drum.
(Bum-bum)
A slowly swelling murmur, three beets, four beats, three beats
(Bum-bum)
The murmur is more audible, but the chant is not distinct
(Bum-bum)
Louder still, the chant is repeated, increasing in frenzy
(Bum-bum)
Nearly a scream now, the words are quite clear
(Bum-bum)
GO TO HELL, CAROLINA, GO TO HELL
(Bum-bum)
GO TO HELL, CAROLINA, GO TO HELL
(Bum-bum)
GO TO HELL, CAROLINA, GO TO HELL
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The concept of Big Beers deserves an entry all to itself, because it is so defining of my senior year. This is not that post. Unfortunately, to me the trip to Sati's every Thursday is beginning to lose some of its charm. Increasingly, it seems like my friends are less interested in camaraderie and more interested in hooking up. I'll theorize on this later, but a case study on Jake is illustrative. In past weeks, Jake's gotten increasingly annoying in his quest to "spit game," or at least "scrimmage" by flirting with every pretty face he sees. He even let us in on his methods: get the girl talking about herself a bit, and when she asks what he's up to, tell her all about how he's wanted to be in pediatric intensive care since he was five when his disabled little brother was born. "They know right away that I'm a sensitive guy, and that's when I've got them, that's when they'll do whatever I want." I'm not entirely sure what it is that he wants though, because the times that I've seen him be successful, he eventually decides that he doesn't want that girl after all, and moves on to someone else. Perhaps a case study on Jake needs to be expanded to incorporate the entire picture, but that could take years.
Anyway, though Jake is extreme among us, there is this trend towards "game" that I find honestly disturbing. More and more I feel like I'm back in high school, in the guy's locker room while jocks with raging testosterone gloat about their female conquests. I hear comments about a girl's physical appearance to the effect that only attractive girls with big tits (or at least a nice ass) are desirable. And the night is not a success unless one of those guys "bags" one of those girls-- indeed, disposition is entirely based on sexual success. They then project this goal upon me, assuming that if I'm speaking with a girl at the bar, the only thing I am thinking about is how to get this girl to invite me back to her place. This has happened each of the past two Big Beers nights, and has happened other times as well. My friends back away from me to leave me in isolation with this girl, and wander by every so often to offer encouragement such as "Get er done" and "Good work, Matt" and other such nonsense. I appreciate their well-intentioned support; I despise their assumptions of the situation.
Apparently Sam made some sort of comment that he hoped he'd be sleeping on the couch that night. To which Jake replied, "I'd sleep on my couch if I thought it would help." I'm not sure what their implications are there, but I doubt their intentions are anything other than wishing for my success. To them, that I came back to my apartment, alone, at 3 AM might qualify as a failure. To me, I spent a couple hours with a girl who was fun to talk to-- if something had "happened" that would have been okay, but it was just as okay that nothing "happened."
Its not just guys, even. Last week I spent most of the night talking to the three girls who joined our tent for the Wake game. After they left, a female friend said to me "Matt, you were with a table of girls all night, and then they left without you. What happened?!?" I was just enjoying talking to a particular group of girls, is what happened. Later that weekend, we all went to a party just to support Dan in his "game" efforts with a girl he's liked for a while. Let it be known that the guys who are supposedly the best game spitters were wrong in their assessment of the situation: they said that the girl looked bored and didn't seem to want anything to do with Dan. Yet he "got 'er done" or whatever. Rules are apparently for people who think they know everything.
The rules of my game, I believe, are not meant for the bar setting. They're meant for considerable one-on-one interaction where the girl begins to like me. I don't have the looks or the confidence of some of my other friends, and while that might be a short-run drawback, at least I know what I want in the end. What I want is a relationship with a girl who knows who I am and accepts it, who has a similar outlook on life to mine, etc etc etc... What I don't want is a girl who is swayed by drunken pick-up lines and wants the quick hook-up.
That's the difference, I suppose. A lot of my friends are looking at their last semester of college and wondering what else they could have done-- regrets, almost. It may be true that many of my friends really are nice guys, with whom I'd love to set up with a nice girl for a great relationship. But right now I think a lot of my friends see May 14 as an absorbing boundary beyond which no relationship can pass. So since they still are interested in girls as much as possible, all that energy is diverted into short term ventures. I don't fault them for that, but its not what I am after. And spare the inevitable counter-attack involving a river in Egypt... I'm serious. I find it interesting that at the very point where I drop my six-year long search for the perfect relationship... everyone else is only interested in girls.
It doesn't bother me that the guys leave me alone to talk to a girl... at the very least it means that none of them will try to ruin the moment by "spitting game." It doesn't even bother me that they assume my intentions incorrectly. I guess none of it really bothers me, I just thought it was worth commenting on. Other people's intentions are their own business and I don't pretend to know it all... But I hope I'm correct in that this is just a phase caused by the situations, and that I haven't misjudged my friends entirely.
I'm far too shy to speak to you at school
You leave me numb and I'm not sure why.
I find it easier to sit and stare
Than push my limbs out to you right there
My heart is bursting in your perfect eyes
As blue as oceans and pure as skies
I struggle for words and then give up....
~Snow Patrol
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| Date: | 2006-02-15 02:08 |
| Subject: | Hodgepodge |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  ditzy | | Music: | Get ItTo Go-To My Surprise |
Too much swimming around in my head to go to bed just yet, although I need to soon.
Prospects for next year: Lab meeting at 10 AM tomorrow and its best not to piss off my few remaining supporters in the Duke biology department. Based on frigid vibes I get from her, I get the feeling that my own adviser was one of the members of the committee who decided that being a Duke undergrad was points off. I went on a field trip again on Sunday, missing my final indoor soccer game as a result. I would have preferred the game, because my motivation on these trips has dwindled to nearly zero. Rather than diving into swamps and bogs and being fascinated by the world of mosses, I find myself with the enthusiasm of a mere independent study student hoping to just get the stupid honors thesis out of the way and over with. Meanwhile, the best prospect for next year at the moment is Teach for America. Yes, its out of the blue but I can survive teaching for two years, especially if I get placed with Jake somewhere, and I can come back with new experiences and continue my academic life. After that, the corporate world may await, as my aunt found some interest for me at the various pharmaceutical companies in the Triangle. Less likely, at the moment, is a research tech position here, partly because I haven't asked much, partly because there isn't much out there yet. Least likely of all is actually getting into Duke grad school. My confidence is hovering somewhere around 5% (compare to 85% three weeks ago...).
Valentine's Day: I found myself being surprisingly not unhappy, if that makes sense. Not quite into the happy stage, but it wasn't like I was wearing all black with tufts of hair falling over one eye, as I sniffed my red wine and played whiny emo music in the background. I had a pretty good day, if the distinction awarded February 14 were removed entirely. Do I wish I were with someone? Of course I do, but I'm not letting that sort of thing run my life like it used to. Besides, I was with someone last Valentine's Day and I remember being quite miserable. What made me not unhappy today is that I have friends, who make the day enjoyable whether it is 2/14 or 3/16 or 4/21 or whatever. It is enjoyable to be around them, and I feel like a part of something when I'm around them. If you want to talk about a sad day, talk about 5/14.
Sports: JJ scored another 33 points tonight, bringing him within 30 points of the all time Duke Scoring Record, and captured the all time NCAA 3-pt record during tonight's game. Sure, it might have been a little pointless to tent for such a meaningless game, but I think it was worth it. There's this feeling in Cameron now that is very hard to describe... I think I'll wait until after Sunday, when his #4 should be retired, to dedicate a lot of analysis to it.... suffice to say I can't wait to tell my grandchildren what I've seen.
In the meantime, I've just discovered that tomorrow should be even more of a national holiday. Being wrapped up in college basketball almost made me forget that February 15 marks the first day of "Pitchers and Catchers Report" Day. Now, I'm not exactly sure what this really means, and the players don't actually work out until the final day. But I remember Jerry Izenberg writing something really moving about this phenomenon a couple of years ago, and I've been looking through the archives for it. He connected this Day to the End of Winter, more so than the college basketball tournament or the Super Bowl, or Groundhog Day. Its a time of hope, when all teams have the same record and you can look at the calendar and say, "Hey, Pitchers and Catchers report today!" and it makes you feel good inside, whether or not you really know what you're saying. And I don't.
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Just when everyone assumed I had all my shit together and everything was looking up for me... this happens. I ran into the guy I did summer work with and who also happens to be chairman of the biology graduate admissions committee. He tells me that my application has been put on a wait list. They've called in 20-30 people to be interviewed at the end of this month, and sitting behind them in the rankings are me and a few other people. They'll offer admissions to about half of the interviewees, at which point they'll decide whether to interview more people or stick with what they've got. If they get an unusual number of people turning down their admissions offers, that would be the biggest window of opportunity for me. It doesn't look great, but its certainly not the end of the line for my application. Its almost exactly the same situation I was in four years ago, and I don't like it any more then than I do now.
The number one reason why my application wasn't ranked as high as others'? Because I'm a Duke undergrad, and they prefer to accept people from other universities. For the life of me I cannot understand this logic, and its apparently even worse in the med school. One would assume that professors would have a better feel for how successful a potential grad student is going to be from personal, daily interaction rather than an impersonal essay and a few recommendations from professors who may or not be credible. One would assume that a successful undergraduate career at one of the top five universities in the country, that extensive research experience, that glowing recommendations would be a good indicator of potential. But apparently not.
Sure, I was competing against people who have masters' degrees or years of research experience and published papers. But I extensively searched and could not find a better fit for me than right here. And that was held against me.
So now what do I do? I'm in the same situation with people who only now have begun to think about what to do after senior year, all my preparation and planning has stalled and sputtered leaving me gasping for air. I better begin the full court press on looking for a job somewhere. This really sucks.
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| Date: | 2006-01-30 13:47 |
| Subject: | The death of logic |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  determined | | Music: | Within You, Without You-The Beatles |
I've been thinking about writing on this topic a lot recently, and it is only the thought of actually leaving my apartment to go to lab that gives me motivation to stay here and write instead. I've written about this before, except my tongue was so far in my cheek that I ended up confusing anyone that read it.
It may be that as a scientist and someone trained to think in a particular way, I am predetermined to believe that logic is the key ingredient to nearly all successful arguments. It is rare that equally compelling and relevant facts can be offered for both sides of an argument. When this is the case, the rhetoric and persuasiveness of each side is usually what prevails. More often than not, however, emotion and prejudged beliefs are what prevails. What ends up happening sometimes is that the unwashed masses believe what is told to them either first or by their favored informant (this could be the head of the PTA or CNN This Morning- equally credible in some people's minds... more on that later).
To begin, an example to think about: Many people do not use Sweet N Low because of the disclaimer warning of cancer, and the nationwide scare the one FDA study caused in the late 1980s. The truth is, it would take a lifetime supply of saccharin (only one ingredient) injected directly into your bloodstream. The coffee the saccharin is going into has a better chance of causing cancer. Better yet, the cigarette smoked afterwards.
Tobacco is a good lead in to my point: lots of people charge emotions behind certain beliefs and not others. I have one friend who I believe didn't quit smoking because so many people kept telling him to, and now is finally quitting after we've started to accept his (illogical) behavior. Another friend started smoking so he could spend more time with a girl he liked (who is now his girlfriend). Neither of these make sense- both are very intelligent young adults who have been inundated with anti-tobacco facts their entire lives. This is slightly different than what I'm ultimately getting at- its not as if these guys don't believe that cigarettes are bad, they just choose to ignore the warnings.
Now, suppose I were to talk to people at this University, and ask them if they would change their mind about any given topic if presented with logical, statistical, and/or scientific support of the opposing view. Most people around here would agree that they would consider their prejudged view at least a little suspect. That is, unless you presented them with information that disproved a long-standing belief that they've held dearly. For example, say I were to approach someone from the Women's Center with facts that dispute their claim that over half of all rapes involve men the victim knew. (Clearly I don't have that evidence, its just an example). They'd be pretty pissed off, I'd probably be labeled as a male chauvinist pig, etc. But if the facts are there, if the logic of the situation must be reconsidered, why is there a problem. Here's a couple real examples from the last two weeks:
The issue in Kim's journal that sparked my thinking on this is a touchy one too. Many people believe dearly that marijuana ruins people's lives, it kills brain cells, etc. There are "facts" out there to support these views, mostly from government pamphlets that all cite each other and never present clinical evidence. The clinical evidence, on the other hand, either shows no support of the government's claims, or that previous studies could not separate marijuana use from other illegal drugs, or alcohol. My point is not to spark further debate- my point is that the facts come down clearly on one side; the other side could produce nothing but unsubstantiated and/or anecdotal evidence that was charged by an emotional belief.
More recently, there was heated debate among my friends regarding Kobe Bryant's 81 points in one game, and whether this was as impressive as Wilt Chamberlain's famous 100 point game back in 1962. After arguing with Stan and Sam for an hour and with their failure to produce any arguments that weren't circular, I started to think I was crazy. Then Dave, who watches more NBA than the three of us combined, chimed in on my side.
( Here's the rundown of the argument )
Now, that was certainly long-winded, but I hope it illustrates my point. To make an example of Sam- he is just as stubbornly in defense of the statistics refuting marijuana's bad reputation as he is stubbornly in defense of Wilt's performance being more impressive (which I consider to be emotionally charged). Granted, I'm looking at both situations believing I am right, but I also believe I have the evidence on my side as well-- I don't doubt that I would react similarly if a belief I've had for a while was challenged similarly. But more often than not I've noticed that I'm the one presenting facts in an argument while often I'm faced with an emotionally driven argument ("Yankees Suck/Duke Sucks" is my favorite example). I'm sure there are examples where the opposite is true.
Here's the problem I've been very slowly building up to: scientists are trusted, and are not trusted at the same time. Take the Sweet N Low example- the FDA study is cited when you look up the dangers of saccharin; but actually reading the study leads to a different conclusion than simply reading the wrapper. Similarly, the public has been confused for decades about whether eggs are good or bad (its changed multiple times), and after two generations grew up with the food pyramid, suddenly the bottom part of the pyramid (carbs) is inherently evil? Which scientists should we trust?
The answer for some people is none of them, which poses a problem since I'm about four months away from becoming a professional scientist myself. The answer for others, as I said earlier, is whichever they hear first; still others believe the last thing they hear since new evidence must be the best. Very few people will check a cited source and think for themselves using only the data presented. What most people see, for example, is that marijuana causes violent behavior and car accidents. If they checked deeper, what they would find (in this case) is that most accidents involving marijuana also involve alcohol or another illegal drug-- the number of accidents involving pot alone are near zero.
Even worse, sometimes when a scientist is presenting data or has closely reviewed a contested topic, his expertise is shunned in the eyes of many. He is criticized for acting like he knew better than everyone. One devastating example would be the engineers and environmental scientists who warned for years that a hurricane exactly like Katrina would topple New Orleans. But no one wants to listen to those arrogant scientists, not when our way of life could be altered in some small way, or worse- taxes.
Okay, before my tongue gets lodged in my cheek again, I should wrap this up. I'm not a social scientist, so this is only conjecture- but I believe the problem once again is the way young people are taught. The scientific method is mentioned in high school science classes, but how many actually understand it? Some of the intelligent design people do have a point- children should not be learning that science is static and never-changing; what's in the textbook will not always necessarily be (especially in biology). Instead, people get out of school and go into other things and when they hear that there's been a study, they immediately assume it is proven fact, just like the textbook. Worse, when there is a report that a study has been "disproven," the standard reaction is to lose trust in scientists. How could they have gotten something wrong? Why are we still funding that scientist? Clearly, the scientists we learned about in high school were much better, they were never wrong. They're on the same pedestal as Wilt Chamberlain. Rightly so, for many of them- but let's judge past and present by the same criteria, allowing for differences between eras.
This misunderstanding of how science works combines with an increasingly anti-elitist society to create a life in which all you have to do is yell louder in order to be correct. You can see proof of this every weekday from 5-6 PM on ESPN: "experts" yelling at each other, and typically the guy with the least amount of proof but the most amount of yelling wins. (For the record, the PTI guys and 3 of 5 Around the Horn guys all thought Kobe's 81 was more impressive than Wilt's 100. The fourth Around the Horn Guy got the most "points" because the host agreed with him.)
Congratulations for anyone who has made it this far. This troubles me because, as I've said, I'm going to be "doing science" for a living from now on. Whose responsibility is the public perception of scientists? Does anyone else feel there's a problem? What can we do to fix it. I'm not sure of those answers. What I am sure of is that I should actually get into the lab at some point so I can be assured of being a scientist next year...
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| Date: | 2006-01-22 01:04 |
| Subject: | Plants > humans |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  sleepy | | Music: | Lonely Shepherd- Zamphir (Kill Bill Soundtrack) |
I've been annoyed with a lot of people lately. Usually breaks are perfectly timed for me to deal with that, and I make it back refreshed and unannoyed and happy to see people again. That wasn't so this time. Still annoyed. People are still fucking with my head. People are still ignoring me and cutting me off in many social conversations. No, its not all their fault, my generally poor social skills never help when things get like this, I end up yelling, then people don't want to be around me as much, then I get more lonely than usual, etc. It could also be that everyone knows that I'm going to say something uninteresting and would rather say something that they consider to be much more interesting, like "Dude, my beer is dead." or "I am spitting SO much game tonight!" or, most typically, I was mistaken in assuming that I had their attention in the first place. Generally I'm having a good time with my life, but a lot of things irk me enough to lash out, lately. Some of them deserve it, others don't. Apologies where needed. This is why I've turned most of my attention away from fickle people to loyal plants:
"One important thing I learned on this trip was that I am not going to be a botanist. Plants in general don't generate the kind of excitement in me that it did in Dr Manos, the grad students, and some of the other students."
--5/27/2004
I found this comment in my old journal last night, and repeated it to Dr Shaw today, while explaining how I've changed in my years at Duke. This idea first started last week in the writing seminar I went to taught by a guy I had for an English class freshmen year. He said something I hadn't thought of, which sort of surprised me and then made sense. He noted that throughout youth, children become able to do things they were not able to do (at least not completely) the previous day. Sit, stand, crawl, walk, talk, read, play sports... all mental activities that require the connections of particular synapses in order to function correctly. It is simply impossible to try to teach a newborn to walk, or a six-month old to read a novel. Dr Gopen theorized that perhaps the ability to communicate via writing is not completely formed until during the college years. There is certainly something distinct between a freshmen's writing and a senior's writing that is not connected to experience. I don't find my writing from freshmen year to be completely bad, but I found an old valley voice and I can definitely tell the difference.
I think that sort of thing isn't applicable to writing alone. I think the way that I have thought about school and learning and how it fits into my life has fundamentally changed over the past three and a half years. I certainly came in as a biology major with no intention of med school, that much is certain. Somewhere around the end of 2004, something dramatic happened in the way I view classes. To look at statistics, my semester GPAs so far:
3.43, 3.25
2.93, 2.93
2.90, 3.87
3.60,
Granted, I took some very challenging and ultimately uninteresting classes sophomore year, resulting in some low scores. And the 2.9 in the fall of my junior year would have been a whole lot worse had I not pulled my act together in the last three weeks. Still, the trend is obvious, and my explination is that I went from thinking of classes as schooling to thinking of classes as learning. This may not be as important for my friends who aim to go to professional school or straight into the work force, but for someone who is interesting in being an academic forever, this is a necessary change. I see more clearly how a class is run and why tests ask questions they do. We'll see how I do on Shaw's plant diversity tests, but I feel like I'm better able to anticipate the knowledge required to demonstrate advanced understanding of the material. I like learning.
More importantly, I've come a long long way from that trek through the Croatan National Forest in 2004. I was right to point out that my lack of a plant diversity class hurt my interest in plants in the field. I was wrong to think that I would never consider myself a botanist. While evolution is my main interest, it has been said (and repeated out of context many times) that "nothing in biology makes sense, except in light of evolution." So two years ago when I saw an orchid, I saw a pretty flower. When I struggled through brush, I wasn't thinking about which organisms I was stepping on or rubbing against and how each of those organisms fit into an overall pattern of biodiversity that made the entire ecosystem function. I used to think that to know why a rainbow has those colors was to take away from the beauty of it. Now, I think the knowledge adds to it, I think before I had no idea what beauty or elegance or complexity really was. Quite literally, I couldn't see the forest for the trees. Now, I see clearly that Nature is infinitely more imaginative than our small primate brains can comprehend, and the act of simple understanding is more awe inspiring than any melodramatic poem about the colors in a rainbow.
Hippie, nerd, unromantic- call me what you will... there is happiness to be found in not only observing nature, but understanding how it all fits together. Besides, nature is always paying attention to me...
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In my roughly four years of using livejournal, there have been many droughts in posting. Usually I attribute this to my life being boring; more accurately its probably because I tell my friends everything that's going on in my life in like 15.6 seconds, and then I don't feel the need to write it down for all posterity. Unfortunately that will probably result in me forgetting a large chunk of what happened while I was in college, and I'm going to regret that. Lately, though, I've found myself not talking about my life all that much, other than the answers to the obligatory "how was break?" and "how's that grad school stuff going?" questions. Its not that I think that my friends don't care, its rather that I don't really feel like wasting their time. This is particularly true when talking to the various female friends who have traditionally known the most about me and been the first people I've turned to. With quite a few of them it just simply feels like there's nothing to talk about anymore-- discussing drama originally encompassed many conversations, and that's either absent now or internalized. That, of course, is to be expected. I mean, all but a couple of my friends are at least 21 years old. By that time one should realize the importance of friendships beyond the whole "helping hand" thing, that simple camaraderie goes a long way. Also, the "solve your own problems, because I've got my own" mentality is all a part of being a normal functioning adult.
Not that I should have all that much to talk about. Externally, I'm doing great: two straight semesters of awesome grades have been paired with an independent study that is bringing out the researcher in me enough that a professor at one of the top biology programs in the country wants me to study in his lab next year. I am well on my way to completing dreams that seemed to be fading as the mediocre grades fell sophomore year. I have a solid group of close friends here and we always have fun whenever and wherever we hang out: basketball games, big beers, random hanging out. I'm finding a way to have a little bit of fun every day, though frequently it does involve substance abuse.... Regardless, it does appear as though I've "got my shit together," and am making every minute of my final college semester count for something.
Internally, I'm still as much of a mess as I ever was. The two major themes of the last 4-5 years of my life (wanting a girlfriend, wanting to lose weight) are still there. Their causes (irrational insecure paranoia, lack of will power) are still there, and I still find each one intimately tied to the other. The solutions from caring, interested friends have always been the same (have more confidence, it will happen when you least expect it, try to make a plan and stick to it, you’re not fat you look fine), which is okay and sometimes actually does make me feel better. Most of the times I just glaze over the advice- not because its bad but because I’ve heard it so many times. Some might say that I’m just in denial about myself, but really I think its because that advice, though well-intentioned and applicable, is treating the symptom and not the disease.
WARNING: Incoming biology nerd metaphor
Mammalian bodies have a built in defense against pathogens that the complex immune system may have trouble eradicating. Fever is a natural response to infection, and it works because although the mammal can function normally with increased internal temperature, those few degrees can limit or impede the growth of the pathogen. Therefore, when a person sees their temperature is 100˚F, and then takes a fever reducer, they are treating the symptom and not the disease. In fact, the fever reducer may stunt the body’s ability to fight the infection, especially if it is bacterial.
To continue the metaphor to ridiculous ends, as I usually do: my symptom is a seeming inability to attract women the way my more suave friends can; their fever reducer is usually giving me tips on pick up lines and conversation tactics (like the guys in Swingers) or from my female friends the assurance that I didn’t want those girls in the bar anyway, they’re sluts. Well, I’m a guy at the bar and I’m not a player, so there must be girls there who aren’t sluts. And just like Mike in Swingers it may indeed happen when I least expect it, but not before I somehow treat the disease (insecurity) rather than the symptoms.
A relationship was, almost, the cure. I’m fairly sure that in addition to love, the reason such a verbally abusive relationship continued for so long was because not only was my insecurity tolerated, it was accepted and fostered. I’m not completely sure that is the best way to deal with my personality flaw, but for brief periods of time I was actually sure of myself. Good luck to whoever comes next in trying to live up to Kim’s nurturing ability.
One terrible result of all this internalization is that I have begun judging everything unfairly. It happens with things too (drinking the Haterade, as Sam calls it), but its much more severe when I judge people, especially close friends. Normally I consider myself a good judge of a person’s character, something I can identify quite early. Now though, I end up snapping at people and saying things I don’t really mean to say. Worse, I project my own diseases upon others in a way that could be used in an intro psych book. Who am I to criticize this friend’s anorexia, that friend’s bulimia, this friend’s alcohol problem, that friend’s Adkins diet. They may all be caused by the same kind of internalized insecurity as mine, but I have too many of my own health and diet issues to offer any advice whatsoever.
I’m not sure what the point of these thousand words is. Most likely things will never get back to the way they used to be, and internalization is really the only solution that doesn’t bore and annoy my friends to death. Most likely I will continue to be insecure until that unexpected day when that unexpected girl ends up bringing out the best in me. I hope that day comes sooner than later, but I must think this: pretty sad that it has to come from someone else, and I can’t find it within myself to overcome my own character flaws.
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I, Matt Johnson, at 12:35 AM, the wee hours of October 14, 2005, accomplished a deed so great, it will be talked about only in legends. Realizing the net worth of his iPod mp3 player to be only 1/10 of its original purchase value, I proceeded into the no-mans land of "what else could i possibly do to make things worse for this machine." Frustrated by the lack of help on even the nerdiest online message board, I turned to the wise Stan, whose knowledge exceeds tangible boundaries. His advice was simple.
emjay713: any idea how to take apart an ipod?
stantheman919: anais' brother used a screwdriver to pry it open
A brief but frantic search revealed no screwdriver, so with the fire extinguisher nearby and armed only with a simple pocket knife, I began to pry the cold silver back from the sleek white overcoat. Inside was a jumble of green, silver, and black that not even an Apple Genius would dare lay eyes upon. And yet, with intrigue and strange confidence, I plodded on, noting that one black box-thing had come out of a similar looking black-box hole. After examining the parts for several minutes, I reconnected these pieces and in a whirling fit of tumultuous anticipation, I pressed my finger gently upon the round white power key. The screen jumped to life and the nondescript apple logo was not replaced by the disenchanting sad ipod of my nightmares. No, it was the music menu! I had done it- what no Apple Genius would dare... I fixed the iPod, with a pocket knife and common sense. Some day, when both man and music player are long committed to the great junkheap of time, this tale will echo through the halls of justice and human ingenuity. Even fainter, the gentle guitar riffs of Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, and The Who, and Styx will be heard through little white headphones, happily... happily.
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mehmattski's journal
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