Science, schmience....

So, it's a Tuesday. And I'm sitting in the dark, waiting for my cells to be sufficiently loaded with a super swanky fluorescent dye, so that I can then proceed to "acid load" them. Now, now. Before you go thinking I've thrown in the towel at UCSF to become the auspicious ring leader of a drug cartell, think again. We scientists like to use such expressions as "acid load" in order to make ourselves feel hip, down with the kids, popular. Almost like we're the cool kids in high school talking about how, like, totally awesome it was to, like, drop acid on the school bus, man. Needless to say, the acid loading I am currently referring to has nothing to do with cool high school kids, nor does the process take place on a school bus.

Anyhoo, I'm bored. And in a desperate attempt to pass the time (while simultaneously appeasing my obsession with planning) I've looked up everything I can possibly think to look up online, including, but certainly not limited to, the good Dr's blog (which sadly hadn't been updated and thus didn't entertain me for long), Sis B's blog (which, equally sadly, also hadn't been updated, though I did decide to leave a comment), various retailers (such as nordstrom.com and macys.com to make sure I'm not missing some crucial, yet hitherto unknown, item for my wardrobe), all wireless providers (to verify that I am, in fact, paying the lowest monthly contract for my cell phone - and yes, thank you, I am), yelp.com (in an effort to find someone to cut and color my hair for less than $1,000,000, which seems to be the current asking price for such services in San Francisco), bbc.com (because sometimes I feel homesick and get a hankering for some less biased news), imdb.com (to look up the filmography of Woody Allen - a guy that, until watching Annie Hall last night, I swore I'd never, ever grace with any adoration whatsoever), craigslist.com (because a trip online is never complete before a quick gander on craigslist), ikea.com (to daydream about what it would be like to have an entire house - from the foundation up - arrive in a small box that could subseqently be erected with only an allen key, some dowels and an animated instruction booklet complete with the occassional thumbs up from the porky, androgenous, yet eerily cheerful, Ikea Cartoon Human), and finally, to blogger.com (to update this bad boy.) All of the aforementioned sites were desperate attempts to keep myself amused while my timer, which I inadvertently dropped on the floor not once, but twice, today, counted down to the next flurry of cell activity. Unfortunately, because of the regrettable dropping of the timer, it keeps randomly resetting itself, making it appear as though a 10 minute incubation will never, ever, ever end.

Speaking of never ending, I'm not entirely sure this day ever will. Despite getting a super night's sleep last night (which was also thankfully devoid of psycopathic dreams), I'm finding it difficult to resist the urge to lay my head down on this seemingly cushion-like keyboard and take a cat nap. But alas, I must not. Because if I do, I'd probably start drooling. And we all know drool and keyboards don't mix.

Hint Hint

LOVE this...

I've been in a pensive mood for roughly the past 72 hours. Pensive to the point of tortured introspection. So, why was it that when I put my iPod on shuffle this morning, I got track after track of the most heart-wrenching, doleful songs in my collection? And believe me, there are some depressing doozies on there. Suffice it to say, the iPod's less than sensitive selection didn't help matters one bit.

Measuring happiness

According to the BBC, who has posted a delightful little quiz on the subject, social interactions are the number one contributor to whether or not people are not only satisfied, but happy, with their lives. I couldn't agree more. My world revolves around people - and the older I get, the more exacerbated this behavior of mine becomes. I've noticed that that once insatiable drive I had for a career and money and material possessions is taking second seat to making sure the relationships in my life are rich and present. Don't get me wrong, I'd still love to have a job that paid better so I didn't have to worry quite so much about those loan payments, but the loans seem to be shrinking in comparison to making sure I get to see Steph and Aaron in Amsterdam, Alex getting married in Suffolk, or Nicole breezing through SFO at 5am on a Wednesday morning. According to a poll on the same site, 91% of people believe the government's prime objective should be to achieve the greatest happiness of the people as opposed to only 9% who believe the government should be focused on the achieving the greatest wealth. It's clear, isn't it.

Speaking of measuring things, there's another delightful quiz hosted by the BBC (boy, I love the quizes)

One very good reason for men to wear eyeliner:

A Day in the Life of Germ.... (according to Sis B)

I want to share with you my vision of you at work:

I see you in a white lab coat - glamorous, but gently glowing in a warm way as you tend to your flock of germs. You move them from one experiment to another with a firm but gentle hand and they love you for it. You have your favorites, and names for each of them - there's little Kenny G (YES, named after the musician) and little Cartman. And there's Zelda T. and Zelda K, whom you pretend to like equally, but really you're partial to Zelda K. because she sings to you and the rest of the germs while you work. You're all one loving family. Sometimes you dress up the girl germs with pink bows, and guys get green bows. They have nap time and story time - generally, I envision a preschool for germs. They particularly enjoy snack time, when you cut off the crusts of the peanut butter sandwiches for the little ones and then feed it to them.

"I'm in a wide-open space, I'm staring..."

Here I sit, attempting to get some much-needed bed rest, but as per usual, I'm finding it hard to resign my mind and spirit to the needs and wants of my body. My body is tired and achy and sore and sick. Very sick. And the very fact that I can't seem to shake this illness (which, incidentally, was borne from the Devil himself) is confirmation of some sort of deep-seated exhaustion. So, here I lay. Attempting the aforementioned bed rest.

Easier said than done, especially for this gemini.

My mind, in direct contrast to this tired achy shell I'm in, is always racing - like a greyhound that never catches the mechanical rabbit. I've tried to stop it, to slow it, but to no avail. So instead, I try to appease and distract it by either keeping myself too busy to notice its incessant pace, or distracting it with what has always been my favorite thing - other people. Sadly, I must report that there are no other people in my room today - no one to put on a puppet show, juggle, or do a little dance - so my mind is undestracted, unfettered, and doing a darned good job (or joearb, as some would say) scuffling around all by its lonesome.

Frustrating? Somewhat. Especially since I find myself suddenly knee deep in time. Time to listen to the birds chirp outside, watch the light change as minutes and hours pass, contemplate life and love and relationships, relish in the feeling of being wrapped up in my sheets or maintaining a warm body print in my bed, despite the fact it's 4pm. On the other hand, I've also got time to reassess my job, reavaluate my house, relive that confrontation with Diane, plan expieriments, assess my next "career" move, or judge the fact that I haven't written in this thing for a long time. The latter, of course, was the reason I shifted and squirmed away from that warm body print two minutes ago and grabbed my laptop.

So, here I sit, like a goon, staring at this blank page while all of the useless facts/quirky antecdodes/current events/loves/hates/complaints/compliments previously gushing around my head simultaneously and spontaneously combusted into a puff of smoke. How can it be that, just a second ago, I had tremendous thoughts poking and prodding at me, keeping me from sleeping, but the moment I start writing, they vanish. This whole experience reminds me of something that happened last night while I was dining with my beau. As I watched him talk about his day and his job and his plans and options and why it annoys him when people claim to have "discovered" they're Jewish, I felt that same dissolving of subjects in my head into nothing. Like I was a black hole of information with bupkis, nada, nothing, zilch to contribute. Like I had everything to say but no idea how to spit it all out, no idea how to make the point that is now playing a very clever game of hide and go seek.

I think I'm in a funk. A post PhD, mid-flu, pre-perfect job/life funk. And I'm really flummoxed as to how to get out.

Stephen Colbert for President

Given my obvious inability to write lately (I like to think it's due to the general fogginess in my head from the persistent cold I appear to be stuck with), I'll appease you with a link to what is apparently one of the most watched video clips currently online. In case you hadn't heard, Stephen Colbert delivered a marvelously scathing satirical commentary on the Bush Administration at the the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner. The speech was apparently aired on C-SPAN and MSNBC, though not on any of the other major networks. Hmmm. Wonder why?