Confession on a toll booth 1

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It's been a year, a week, and a day since I last posted. Waiting another month is a tempting idea, although I'm sure that I will never really get around to it.

Since I have nothing to talk about, I will go through the entire blog and interlace my last year into it.

This blog was started because of http://infamyoffact.blogspot.com, which is left as a shell. That could be the same with this one, except I usually abandon, and not delete my past.

I haven't actually written any extended application since Science One, at least, not one that requires writing words.

I've actually changed my bus route, and unfortunately this means trading the eclectic types for the VC boys, the Crofton girls, and the rest of the UBC-bound.

I also haven't got a chance to make another speech, but I have quite a few introductory line: "Welcome to the Abdul Ladha Science Student Centre, the only free-standing student-ran building on campus [only for the next year or two though, not that I would care at that point]. I've had the opportunity to be involved with this building over the past year and a bit, and some of my best memories on campus has been associated with this building. I am very grateful for the opportunity to be hosting this event, and I hope you guys will have the chance to be back in this building after today." I did get a chance to carry a big stick though. T'was fun. More on that later.

And as for the mandatory quote of the post, there'll be a anecdote from my analytical chemistry course. Robin was discussing how in our field (his field), there is almost no need for quotes. The only time something would warrant quoting, would be if it is so eloquently and precisely put that there is no way to make it better or appropriate. An example, is if there is a Lt. that is being completely out-maneuvered, and after many days of surviving, he is surrounded by the enemy, and he uttered his last word, "Nuts".

I went to a rendition of Anything Goes put on by Theatre Under the Stars. It was a great production, and unlike the last time, trumpet did good. And the violinist did his tacets fantastically.

Social contract.... I'm waiting for the last season of House. That's all.

I'm now legal in another country. Yay.

It could be worse? A friend of a friend decided to put how he was having a bad day because he was in his room studying in the same category as a person whose mom's real sick and in the hospital, a person whose dog is puking continuously, a person whose mom just found out they had stage 2b cancer, and a person who was kicked out of their house. This really put into perspective for me that we should step back from our pity, before it consumes you to the point you become something that people look upon in shock.

Part 2, maybe to come.

10 Ejaculates and a Good Centrifuge.

"Go around and pee on home plate!"

There is a mediocre HBO show called Hung, in which the premise of a recent episode was the main character's son peeing on home plate, or as they called it, "defiling the baseball diamond". At first I was confused about the motivation and the big deal. Until the opening comment was uttered to me last night. I guess I wasn't drunk enough to fully appreciate it, but being on a field, the sprinklers going on, a small crowd cheering you on behind you - there's a little bit of je ne sais quoi quality about it which makes it a little bit ridiculous.

Of course, although not drunk, there needed to be quite a bit of alcohol consumption for the event to occur. And with that, my supervisor, my coworker and I had a long discussion about anything that came to mind. Lots of praises flew around, although one particular praise went on about 30 odd times in the night, with at least once where it was mentioned 3 times in a row. Quite a few insults flew too, but this time it doesn't seem like toxic environment causing - everything was honest, with supports, and not meant to be malicious towards the objects.

The talk repeated a lot of things over and over, I mean, we were quite drunk at that point. However, it seems to tell me that I could go to grad school if I want to. Of course, this doesn't actually tell me that much - before there were the three thoughts: a- want to do BEd, b- do i want to do MSc? and c- can I do MSc? Although c is somewhat eliminated, it was never really that far away from b.

I'm going to really miss my supervisor when I leave. Last night was filled with fun, even without the alcohol.

You are the 6000th visitor

Today when I plopped in my sample for mass spectrometry, the computer showed that I was the 6000th sample from my lab. Artificial fireworks flew across my screen, before real life sparklers going off beside the monitor, and the mass spectrometer playing a happy diddly. The technician comes by with a miniature cupcake with "Happy 6000th" icing and a blue candle.

....

Not really.

The machine just asked me for my sample name and expected mass. It was very anti-climatic in actuality. That's what happens when a special date or milestone was over-emphasized for ages, only to disappoint with mediocrity.

But then, why can't mediocrity be enough? Why do we strive for extraordinary things when the simple things in life pass us by without so much as a thought, much less the appreciation they deserves? Why can't we be happy that it's raining in the middle of summer? Or be excited that when we take out our pencil, and it's still sharpened? Why do we hold parades for all sorts of frivolous things, when we could be celebrating the fact that our breaths don't stink because of that pack of gum we found at the bottom of the couch cushion?

Growth of a noun

Ask a 12 years old what he or she think a scientist working in a lab looks like. The response might be lab coats or goggles, or swirling an Erlenmeyer. That basically rules out all the mathematicians and let's not even bring up the social scientists. As they grow, their definition of scientist might morph and mature until it becomes a definition they're willing to stick with.

Cab ride in the rain

I'd like to think I'm not quite yet at the level to deserve the title of scientist, but frankly, I might be close. Two years ago, I would looked at myself funny if I saw my google search left with inquiries such as "palladium-assisted indolinimide hydrolysis" and "quenching LDA reactions of acid-sensitive moiety".

Kahlua baked in cheesecake

Sure, the latter one might be just because moiety is one of those awesome words of vowel-tasticness, but I wouldn't even know how to use half of those words a while ago.

I've always said that I'm not defined by not definition, or at least that's what it says on my Facebook profile. I will make the scientist I'll be; Science will not define me. I'm not going to be a spandex- and cape-wearing B Man; Justin's gonna be throwing down with the rod of democracy.

Velvet flutter of skirts

It really is going to be business as usual next year. The amount of cancellations and negotiations that I have to deal with is mind numbing. Not to mention the budget's an utter mess.

Blood-letting and leeches

Not that there's a lot of hours that needs to be put in, but the amount of random worrying is starting to catch up to me, and my thoughts are starting to get scattered. It makes writing in this blog really difficult, since in writing of this blog post, I've wanted to change the topic 4 times. My thoughts don't get developed fully any more, so it looks like a chicken scratch of notes.

Simple full layouts

So blog posts will probably start again with a little bit more gusto, now that I have someone to write for.

Drummer

"A magnificent specimen, like a lone wolf - uncertain whether by circumstance or by choice. In either case, there exists no better lifestyle for him."

Home

"I'm going to the place where love and feeling good don't ever cost a thing."
Daughtry - Home

Home is where your heart is.

Yeah, sure I guess.

If that's the case, recently my home's been all over the place.

Home right now is really no more than a place to pass out after work. Sure, it's still my preferred place of passing out, but still.

Things used to be simple; a house is not a home did not apply, the two are the same. The house you lived in is your home.

Following your heart, getting it attached to something and grounding yourself, that's how we get ourselves through life.

For a while, home was a time. 6:45am. It was like the ultimate me time.

Associated with that time, there were two locations.

There was a little alcove opposite of the band room with a wooden bench. It's small enough that even in the fetal position, it's still cozy, yet it's big enough for me to be able to stretch out and lie there. It's an amalgamation of drywall, wood, and cement. The drywall brittle, the wood smooth, and the cement, filled with the marks of all the others who have enjoyed the little bit of safe haven.

The other was the gym. One light on out of the 12. The 800 people capacity facility, for 10 minutes is reserved only for me. I can choose to set up, I can choose to warm up, or I can choose to sit down, and accompany the 800 people worth of me.

6:45am was a magical time for me.

Come university, two more places are added, Chemistry, and Ladha.

I am doubting how homely Chemistry feels. My heart is flip flopping. I don't know if I want to treat it that way. It's not like a hospital residency, where getting in basically means devoting into it entirely. I am not bound by anyone but me to the 5 years I'm stuck in this place. All my heart needs to do is flutter, and I can be out of here.

Ladha is very similar. Although it's a lot more of a home is where my feet are situation. I'm there, almost always, so everyone teases that it is home. Pretty soon I would start believing it.

I just want to go home.

To Boris

Practice yesterday went well. Originally planned to practice today, then mom decided that she wants to play Mahjong. Mother's day means I get trumped.