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.

Virtual Love Letter

I have always believed that writing a reference letter is similar to writing a love letter. You praise and brag about how wonderful this person is, and overlook all their flaws. Your language changes from daily speech, to a more flowery prose.

The more substantial proof is in the writing process. You start off by picturing their face; regardless of how they look, you start attributing their positive traits onto their physical feature. The eternally optimistic person will have their smile etched, and the corners of their eyes wrinkled, the sports enthusiast will have a trim physique, minimizing the body fat content, the perpetual green thumb will have that adorable streak of dirt across their forehead, and a slightly messy hair. Then the visualization comes to life. The modest kid shows a quiet inflection in his speech. The emotionally expressive person would be offering a hug. The homely would smell of fresh baking.

A good and truthful reference always gets better at the end. The process of writing builds this person up, which just further motivates you to write a reference that is worth such an amazing person. The ultimate test really is to finish writing the letter and meet up with this person, and not be disappointed. Sometimes we just build someone up so high that even the most perfect of men would fail to meet our standards.

The man I wrote my love letter to met my expectation and then some. =)

Quick update

Obviously I'm busy with school and neglect this thing, but here're a few things happening recently.

- I rolled my ankle playing volleyball again - there is HUGE bruising right now one side is about 3"x1", the other side's 5" x 2". After the swelling went down I can walk pretty decently, as long as I'm on flat ground.

- Just desserts' this Thursday. I get to walk up, get a plaque, then eat a whole bunch of dessert, it'll be sweet. Literally.

- I get to plan an operation =D I love those, I am starting that up with my committee next year (knock on wood)

- I'll be in a lab in UBC this summer. yay nserc. (yet to decide if the second part's sarcastic or not)