Well, I haven't written in a day or two--I've been busy doing all of my Christmas shopping at the last minute since most of my med apps are in and my finals are over. I still have some to do, though, and I don't know when that shopping is getting done.
I'm waiting for the water to boil in the kettle, and then I'm going to head out, thermos of tea in hand, for my last day of work until next semester. I am so tired; I stayed up way to late watching Kung Fu Panda with my boyfriend.
It was and education experience, however, as I discovered that I am the Kung Fu Panda. How do I know this, you ask?
1) I am motivated by cookies and dumplings (or any other yummy food)
2) I'm cuddly
3) I lack claws
4) I'm starting at a "level 0" in my kung foo skills
5) I say things like "skidoosh!"
6) I have difficulty opening containers that everyone else find immensely easy to open.
So, yes, if you want my autograph, please let me know via comment and I'll see what I can do.
Well, water's boiling! That's it, gotta go.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
This semester is over *yay*
I'm finished as of 5:30pm today (well the 20th, which is now technically yesterday). Ahh, what a relief. Now I can focus my efforts on other things, like my coming medical school interview and back-up plans for not getting into medical school, Christmas shopping, and creative stuff. I won't be going home until Tuesday, so I have a bit of time to clean up my dorm room, shop in the city and just chill.
I still haven't decided what I'm getting for many of my family members. I'll figure it out. Also, I have to get a gift for my family's yankee swap; something in the range of $20 to $25. I think I might get a movie or something. I'll have to see what's available.
The snow these past few days has been pretty crazy, and I've almost wiped out walking into buildings with slippery floors multiple times. It's pretty treacherous. But the snow makes everything look pretty, even if it is more difficult to get around. I would post pictures of campus and everything, but I'm not sure where my camera is at this moment; plus, I'm exhausted and just want to hang inside for a bit before drifting off into a heavy sleep.
I decided to do this writers prompt from the website "Writer's Digest."
After 42 years with your company, the day has finally arrived: your last day of work. Your coworkers throw you a lunch retirement party. After cake, one coworker asks you to reflect on your years with the company. So you do—and you hold nothing back.
Here's my response:
It's a cold afternoon, a week and a half before Christmas. I walk, wrapped in my oldest wool coat, to those doors for a final time. My last day (well, half day) of work. I can't believe I'm finally leaving this crummy office. I already cleaned out my cubicle yesterday; I chuckled to myself while Tom silently sobbed at his desk, which shares the cubicle with mine. Maybe that was mean, but I couldn't help it. Getting away from his disgusting habits is one of the many sweet things about retirement.
Today, Greg is supposedly going to get the office together to give me a "going away party." What that really means is that he's probably having us all go to the crappy chinese food place down the street--Chang's Dynasty--and have us pay our own way. Any time I've been there I've seen at least four cockroaches. I've actually kept a count--up until today I've seen, total, 389 cockroaches in that place, including one cooked in my lo mein. Years ago I suggested a different venue for our office luncheons; Greg took it as a personal insult and instead ignored all of my work for the next week. Normally, I would welcome him being silent, but when he ignored me, he instead talked to Tom and said, "Could you tell Cathy blah blah blah." It was more annoying than his normal personality.
I sit down at my desk and awkwardly turn to Tom, expecting his usual overexuberant, "Hey, Catarina!" with some added embaressing comment about my age. Yes, I am the oldest person in this office. But do I need to be reminded of it daily? Instead, he has already begun sobbing. Pathetic. I don't acknowledge it, and instead turn back to my desk. I carefully remove the latest Danielle Steele novel--I'm a sucker for romance--from my new Coach bag that my husband gave me in celebration of my retirement. I've been aching over this purse for a year, so I can't help but show it off, even if it is to people that I can barely stand.
After reading chapter or two, Greg and his secretary, Kate, approach my desk. For some reason she always follows him around, but rarely says anything. "So, hun, how's it hanging?" Greg asks.
I just stare at him. I'm almost twice his age, but he feels the need to call me "hun." I've always thought he was threatened by my work ethic; I was offered his position before he was brought into the office, but I declined, since I didn't need the extra headache of running this place. I would not have enjoyed worrying about the office in my spare time in addition to loathing being there during the day.
Kate just stands there, biting the black nail polish from her withered fingernails.
Tom sniffles loudly. I look over my shoulder and see he has his pinky up his nose. Lovely.
"Well, it's almost noon time. Lunch." He pauses, looking around awkwardly like trying to find something to say. He then looks at me for a good thirty seconds.
I stare straight back into his watery little eyes.
"You must be so upset to be leaving; you've been here, what, 50 years?"
I shake my head. It's been 42, but there's no need to correct him. The least interaction, the better. I am getting paid for these last few hours.
"Well, I know I'm glad--and you must be too--you came in for the half day today." He rocks back and forth from his heels to his toes.
"You made me come in for the half day. My husband and I had planned for a day off to visit our grandchildren." As much as I've told myself not to react to him, I can't help it. He always acts like no one could want anything better than spending time with him.
"You'll have plenty of time for your grandchildren. Anyhow, I just wanted to tell you to get your coat on and grab your wallet. Let's get lunch!"
And with that he walks off, Kate in tow.
Well, we receive our egg drop soups, and I pretend to sip mine. Better not actually eat anything here. It's an all day buffet, so there's one price for everything; I'm tempted to just get a glass of water and not eat, but that's not polite, and I have too much dignity for that.
Only Greg, Tom and Kate come. Granted, the office is small with only seven people in it; apparently, no one else wanted to come to Chang's. Go figure. Greg and Tom are on each side of me, talking across me as if I'm not there. Even though this is my going away lunch, right now I'm allowed to fade into the cracking faux leather seats. Kate gazes into her soup, not touching it, and then removes a brush from her duct-tape bag and begins to groom herself at the table. Were none of these people taught manners when they were younger? Not that it matters anyway; in this dump of a restaurant, brushing your hair at the table may improve the cleanliness.
I spot cockroach number on crawling on the wall across our table.
After we eat, Tom orders some fried concoction that's apparently supposed to be dessert. After it arrives at the table, he turns to me and says, "You got this, right? I mean, it is your party." I just ignore it. I keep counting down in my head--only an hour and a half to go. Just breathe. It's only a few dollars. It's worth it to prevent any further annoyance on my last day.
Kate, for once, comes out of her daze and glances over at me. She's a young girl, about twenty one or twenty two, I'd guess. She has jet black eyes, and, though I've never noticed before, they actually seem warm and welcoming. She chews on the edge of her lip and asks me, "You've been here since before I was born, right? That's a hell of a lot of time. What have you thought of being here that long?"
Obviously, I am taken aback. I've barely said two words to Kate since she started working here after she graduated high school. "Well, there's not much to say. I started working here when I was eighteen; I needed a job to support myself. I wasn't married like many of my friends." I gaze at my hands for a second. "I guess it's been pretty good." I pause. I am completely lying, and I don't like it. But if it helps me get through the last few minutes of this luncheon, then that's what I'll do.
Tom and Greg continue to talk over me. Tom sneezes in my food, but it's not like I was going to eat it anyway. I spot cockroach number two at the edge of the table.
Kate continues the conversation. "Yeah, I guess it's okay here. Maybe I'll wind up staying as long as you did." She frowns. "What else did you think of it?"
"Well--"
Just then, Greg, in an attempt to jump into our conversation and awkwardly hug me, knocks a dish of soy sauce on my new purse.
"What--why don't you--" I don't even know what to say.
"Oh well, it's just a bag, hun." Greg grins. "When I see the waitress, I'll ask her for some more napkins. What were you two ladies talking about?"
I can't take it anymore. "Well, Greg, we were talking about what I thought about working here for the past forty two years. And you want to know something? I've had a lot of incompetent bosses in those past four decades, but none were as incompetent and irreverant as you." I pause and take a stabilizing breath. "First of all, you continue to call me hun, even though I've asked you not to multiple times. It's rude and sexist to refer to me as 'hun.' I'm not your honey and I never will be."
"Hey, Cath--" Greg tries to interject.
"No, I should have said this a long time ago. You are immature, and you don't shower often enough--which is why I cringe every time you try to hug me. As for my going away party, you have taken me and two incompetent fools to a restaurant that should have been condemned by the board of health long ago, and you expect me to pay for my own meal and our dessert. Doesn't that just seem a bit wrong?" I'm raging now and I can't stop. My purse lies ruined on the seat, and cockroach number three has been attracted to the sauce on what used to be it's perfectly embossed fabric.
"Hey, did you forget to take your meds today?" Tom asks. He laughs, weezing, like this is a joke. Like he's my friend and he has my permission to joke with me this way.
"Don't let me get started with you. We are not friends. You're pathetically emotional. You cry at everything, and you are probably one of the most disgusting people I have met in all my 60 years of life. If I was your mother I would be ashamed of you. You pick your nose multiple times a day and either eat the boogers or wipe them under your desk. Don't think I haven't noticed." My voice waivers a bit as I see he is beginning to cry. I was a bit sooner than I expected, but I am so emotionally removed that I don't care. "And you continue to refer to me as some 'old hag' or 'bag of bones' or 'senile sally' or whatever your not-as-clever-as-you-think mind comes up with. It's rude. People are supposed to respect people that are older then them--I have more intellegence and experience than you, and I deserve your respect."
Finally, I turn on Kate. But there, I realize I have nothing really to say. My anger cools a bit as I see her eyes shining. She is finally showing some vivaciousness. "Kate, I'm sorry i called you a fool a minute ago. But I have some advice--stop following this jerk" I point to Greg "around. He's not going to help you move on in life. He's not going to do anything except belittle you and ruin what youth you have by wasting it at the office. Go find a better place to make your living. Do something extraordinary. But don't stay here as long as I did. In fact, leave as soon as you can." With that, I pick up my soy sauce stained bag, wipe it on Greg's jacket, and leave, without paying my tab. I hope Kate doesn't get stuck covering it.
I guess I've still got some life in me, even after forty two years of keeping quiet. I clamber into my car, turn it on, and put my Josh Groban casette into the tape deck, hoping it will calm me down. When I look up, Kate is standing outside my passenger side door, waving and smiling. I roll down the window.
"I knew you had it in you. I've been waiting for you to give it to them for ages. Why else would I follow Greg to your desk?" She smiles. "Can I get a ride?"
Have a great evening :)
I still haven't decided what I'm getting for many of my family members. I'll figure it out. Also, I have to get a gift for my family's yankee swap; something in the range of $20 to $25. I think I might get a movie or something. I'll have to see what's available.
The snow these past few days has been pretty crazy, and I've almost wiped out walking into buildings with slippery floors multiple times. It's pretty treacherous. But the snow makes everything look pretty, even if it is more difficult to get around. I would post pictures of campus and everything, but I'm not sure where my camera is at this moment; plus, I'm exhausted and just want to hang inside for a bit before drifting off into a heavy sleep.
I decided to do this writers prompt from the website "Writer's Digest."
After 42 years with your company, the day has finally arrived: your last day of work. Your coworkers throw you a lunch retirement party. After cake, one coworker asks you to reflect on your years with the company. So you do—and you hold nothing back.
Here's my response:
It's a cold afternoon, a week and a half before Christmas. I walk, wrapped in my oldest wool coat, to those doors for a final time. My last day (well, half day) of work. I can't believe I'm finally leaving this crummy office. I already cleaned out my cubicle yesterday; I chuckled to myself while Tom silently sobbed at his desk, which shares the cubicle with mine. Maybe that was mean, but I couldn't help it. Getting away from his disgusting habits is one of the many sweet things about retirement.
Today, Greg is supposedly going to get the office together to give me a "going away party." What that really means is that he's probably having us all go to the crappy chinese food place down the street--Chang's Dynasty--and have us pay our own way. Any time I've been there I've seen at least four cockroaches. I've actually kept a count--up until today I've seen, total, 389 cockroaches in that place, including one cooked in my lo mein. Years ago I suggested a different venue for our office luncheons; Greg took it as a personal insult and instead ignored all of my work for the next week. Normally, I would welcome him being silent, but when he ignored me, he instead talked to Tom and said, "Could you tell Cathy blah blah blah." It was more annoying than his normal personality.
I sit down at my desk and awkwardly turn to Tom, expecting his usual overexuberant, "Hey, Catarina!" with some added embaressing comment about my age. Yes, I am the oldest person in this office. But do I need to be reminded of it daily? Instead, he has already begun sobbing. Pathetic. I don't acknowledge it, and instead turn back to my desk. I carefully remove the latest Danielle Steele novel--I'm a sucker for romance--from my new Coach bag that my husband gave me in celebration of my retirement. I've been aching over this purse for a year, so I can't help but show it off, even if it is to people that I can barely stand.
After reading chapter or two, Greg and his secretary, Kate, approach my desk. For some reason she always follows him around, but rarely says anything. "So, hun, how's it hanging?" Greg asks.
I just stare at him. I'm almost twice his age, but he feels the need to call me "hun." I've always thought he was threatened by my work ethic; I was offered his position before he was brought into the office, but I declined, since I didn't need the extra headache of running this place. I would not have enjoyed worrying about the office in my spare time in addition to loathing being there during the day.
Kate just stands there, biting the black nail polish from her withered fingernails.
Tom sniffles loudly. I look over my shoulder and see he has his pinky up his nose. Lovely.
"Well, it's almost noon time. Lunch." He pauses, looking around awkwardly like trying to find something to say. He then looks at me for a good thirty seconds.
I stare straight back into his watery little eyes.
"You must be so upset to be leaving; you've been here, what, 50 years?"
I shake my head. It's been 42, but there's no need to correct him. The least interaction, the better. I am getting paid for these last few hours.
"Well, I know I'm glad--and you must be too--you came in for the half day today." He rocks back and forth from his heels to his toes.
"You made me come in for the half day. My husband and I had planned for a day off to visit our grandchildren." As much as I've told myself not to react to him, I can't help it. He always acts like no one could want anything better than spending time with him.
"You'll have plenty of time for your grandchildren. Anyhow, I just wanted to tell you to get your coat on and grab your wallet. Let's get lunch!"
And with that he walks off, Kate in tow.
Well, we receive our egg drop soups, and I pretend to sip mine. Better not actually eat anything here. It's an all day buffet, so there's one price for everything; I'm tempted to just get a glass of water and not eat, but that's not polite, and I have too much dignity for that.
Only Greg, Tom and Kate come. Granted, the office is small with only seven people in it; apparently, no one else wanted to come to Chang's. Go figure. Greg and Tom are on each side of me, talking across me as if I'm not there. Even though this is my going away lunch, right now I'm allowed to fade into the cracking faux leather seats. Kate gazes into her soup, not touching it, and then removes a brush from her duct-tape bag and begins to groom herself at the table. Were none of these people taught manners when they were younger? Not that it matters anyway; in this dump of a restaurant, brushing your hair at the table may improve the cleanliness.
I spot cockroach number on crawling on the wall across our table.
After we eat, Tom orders some fried concoction that's apparently supposed to be dessert. After it arrives at the table, he turns to me and says, "You got this, right? I mean, it is your party." I just ignore it. I keep counting down in my head--only an hour and a half to go. Just breathe. It's only a few dollars. It's worth it to prevent any further annoyance on my last day.
Kate, for once, comes out of her daze and glances over at me. She's a young girl, about twenty one or twenty two, I'd guess. She has jet black eyes, and, though I've never noticed before, they actually seem warm and welcoming. She chews on the edge of her lip and asks me, "You've been here since before I was born, right? That's a hell of a lot of time. What have you thought of being here that long?"
Obviously, I am taken aback. I've barely said two words to Kate since she started working here after she graduated high school. "Well, there's not much to say. I started working here when I was eighteen; I needed a job to support myself. I wasn't married like many of my friends." I gaze at my hands for a second. "I guess it's been pretty good." I pause. I am completely lying, and I don't like it. But if it helps me get through the last few minutes of this luncheon, then that's what I'll do.
Tom and Greg continue to talk over me. Tom sneezes in my food, but it's not like I was going to eat it anyway. I spot cockroach number two at the edge of the table.
Kate continues the conversation. "Yeah, I guess it's okay here. Maybe I'll wind up staying as long as you did." She frowns. "What else did you think of it?"
"Well--"
Just then, Greg, in an attempt to jump into our conversation and awkwardly hug me, knocks a dish of soy sauce on my new purse.
"What--why don't you--" I don't even know what to say.
"Oh well, it's just a bag, hun." Greg grins. "When I see the waitress, I'll ask her for some more napkins. What were you two ladies talking about?"
I can't take it anymore. "Well, Greg, we were talking about what I thought about working here for the past forty two years. And you want to know something? I've had a lot of incompetent bosses in those past four decades, but none were as incompetent and irreverant as you." I pause and take a stabilizing breath. "First of all, you continue to call me hun, even though I've asked you not to multiple times. It's rude and sexist to refer to me as 'hun.' I'm not your honey and I never will be."
"Hey, Cath--" Greg tries to interject.
"No, I should have said this a long time ago. You are immature, and you don't shower often enough--which is why I cringe every time you try to hug me. As for my going away party, you have taken me and two incompetent fools to a restaurant that should have been condemned by the board of health long ago, and you expect me to pay for my own meal and our dessert. Doesn't that just seem a bit wrong?" I'm raging now and I can't stop. My purse lies ruined on the seat, and cockroach number three has been attracted to the sauce on what used to be it's perfectly embossed fabric.
"Hey, did you forget to take your meds today?" Tom asks. He laughs, weezing, like this is a joke. Like he's my friend and he has my permission to joke with me this way.
"Don't let me get started with you. We are not friends. You're pathetically emotional. You cry at everything, and you are probably one of the most disgusting people I have met in all my 60 years of life. If I was your mother I would be ashamed of you. You pick your nose multiple times a day and either eat the boogers or wipe them under your desk. Don't think I haven't noticed." My voice waivers a bit as I see he is beginning to cry. I was a bit sooner than I expected, but I am so emotionally removed that I don't care. "And you continue to refer to me as some 'old hag' or 'bag of bones' or 'senile sally' or whatever your not-as-clever-as-you-think mind comes up with. It's rude. People are supposed to respect people that are older then them--I have more intellegence and experience than you, and I deserve your respect."
Finally, I turn on Kate. But there, I realize I have nothing really to say. My anger cools a bit as I see her eyes shining. She is finally showing some vivaciousness. "Kate, I'm sorry i called you a fool a minute ago. But I have some advice--stop following this jerk" I point to Greg "around. He's not going to help you move on in life. He's not going to do anything except belittle you and ruin what youth you have by wasting it at the office. Go find a better place to make your living. Do something extraordinary. But don't stay here as long as I did. In fact, leave as soon as you can." With that, I pick up my soy sauce stained bag, wipe it on Greg's jacket, and leave, without paying my tab. I hope Kate doesn't get stuck covering it.
I guess I've still got some life in me, even after forty two years of keeping quiet. I clamber into my car, turn it on, and put my Josh Groban casette into the tape deck, hoping it will calm me down. When I look up, Kate is standing outside my passenger side door, waving and smiling. I roll down the window.
"I knew you had it in you. I've been waiting for you to give it to them for ages. Why else would I follow Greg to your desk?" She smiles. "Can I get a ride?"
Have a great evening :)
Saturday, December 20, 2008
I think he's probably a monster
Charles Murray--Man or fictional monster?
Ok, so I guess he's literally a man (though I think, depending on your definition of monster, he could be both). But seriously, what time period is he from? Probably the 60s, because he has to be smoking something.
For those of you who don't know, he wrote a book titled "The Bell Curve" and a subsequent essay 10 years later; in both documents he basically twisted scientific research to support his own ideas, and added a few assumptions presented as fact along the way. Can you say confirmation bias?
I had to read an article of his for my final tomorrow; we discussed it in class a while ago, and though I thought his ideas were stupid then, I'm realizing just how even more ridiculous they are now that I've fully read the article. Please. Suggesting that there is a genetic difference in the intelligence of men and women or the intelligence of blacks and whites? Seriously? People are still doing that today?
I hope he cried when Obama was elected. I really do. *Laughs at the thought.*
You may ask, why is she blogging about this? Isn't she tired and doesn't she have a final to study for? Yes I am exhausted. Yes I still have over 1/2 of my studying to do. Yes, I think Charles Murray is a ho-bag, which is why I feel the need to write all this out.
So take this Charles Murray--I'm a woman and I spotted at least 15 holes in your arguments in a 10 page paper. So, basically, I owned you, and you think that I should inherently (actually no, not inherently; you don't like that word. I mean "intractably") be worse than you in general intelligence level (since I'm guessing you think you're one of the "extremes" of intelligence that you talk about). So, chew on that.
Maybe, when I'm a top doctor and you have some disease when you're old and decrepit, you'll come to me and ask me what's wrong with you. If this happens, I'll smile sweetly and say "Oh, I'm not sure, because I'm just a woman; since this is science it's not really my gender's area of expertise (even if I am a doctor and did go through medical school and subsequent years of training in a residency). You should be able to diagnose yourself though, right? I mean, isn't this a man's realm?"
OK, maybe I'm stretching what he's saying. He's not saying all men are better at math and science. But he IS saying that they are genetically predisposed to be better. And that is ludicrous. Just as ludicrous as his claims that whites are genetically more intelligent than blacks. Ridiculous.
Well, back to the studying. I just felt like writing something about how Charles Murray is probably the stupidest supposedly smart person I've ever heard of.
Ok, so I guess he's literally a man (though I think, depending on your definition of monster, he could be both). But seriously, what time period is he from? Probably the 60s, because he has to be smoking something.
For those of you who don't know, he wrote a book titled "The Bell Curve" and a subsequent essay 10 years later; in both documents he basically twisted scientific research to support his own ideas, and added a few assumptions presented as fact along the way. Can you say confirmation bias?
I had to read an article of his for my final tomorrow; we discussed it in class a while ago, and though I thought his ideas were stupid then, I'm realizing just how even more ridiculous they are now that I've fully read the article. Please. Suggesting that there is a genetic difference in the intelligence of men and women or the intelligence of blacks and whites? Seriously? People are still doing that today?
I hope he cried when Obama was elected. I really do. *Laughs at the thought.*
You may ask, why is she blogging about this? Isn't she tired and doesn't she have a final to study for? Yes I am exhausted. Yes I still have over 1/2 of my studying to do. Yes, I think Charles Murray is a ho-bag, which is why I feel the need to write all this out.
So take this Charles Murray--I'm a woman and I spotted at least 15 holes in your arguments in a 10 page paper. So, basically, I owned you, and you think that I should inherently (actually no, not inherently; you don't like that word. I mean "intractably") be worse than you in general intelligence level (since I'm guessing you think you're one of the "extremes" of intelligence that you talk about). So, chew on that.
Maybe, when I'm a top doctor and you have some disease when you're old and decrepit, you'll come to me and ask me what's wrong with you. If this happens, I'll smile sweetly and say "Oh, I'm not sure, because I'm just a woman; since this is science it's not really my gender's area of expertise (even if I am a doctor and did go through medical school and subsequent years of training in a residency). You should be able to diagnose yourself though, right? I mean, isn't this a man's realm?"
OK, maybe I'm stretching what he's saying. He's not saying all men are better at math and science. But he IS saying that they are genetically predisposed to be better. And that is ludicrous. Just as ludicrous as his claims that whites are genetically more intelligent than blacks. Ridiculous.
Well, back to the studying. I just felt like writing something about how Charles Murray is probably the stupidest supposedly smart person I've ever heard of.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Am I getting older?
I feel like an old woman. Seriously. I have a crick in my neck that won't go away, and my limbs are stiff after sitting "Indian-style" in bed for 20 minutes, and when I try to movie it's really difficult. Plus, it's only 8pm and I want to go to sleep. This is the affect finals has on me.
I only have one left, but it's the mother of all finals--Animal Behavior. I loved the class; it was super interesting and the professor is really enthusiastic. But there is so much material, and I'm just starting to study. I think I need a cup of tea to keep myself awake.
I learned a new life lesson today. It's something I have learned before but just didn't take to heart. Here it is: You can't trust anyone more than you trust yourself. No matter how much you want to, you can't. Now I don't mean in a life-or-death situation way; what I mean is that if you have a gut feeling about something, then go with that gut feeling. For example, for my final today on Cognitive Psychology, I had reviewed most of the material once. However, we'd watched 4 movies in class, and I wanted to go back over them. Each one was between a 1/2 hour and an hour long, and I thought that, if the professor had taken the time to show them, then it would be good to go back over them.
However, a friend of mine in the class had gone to the last class of the semester, and I had not. When I was asking them if the professor had said anything about the exam set-up, they said that they couldn't remember, but that the professor had said that the movies "wouldn't play a large part" in the exam and that we just needed to know "general topics." Well, the general topics of the movies were also in the lecture notes. So, even though I thought that the movies were going to be important, my friend had said that the professor said they weren't that important, so I didn't re-watch them.
When I arrived at the exam today, I felt really well prepared. I'd made flashcards for all the material and gone over it multiple times. However, upon receiving the test, I noticed almost the whole short answer section was from the videos, which I hadn't reviewed. In going over the exam, about 20% of the material was from those videos. I was a bit upset with myself, as you can imagine. I was on the edge of an A and an A-; now I'm not sure that I'll get even an A-. So that's that. Live and learn. That's how it goes. From now on, I am vowing to myself that I will study how I think it is best, and not listen to others. Let them do what they think is best, and I'll do what I think is best. Then we'll see who winds up on top.
Oh, and a biology fact? Instead I have decided to post this cartoon:
It's by someone named Joe Sayers; so kudos to him. This work is his work, not mine. I just really thought it was funny.
I only have one left, but it's the mother of all finals--Animal Behavior. I loved the class; it was super interesting and the professor is really enthusiastic. But there is so much material, and I'm just starting to study. I think I need a cup of tea to keep myself awake.
I learned a new life lesson today. It's something I have learned before but just didn't take to heart. Here it is: You can't trust anyone more than you trust yourself. No matter how much you want to, you can't. Now I don't mean in a life-or-death situation way; what I mean is that if you have a gut feeling about something, then go with that gut feeling. For example, for my final today on Cognitive Psychology, I had reviewed most of the material once. However, we'd watched 4 movies in class, and I wanted to go back over them. Each one was between a 1/2 hour and an hour long, and I thought that, if the professor had taken the time to show them, then it would be good to go back over them.
However, a friend of mine in the class had gone to the last class of the semester, and I had not. When I was asking them if the professor had said anything about the exam set-up, they said that they couldn't remember, but that the professor had said that the movies "wouldn't play a large part" in the exam and that we just needed to know "general topics." Well, the general topics of the movies were also in the lecture notes. So, even though I thought that the movies were going to be important, my friend had said that the professor said they weren't that important, so I didn't re-watch them.
When I arrived at the exam today, I felt really well prepared. I'd made flashcards for all the material and gone over it multiple times. However, upon receiving the test, I noticed almost the whole short answer section was from the videos, which I hadn't reviewed. In going over the exam, about 20% of the material was from those videos. I was a bit upset with myself, as you can imagine. I was on the edge of an A and an A-; now I'm not sure that I'll get even an A-. So that's that. Live and learn. That's how it goes. From now on, I am vowing to myself that I will study how I think it is best, and not listen to others. Let them do what they think is best, and I'll do what I think is best. Then we'll see who winds up on top.
Oh, and a biology fact? Instead I have decided to post this cartoon:
It's by someone named Joe Sayers; so kudos to him. This work is his work, not mine. I just really thought it was funny.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
My brain is fried, but I still have 2 more finals. I was attempting to study for Cognitive Psychology, but it wasn't working. My mind keeps wandering.Like one time, I was talking to this kid who I'm pretty sure was really high. He said, "You know, how does that work." When I asked him what he was talking about, he said "Those duck-hunt Nintendo guns. How do they work? I mean, you point them at the TV, but how do they know that's where the gun is pointing. That's pretty high tech."
Now, this kid used to get on my nerves a lot, but he had a point. How do those things work? Well, I have a distraction oriented mind, so I decided to take a break from the psych studying to look it up. Apparently, the gun detects the white light of the duck from the TV screen, and if it is aligned correctly, the game registers a hit. Pretty genius! If you want to read about it, see this link.
-Margo
PS--Biology "fact" (I've been saying fact; but much of what I've been posting are really theories or trends from data): Many studies on homosexuality have shown that there may be both genetic and environmental factors determining if a person is or is not a homosexual. However, there is another trend apparent: the more older brothers a guy has, the more likely he is to be homosexual. Interesting, huh?
A little poetry (for serious!) and other things.
Two finals done :)
Tomorrow is a day off (though I do have to work and meet with my supervisor), so I can catch up for studying for my other two finals. I also wanted to catch up watching House, but unfortunately there wasn't an episode yesterday, and there isn't going to be another one until January 19th. I'll have to occupy myself with other things until then.
Here's a nice sonnet I wrote a little while ago. It's titled Earthen Sky.
The clouds are lazy, dipping, diving slow,
So each one seems a giant spool of air-
Filled cotton candy. If the world would care
To flip, I could be there, I'd stand below
The ground as cushions made of water blow
Away from here, and I'd be standing there,
On clouds like finest silk, my body bare
But wrapped in fluffy goodness as its clothes.
A throne, my seat below the Earthen Sky,
So soft and gentle, laying down I could
Be watching mountains, oceans floating by
And if my lips allowed escape a sigh,
Contentment, it would signify. I would
Continue there, below the Earthen Sky.
I wrote that last year for a class. I liked it, so I figured I'd post it.
I also have some time, so I figured I'd share a story. About a month ago, a friend of mine and I were gallivanting around Boston, MA. We hadn't seen each other for a few months, and so we had a lot to catch up on. We often like to do random spontaneous things together, so we decided to go to the first Church of the Christian Scientists and check it out. Although we've both lived in Boston for a while, we'd never been there, and it was supposed to have a really cool globe that you walk through there (I had no idea what that would look like before I went), and we figured it would be the first stop on our day of adventure. Let me tell you, that place is AWESOME. I am by no means a Christian Scientist (I mean, I support modern medical tactics so much that I am applying to medical school), but their area is really cool looking. They also have an awesome reflection pool--my friend and I wanted to jump in it, except that it was cold out and it looked like it was snowing. They also have a museum there to Mary Baker Eddy, the founder to Christian Science, and the Mapparium, which is pretty cool to check out--it's a giant glass globe that you walk through. In addition, they have a place in the museum where you can make your own personalize clip-art kind of picture dealing with spirituality and healing. My friend and I had some fun with that. After you make a picture, the picture is displayed on a giant projection screen for a while (at least a 1/2 hour, as we walked by the screen again before we left), so that others in the museum can see it. Basically, if you have time, go to the Christian Science Center and check it out.
After that, we went to this cafe and got lunch. It was some cafe near the Prudential building that serves breakfast all day long, and apparently had a giant fish on the door of the bathroom (I didn't see it, but my friend did). Following this, we walked to the Boston Common just to take a walk; there we saw this man, a dog, and a woman staring in the direction of the dog calling "Maple, maple, came back here." We figured she was calling the dog until the man and the dog walked away, and the woman was still calling for Maple. We then realized she was calling the gray squirrels, and she had a box of peanuts in her hand. We continued walking, but then turned around and sat back down on a bench nearby to watch her. She had names for all the squirrels. My friend thought she might have been an animal rescue person or something, but I think she was just crazy. However, she was dressed in a nice winter ski jacket and khaki's and some hiking boots, so if she was crazy, she was dressed well for a crazy person.
We enjoyed watching her for a little while. She even attempted climbing up one of the trees after one of the squirrels. After a while, the lady's friend showed up, and so we left and went to Newbury and Boylston Streets. Now, we didn't really have any money to buy stuff, but we couldn't help but stop at Filene's Basement. That place has some of the most awkward clothing. We each tried on the same outfit: a pair of hideous Armani pants that were priced at over $3,000 (these black pants with this god-awful red, green and gold pattern on them) and a violent magenta blouse that we couldn't figure how to wrap correctly. When we'd put the clothes on, we came out and laughed at each other. My friend claimed we were wairing pimp's pajamas. I wish I had a picture. PRICELESS.
Finally, we went on a quest for cupcakes, but did not find any. Instead, we walked all the way to Cambridge to some place that had make your own S'mores, which was a decent substitute. That was probably the greatest day of this whole semester, just because it was so spontaneous and amazing. Oh, the things you can do with practically empty pockets and imagination.
Until next time
-Margz
PS--Bio fact: I think I bombed my mammology final, and one of the short answers dealt with an oosik (but I got that one right :) )
But for a real fact (more psychology than biology, but to me they are both interconnected): people remember faces wholistically rather than by parts, which is why facial composites created by witnesses to crimes are often not accurate. (Wells and Hasel, 2007)
Tomorrow is a day off (though I do have to work and meet with my supervisor), so I can catch up for studying for my other two finals. I also wanted to catch up watching House, but unfortunately there wasn't an episode yesterday, and there isn't going to be another one until January 19th. I'll have to occupy myself with other things until then.
Here's a nice sonnet I wrote a little while ago. It's titled Earthen Sky.
The clouds are lazy, dipping, diving slow,
So each one seems a giant spool of air-
Filled cotton candy. If the world would care
To flip, I could be there, I'd stand below
The ground as cushions made of water blow
Away from here, and I'd be standing there,
On clouds like finest silk, my body bare
But wrapped in fluffy goodness as its clothes.
A throne, my seat below the Earthen Sky,
So soft and gentle, laying down I could
Be watching mountains, oceans floating by
And if my lips allowed escape a sigh,
Contentment, it would signify. I would
Continue there, below the Earthen Sky.
I wrote that last year for a class. I liked it, so I figured I'd post it.
I also have some time, so I figured I'd share a story. About a month ago, a friend of mine and I were gallivanting around Boston, MA. We hadn't seen each other for a few months, and so we had a lot to catch up on. We often like to do random spontaneous things together, so we decided to go to the first Church of the Christian Scientists and check it out. Although we've both lived in Boston for a while, we'd never been there, and it was supposed to have a really cool globe that you walk through there (I had no idea what that would look like before I went), and we figured it would be the first stop on our day of adventure. Let me tell you, that place is AWESOME. I am by no means a Christian Scientist (I mean, I support modern medical tactics so much that I am applying to medical school), but their area is really cool looking. They also have an awesome reflection pool--my friend and I wanted to jump in it, except that it was cold out and it looked like it was snowing. They also have a museum there to Mary Baker Eddy, the founder to Christian Science, and the Mapparium, which is pretty cool to check out--it's a giant glass globe that you walk through. In addition, they have a place in the museum where you can make your own personalize clip-art kind of picture dealing with spirituality and healing. My friend and I had some fun with that. After you make a picture, the picture is displayed on a giant projection screen for a while (at least a 1/2 hour, as we walked by the screen again before we left), so that others in the museum can see it. Basically, if you have time, go to the Christian Science Center and check it out.
After that, we went to this cafe and got lunch. It was some cafe near the Prudential building that serves breakfast all day long, and apparently had a giant fish on the door of the bathroom (I didn't see it, but my friend did). Following this, we walked to the Boston Common just to take a walk; there we saw this man, a dog, and a woman staring in the direction of the dog calling "Maple, maple, came back here." We figured she was calling the dog until the man and the dog walked away, and the woman was still calling for Maple. We then realized she was calling the gray squirrels, and she had a box of peanuts in her hand. We continued walking, but then turned around and sat back down on a bench nearby to watch her. She had names for all the squirrels. My friend thought she might have been an animal rescue person or something, but I think she was just crazy. However, she was dressed in a nice winter ski jacket and khaki's and some hiking boots, so if she was crazy, she was dressed well for a crazy person.
We enjoyed watching her for a little while. She even attempted climbing up one of the trees after one of the squirrels. After a while, the lady's friend showed up, and so we left and went to Newbury and Boylston Streets. Now, we didn't really have any money to buy stuff, but we couldn't help but stop at Filene's Basement. That place has some of the most awkward clothing. We each tried on the same outfit: a pair of hideous Armani pants that were priced at over $3,000 (these black pants with this god-awful red, green and gold pattern on them) and a violent magenta blouse that we couldn't figure how to wrap correctly. When we'd put the clothes on, we came out and laughed at each other. My friend claimed we were wairing pimp's pajamas. I wish I had a picture. PRICELESS.
Finally, we went on a quest for cupcakes, but did not find any. Instead, we walked all the way to Cambridge to some place that had make your own S'mores, which was a decent substitute. That was probably the greatest day of this whole semester, just because it was so spontaneous and amazing. Oh, the things you can do with practically empty pockets and imagination.
Until next time
-Margz
PS--Bio fact: I think I bombed my mammology final, and one of the short answers dealt with an oosik (but I got that one right :) )
But for a real fact (more psychology than biology, but to me they are both interconnected): people remember faces wholistically rather than by parts, which is why facial composites created by witnesses to crimes are often not accurate. (Wells and Hasel, 2007)
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Looks like another all-nighter for me. Goodness gracious, what a day.
However, I have decided to write to you all about something that is bothering me. I often feel like, when I begin writing, I have almost nothing to write about, but that I still want to write. As such, if you are just visiting my blog for the first time or if you are a returner, if you have any ideas you would like me to write about, hear my opinion on, or just in general anything at all, please feel free to comment any time and let me know.
I also wanted to talk about caffeinated beverages. Sometimes, I wonder where the world would be without them. I'm not sure what culture can take credit for the idea of drinking beverages with caffeine (I'm sure it's multiple, as many drinks themselves have caffeine), but whatever culture(s) it is, the world is in debt to you. Most people have probably heard the slogan "America Runs on Dunkin'" for Dunkin' Donuts, and that's almost true. Although America does not run on their exact brand of coffee, I know many people that can't get out of bed in the morning without a cup of tea or coffee. I, personally, only drink caffeinated drinks once and a while, but during finals period, I just keep drinking them. Of course, it helps that I got a free 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew.
Although I wish I could just curl up in a ball and go to bed right now, I think I am going to instead make myself another pot of tea, and continue studying about the vomeronasal organ in rodents and infrasonic production in mystecites. Good night.
Bio fact--the vomeronasal organ is a waste of my time.
However, I have decided to write to you all about something that is bothering me. I often feel like, when I begin writing, I have almost nothing to write about, but that I still want to write. As such, if you are just visiting my blog for the first time or if you are a returner, if you have any ideas you would like me to write about, hear my opinion on, or just in general anything at all, please feel free to comment any time and let me know.
I also wanted to talk about caffeinated beverages. Sometimes, I wonder where the world would be without them. I'm not sure what culture can take credit for the idea of drinking beverages with caffeine (I'm sure it's multiple, as many drinks themselves have caffeine), but whatever culture(s) it is, the world is in debt to you. Most people have probably heard the slogan "America Runs on Dunkin'" for Dunkin' Donuts, and that's almost true. Although America does not run on their exact brand of coffee, I know many people that can't get out of bed in the morning without a cup of tea or coffee. I, personally, only drink caffeinated drinks once and a while, but during finals period, I just keep drinking them. Of course, it helps that I got a free 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew.
Although I wish I could just curl up in a ball and go to bed right now, I think I am going to instead make myself another pot of tea, and continue studying about the vomeronasal organ in rodents and infrasonic production in mystecites. Good night.
Bio fact--the vomeronasal organ is a waste of my time.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
A break for me
Why are all these people happy? No one I know would be remotely this happy while doing homework and studying. Especially the first two with their piles of books. Clip art is so unrealistic.
Taking a break so that hopefully I will be able to focus after this.
Here is a fun and nonserious poem that I have decided to write. It is titled Books.
some books are great
they stimulate
you to create
a world awaits
but texts, BORING
i want to fling
my ears do ring
with text book things
can't concentrate
but tests await
i want to sing
do anything
but read this crap.
PS, you may not realize it, but this poem has perfect meter and rhyme scheme except for two deliberate exceptions--the change in the meter in the line that ends with BORING, and the last line which adds an extra line that does not rhyme with anything. I did this on purpose--Shakespeare and other great poets did stuff like that on purpose too; obviously this poem ranks with those. Add it to your Greatest Classics collection.
OK, back to the books. I don't know or care if i did a bio fact for the day. I don't think i did. Whatevs.
Goodnight to everyone that doesn't have to stay up. Wish me luck on my exams in the next week :).
Monday, December 15, 2008
Walking down the street can be quite educational
At least I've been studying a bit. I also am in the process of submitting 2 more applications (woop-dee-doo). The website for one application keeps stalling out, so because of this I've decided to take a break while it takes fifteen minutes to load.
I realized something interesting today. There are some people in the world that are really fake, and you can't help but dislike them, even if you don't know them that well. There is this one girl at school here, and when I first met her, she seemed nice. We were part of our residence's student government together when I was a sophomore and she was a freshman. However, the more I got to know her the more I realized her giant smiles with those little peg-teeth were full of fake emotion. She didn't really care about anyone there at all--it was all an act. I saw her walking down the street today, and as I passed her, our eyes met, so I waved and she gave me that smile--ugh. It sends shivers down my spine at how over exaggerated it is. But then again, I realized that I don't really like her much, so my smile was fake too. I just hope it wasn't as obviously cheesily fake and horrid as hers.
But I also realized, in that same encounter, that dispite disliking someone there are some things that you can't help liking about them. For example, depsite this girl's terrible smile and overall not attractiveness, she has the best posture out of anyone I have ever seen (rivalling one of my friends in high school who had been a dancer her whole life). It's not that I like that she has great posture. It's more that I'm jealous that she has great posture. Despite disliking her, I still am jealous of the fact that she always carries herself with poise and confidence. Whenever I see her, it almost serves as a reminder to push my shoulders back and my sternum up and out.
It's cool how you discover these little interesting life lessons just while hurriedly walking down a crowded street.
PS--bio fact of the day
Human hair on average grows at a rate of a 1/2 inch per month.
I realized something interesting today. There are some people in the world that are really fake, and you can't help but dislike them, even if you don't know them that well. There is this one girl at school here, and when I first met her, she seemed nice. We were part of our residence's student government together when I was a sophomore and she was a freshman. However, the more I got to know her the more I realized her giant smiles with those little peg-teeth were full of fake emotion. She didn't really care about anyone there at all--it was all an act. I saw her walking down the street today, and as I passed her, our eyes met, so I waved and she gave me that smile--ugh. It sends shivers down my spine at how over exaggerated it is. But then again, I realized that I don't really like her much, so my smile was fake too. I just hope it wasn't as obviously cheesily fake and horrid as hers.
But I also realized, in that same encounter, that dispite disliking someone there are some things that you can't help liking about them. For example, depsite this girl's terrible smile and overall not attractiveness, she has the best posture out of anyone I have ever seen (rivalling one of my friends in high school who had been a dancer her whole life). It's not that I like that she has great posture. It's more that I'm jealous that she has great posture. Despite disliking her, I still am jealous of the fact that she always carries herself with poise and confidence. Whenever I see her, it almost serves as a reminder to push my shoulders back and my sternum up and out.
It's cool how you discover these little interesting life lessons just while hurriedly walking down a crowded street.
PS--bio fact of the day
Human hair on average grows at a rate of a 1/2 inch per month.
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