Early morning ramblings

Regardless of how I feel about my location, or my immense fear of failure at several potential benchmarks over the next several years, or how hard all of this is, I gotta say that I really can't imagine doing anything else with my life. Everything that happens makes me want to do a psych experiment.

Take, for example, interactions between new people. I'm always amazed when I meet someone new and we just "click" and it's like I'm talking to an old friend, someone who knows me and just... understands. I'm sure that there are attraction studies that I can track down that explain this very phenomenon, but it's just... nice. And interesting. And yet another reminder, that despite the fact that I had ~300 pages to read this week, plus a presentation to prepare, plus an altruism scale to find, plus things like eating and sleeping, I really do love what I do. And I really do have to say that I'm really happy with my cohort. And that my facebook stalking was wrong on almost all accounts, but in a good way. On that note, I do have to say that I have met plenty of new people for the time being, thank you very much. It's all a little overwhelming.

There's also a bit of culture shock. And I know that I'm annoying, always asking about things and commenting on how different it is back home, but back home is on my mind most of the time, and we all know how bad I am at self-regulation. The differences in little things are pretty pronounced, too. There are only 2 people in the program from North of the Mason-Dixon, and only two people from West of Texas. 3 of us are women, and we are consistently the most overdressed in the group. Wearing things that are fairly casual back home is waaaaaaay overdressed here, and I always end up feeling/looking like I'm trying too hard, but I'm just too vain to skip the makeup. Maybe that's the narcissism talking, but I just can't do it. I am quickly falling in love with "y'all" though. It's just adorable. I don't interact with very many people who have a thick accent, so I don't think I'll pick one up, but I've already started saying "y'all."

The time difference is also causing some problems. I'm having a hard time falling asleep on East Coast time, but because I haven't gotten around to it/can't really afford it, I haven't bought curtains yet. That means I'm still waking up on East Coast time, which is leading to 4 hours of sleep. Right now, it's 3 AM, and even though I woke up at 7 this morning (yes, that's right folks, we had a professional development class at 9 on a holiday), I am wide awake (also just realized I've been awake for 20 straight hours and am horrified). The massive amounts of socializing are not helping matters much either--Friday I was out until 4, Saturday until 2 (?) and I know I didn't fall asleep for at least an hour. I tried to be better tonight, deciding to stay in and bond with my roommate over boy talks and True Blood* and meeting our neighbors while watching the rain, but, alas, it didn't help. I really need to get some work done if I'm going to be up this late, so goodnight, readers.

*Which is totally jumping the shark, btw. This season is completely ridiculous, even with the massive suspension of reality required for a show about telepathic faery waitresses who date vampires and are friends with were people (animals?).

Here's to new experiences and making it work.

So I'm settling in. It's not SO bad here. I mean, a grid system would still be nice. And if they could figure out how to make cell/radio reception better around the trees, that would be helpful. And allow you to make left turns instead of constantly having to make U-Turns. But I'm going to be OK, I think.

My roommate came to me today and asked if I was really afraid of spiders. I told her that I'm not fond of them, but if she was really afraid, I'd be the designated spider killer. That talk reminded me about my personal thoughts about phobias. There are a lot of things that I'm afraid of--believe me. And there are a lot of things that could stop me dead, if I'd let them. But I don't. I'm too stubborn for that.* I think it's good that she reminded me that I'm not one to let my fears cripple me. I'm stronger than that. And you know what, every time I've stared down a fear, I've been better for it. In retrospect, not letting my fears stop me from doing something, whether it was staying at CIY last summer, or presenting at the conferences, or talking to someone, or riding a rollercoaster, I've always been glad that I could do it. I've always been proud of myself for sticking it out when it got hard. So this move? This move is just like those things. I might not like it here, but I can do it. I can even do it well, and maybe grow to like it. And after meeting with the postdoc on the project I'm on here, and being assured that there is plenty of structure and that I have plenty of support from the faculty and other people on the project, I think it will be even less scary than spiders, sooner or later.

Dr. Memory, my graduate student friend from far, far away also gave me a nice clock metaphor to help with the transition. He said that so far, I've been a gear in a clock at home, and my family, and my friends, and the old lab group, and the old school, and church, and the old job, and the old city have all rubbed me down to fit more smoothly in that clock, and I haven't even noticed it, because it's been subtle and gradual. Now, I'm in a new clock, and it'll be rough for some time, while the new town, and the new people, and the new church, and the new school, and the new friends, and the new home, and the new lab group all rub me down to fit into this new clock. And it might hurt, while the edges are smoothed over, but in the end, I'll be a more diverse piece. I'll know new things and new people and be a better gear when I leave here.

I've been exercising (what?! I know.) for the last few days. That, and having to climb 3 flights of stairs every day is making my formerly giant behind (giant for a white girl, anyway) quickly disappear. On the one hand, it's nice because my love handles are also going away, and the jeans that I shrunk before I moved are still a little tight, but I can at least button them. However, my badonadonk** was sort of my trademark. They say that exercise is supposed to help your mental state, but I don't feel any more/less crazy when I do/don't exercise, and I've certainly never experienced a runner's high. I am pretty excited for yoga to start, though.

Tonight I'm going to go to a local bar (restaurant?) for trivia and socializing with a lot of the other graduate students. It should be a good time, I think. It will be nice to meet everyone and get out of the apartment for something not shopping- or school-related.

Also, a few weeks ago, Dad brought home a CD of some local artist who was playing in an airport (Dallas?) because he was so good that he made my Dad actually stop in an airport. That basically takes an act of God, so it was a big deal. I am deeply in love with all of his music, and you can listen to some here. His name is Brian Pounds and I sincerely hope he makes it, because he is lovely.

*When I was 9 months old, I was at a restaurant with my parents. I wanted to try the lemons that were on a plate for water and tea and such, but my mom, knowing I wouldn't like them, refused to give them to me. I kept fussing until she finally handed me the plate, thinking that one taste would end the incessant requests. I took one lick and obviously hated the sourness, but refused to give the lemons up and ate the whole plate. I was stubborn and spiteful at 9 months old. Who does that?

**Two things about this music video: Trace Adkins SHOULD NOT pretend to be a hip hop mogul, because he is NOT. Second of all, I don't know how any of those women had a hard time "[gettin] them britches on with that honky tonk badonkadonk" because at best, they barely qualified as having an ass, period, let alone a "badonkadonk."

So I've arrived at my new home. My Mom left this morning, and it was a lot harder than I was expecting. Being on my own, with no support system to speak of, is a lot harder than I was expecting.

My last semester of undergrad, I moved from the local, smaller campus where I had been for all of the previous semesters to the larger, flagship campus about 40 minutes away. My first day was terrible. I had been out late the night before and had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep. It was unbelievably hot, and the commuter bus I took was crowded and lacked air conditioning. I got lost. One of my syllabi was misprinted and I walked into the wrong class, late. I then realized that I was in the wrong classroom, but it was unbelievably too late to make it to the first class, so I walked across campus to visit a grad student friend who was not in his office. I then walked more across campus (it's several square miles) to my next class, only to discover that the class I thought was my second class was, in fact, my first class, which I had missed entirely and I had JUST enough time to book it back across campus to what I had thought was the first class. In 115+ degree weather. In a place where I knew no one and had no friends. It was a disaster. It was a terrible day. And the only reason I had taken the extra semester was to get myself to the point where I could more easily get into a program like the one I'm in now. Today was a much worse day than that day was. That day, at least I knew I had people when I finally made it home. I had people who cared about me and would make it better. Here, I am overwhelmingly alone. Yes, I have a roommate, and yes, she and her family are perfectly nice, but they are perfect strangers. I miss the gridsystem of my home town. I have no idea where anything is here, and being lost, on the wrong side of town, is panic-inducing. I have no one to call to rescue me when my GPS leads me astray, or when I'm suddenly on a freeway I didn't know was a freeway. Or when a road curves unexpectedly and becomes another road, which becomes a freeway, then curves again and becomes the original road again. No, I am not exaggerating. That is literally the geographic shitstorm that is this town.

I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss decent Mexican food. I miss grocery stores that sell tequila instead of pickled eggs. I miss my car. I miss dry heat. I miss my bed. I miss not having to buy everything new and having no money. I miss KNOWING the people around me. I miss my refrigerator that allows easy access for gallon-sized jugs (they get stuck in this one).

And I am trying really, really hard to not hate it here. I am trying to remember where everything is. I tried to be all calm and chill when my car broke literally 5 minutes after I got the keys. I tried to calmly find my way back to something I recognized when I got lost. I thought about going out tonight with some people from the program, I really did. But I am so alone, and I am so sad, and I just didn't know it was going to be this hard, so I just stayed home and ate this and watched this on Netflix. Neither really helped.

I'm sure, that like my experience at the flagship campus, I will eventually be glad I made the decision to come here. And I know that I will eventually not get lost every single time I leave my apartment. And I will make a friend or two. But right now, it's really hard to imagine that day.

This is the jumbled mess that happens when I only get 4 hours of sleep.

I am exhausted. My brain is sluggish. I was wide awake last night, and I am wide awake now, but oh-so-tired. When I get like this, my thoughts are a jumbled mess. I'm too tired to care. 

So the moving is starting to come along.... I did some packing with my dad last week. Now, I love my dad, and I really appreciate his help, but he does not understand me sometimes. Yes, my room was a complete disaster, with clothes literally everywhere. However, there was some semblance of order (it just wasn't apparent to him), so he just threw everything in a box. I have since kept going back to the boxes looking for pajamas and jeans and dress pants (things I would have neatly put in different boxes at a later date, because I still NEED my pajamas and jeans and dress pants for the next month), but whatever. My books are mostly packed. And some of my clothes. And the Christmas decorations. I'm making progress. Slowly. I freaking hate moving. BUT! I have a move in date. I fly out in 25 days. It's terribly exciting, except for the whole pain-in-the-butt parts. Like packing. And shipping. And lease-signing. And moving everything up to the third floor. And buying furniture. And a car. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to try to car shop from the other side of the country a month before you need the car? But I want options, dangit!

Recently, I've been thinking about all of the things I just do not understand. It's a long list.

-People who name their kids weird or stupid things. Now, I would never name my kid something like "Forever," but this is especially true for people whose last name is "Young." I also don't understand why people don't just let last names like "Buttz" die. I'm sorry, future husband, if you have a highly mock-able name like that, I'm not taking it and the kids are getting mine. They just are.
-Why we haven't figured out how to make healthy food taste better. I mean, really. I should be able to buy broccoli ice cream at this point that tastes like brownies. Science, get on that. Also, flying cars. I realize that would put my dad out of a job, but seriously.
-Why girls say they want a nice guy, but when are presented with one, couldn't get away fast enough, yet will trample their therapists to get to an a**hole who will ignore them and jerk them around. (Yes, I stole that "trampling their therapist" line from some advice columnist from some magazine or something and can't remember where. This isn't my thesis, I can plagarize if I want.) Yes, I include myself in this category. No, I don't understand why I do this.
-Lasik surgery on Groupon. If I'm going to let someone cut open my cornea and shoot lasers into my eyes, I'm damn well gonna pay full price.
-Why I can be falling asleep, right until I get into bed. Then I'm up for hours.
-Why shows in syndication always play the same episode over and over. In this period of under-employment, I've watched A LOT more television than any person really should, and I've learned that they will play the same episodes at least once a month, even though they have like 9 seasons' worth of material to work with.
-The entirety of the male species. I don't understand why they do about 96% if the things that they do, I don't WANT to understand why they do 3% and the other 1% is just sampling error.
-How normally I am a patient, understanding woman, but some things just drive me freaking nuts.
-Why people bother spending the time and money recording a cover song if the original is better. I really like country, and Blake Shelton's version of God Gave Me You would have fine if he had done it first, but he didn't. Dave Barns did. And Dave's is better.
-People who insist on paying cash. Use the freaking internet. It's easier and more eco-friendly for everyone involved if you're paying with a credit/debit card.
-Cold sales calls. If I wanted whatever it was you're selling, I would come to you. You calling, or worse, just stopping by and interrupting the workday and expecting to be accommodated really just pisses me off and makes me not want to buy from you.

I'm just so tired.

Being smart and hot are not mututally exclusive.

The idea that being beautiful and intelligent are mutually exclusive has been coming up again and again for me lately. Last week, while shopping with my parents, I picked out a hot pink purse. I'm super picky about purses. I am picky about the colors, the style, the number of pockets, where the zippers are, how long the shoulder straps are, the texture of the material... basically, out of the millions of purses out there, I only like a very small percentage. Unfortunately, the ones I like are way out of my price range more often than not. This is why I was very excited about my $35 find at Charming Charlie's. Showing my dad, expecting the obligatory endorsement of my choice, he said, "Are you sure? It's pink. When I see that I think Legally Blonde. I expect you to have a tiny dog poke out and bark at me." I reminded him that Elle Woods graduated first in her class from Harvard Law. He said, "It just doesn't make me want to take you seriously, to see you carrying around a pink purse." When I showed him a copper tote I was considering because it was a much prettier alternative to a Jansport, he pointed to a drab, multi-functional, poo-brown bag next to it and said, "This would be better. This is more serious." He's made similar comments when I pick out flashy shoes or overly frilly/sparkly/feminine clothes for work/interviews/school/conferences.

While I'm aware of the fact that appearances make a big difference in initial judgments (I'm as judgy of appearances as the next person, believe me), and I'm more than sure that some of the people men who stopped to look at my poster at the last conference I presented at did so at least partially for the "pretty girl presenter" factor (I say this because even though there seemed to be a similar number of men and women at the conference, more men than women stopped at my poster, and more men than women who stopped did not have related research interests). I also know that there are plenty of attractive, stylish people who are also incredibly intelligent, successful people. And I don't think you have to sacrifice looking nice to further yourself intellectually, and I don't think you have to dumb yourself down to be pretty. In fact, I feel LESS intelligent when I feel unattractive because my insecurity about my appearance saps my confidence and distracts me from the task at hand. Studies show that there may be a link between attractiveness and performance, and that there is a definite link between attractiveness and perceived ability.

And then I read this article on "How to Talk to Little Girls" that said, basically, you shouldn't tell little girls they're pretty, because it gives them a complex and makes them less likely to want to win the Nobel Peace Prize than America's Next Top Model. Instead, you should ask them what their favorite book is. Now, don't get me wrong--as a little girl, I loved to read and be read to. I really did. I still do. And I would gladly talk your ear off about the books I was reading then (and now). But that doesn't mean I don't still want you to think I'm pretty. And just because you think I'm pretty doesn't mean you can't ask me what my favorite book is. I think denying that appearance is a large part of a person's (especially a little girl's) self-identity and instead focusing on only part of who she is (namely, intelligence) can be just as damaging. Little girls ask you to watch them twirl in their pretty dresses because they want to show you that they're beautiful. They want to hear that they are stunning, because they are. And they also want to hear how smart they are. That's why they tell you things that they've learned and read to you. Telling her she's pretty doesn't mean you don't care what her favorite book is. And asking her favorite book doesn't mean you can't tell her she's pretty.

The thing is, I think it would be awesome to win the Nobel Prize. I love doing science, and I really hope that one day my research will make an impact on how we view moral behavior and character and the world in general. But I also think it would be really cool to win ANTM. Bestie and I even auditioned once, on a lark. I also love wearing pretty clothes and having my hair and makeup look nice. I just really don't like the idea that I have to choose--ugly purses to seem smarter, or pretty purses that make me seem flaky and flighty. Pretty or smart? I'm both. And I want to have both aspects of myself acknowledged equally. And I don't think my intelligence makes me less attractive, or that my looks and sense of style make me any less intelligent.

 

The whole thing is great, but the relevant part starts at 3:25.

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Shopping Rant

So, readers, I went to the mall last night. There were sales. I was out of powder (and ended up getting the wrong color. Drat.). I didn't feel like sitting at home vegging out all night. I needed to get my contacts at Sam's Club by the mall. It made sense. Plus, my cousin is getting married in October, and while I have some dresses, I don't particularly want to wear any of them to the wedding, because they are either pastel (not for a fall wedding!) or the same black, a-line, tea-length dress that I've worn approximately 800 times already (seriously, the best $17 I have ever spent). So I shopped. And what I found was disappointing, readers.

First of all, why is there NOTHING between full-length dresses and dresses that barely CYA? I kid you not, there was stuff that I held up to myself that barely fell in that little crease where butt meets thigh. The mannequins wearing these dresses inevitably had them paired with 6-inch hooker heels. Here's the thing about me and high heels. I'm about 3 inches taller than the average woman and only about 2 1/2 inches shorter than the average man, so if I'm wearing heels, especially 6-inch hooker heels, I tower. Occasionally, being a giant has its benefits. Being imposing can lend me credibility when I'm trying to look older or like I have my crap together more than I actually do (caveat: this is usually undermined if you see me WALK in heels). Plus, I feel like hooker heels and barely-there dresses just scream, well, hooker. Back to full-length dresses: not appropriate for an afternoon, semi-formal wedding. Especially not strappy, backless, canary yellow dresses with cheap rhinestone and zebra accents. Yeah. They actually make those. I saw it at like 3 stores. Don't get me wrong, I like rhinestone accents done well, but done poorly and you just look cheap.

This brings me to the prices. The fabric is snagging. The beading is coming undone. Seams are loose. Things are discolored. And they still expect people to pay upwards of $100 for this crap. No thank you.

The hunt continues. I really want this dress:

but, alas, the blog I found it on said they found it in some vintage shop somewhere.

The search continues.

Life's tough. Get a helmet.

So the job I have now is not the most glamorous occupation. And, really, most idiots could do it successfully. BUT, I have learned a lot working here. Every year, camp re-iterates something for me: a lot of people raise their kids to be large children, rather than self-sufficient adults. They seem to think that giving little Johnny everything he wants will make him a successful, likable human being. They are mistaken.

Sometimes in life, your kid will not get what s/he wants. Rather than calling someone and complaining, it would be better to teach them this lesson. It would be better to let them learn to deal with disappointment. To be grateful for the things that turn out the way they wanted. To be caught up in the wonder that happens when things turn out the opposite of how you wanted and it's better than you could have imagined.

Sometimes your kid will be separated from his/her friends and might even have to work with people they don't like. Rather than trying to ensure that they are only ever surrounded by like-minded individuals, teach them that people who we thought we would hate can be our best friends (yes, Bestie, I'm referring to you). Teach them that working with people who are different from us can give us better ideas. Teach them to embrace differences. Teach them to love everyone, not just their friends.

Sometimes things will happen that are scary. Rather than protecting your nearly-adult child from scary things, teach them how to deal with their fears. Teach them that once you stand up to your fears, they aren't as scary. Teach them that someone will always be there to reassure them when things are scary, but make sure that you teach them how to cultivate a support system so they can cope when you're gone.

Sometimes things do not go according to plan. Rather than trying to force things to change back to the plan, teach your kid to roll with the punches, to pick the ball up and run in the opposite direction, to bounce back and make a new plan. Teach them to be resourceful and make the best of the situation. Teach them that if they have to be there anyway, they might as well find SOMETHING good about it. They might as well learn something.

People, teach your kids that life is more than THIS SECOND. Give them some perspective that things that seem like monumental crises now are just tiny blips in the bigger picture of life. Please. PLEASE.