A Day (and apparently two posts) for Laundry

[For background story, please read: A Day for Laundry]
Waiting to do laundry can get boring really fast. I decided to leave my bag there and run home to get my phone. I might just have the strongest wifi signal know to mankind, and I had never been more thankful for it than yesterday. I could conveniently browse Youtube videos from a block away while waiting for people to transfer their laundry; thereby preserving my sanity.

After a long while, washer #3 guy came over and transferred his stuff. I gratefully dumped my load of dirty clothes into the washer along with a generous amount of detergent. I am still not sure what I was trying to accomplish. It was not as if the clothes got dirtier from the waiting. Anyhow, I went back home, knowing that I did not have to return for another 30 minutes. I spent that time peacefully having a Skype conversation with my husband (I still find the term new and exciting after two years).

I got back to discover that washer#3 guy (henceforth referred to as dryer#3 guy, due to the changed circumstances) was not back yet. Since I was there, and assumed that at least someone would be responsible enough to get their dried laundry out of dryers 1-2, I decided to wait. While waiting, I had the opportunity of getting back in touch with people I hadn't called in months. I silently thanked God and my phone carrier for unlimited weekend minutes.

Soon washers#1,2 girl came along to get her clothes out of (surprise, surprise) dryers#1,2. That girl sure had a lot of stuff to wash. She proceeded to transfer her stuff from the washers to the dryers and set the timer for 90 minutes. I sighed and went back home. I returned an hour later to find that dryer #3 guy hadn't come back for his stuff. I was beginning to lose my cool a little. Did he not know that there were people with wet laundry waiting for him? (The answer was that he probably didn't). By now, it was almost 5 and I needed to submit a paper online.

I went home to do that, and came back an hour and a long shower later, to discover that all the dryers had stopped running but no one had taken their clothes out. That, my friends, was my snapping point. I went home, got a couple of Walmart bags, and stuffed dryer#3 guy's clothes into the bag. I then proceeded to load my five hours old wet clothes into the dryer. I was just putting my quarters (which I had taken out of my 50 states collection) into the slot when the girl of the 2 dryers fame arrived. What timing! I could have surely avoided my passive aggressive behavior if she had come but 5 minutes earlier.

After giving her a smile (I was too disgruntled for other pleasantries), I hurried off home for fear that I would run into dryer#3 guy and have to explain the situation. I would start calling him plastic bag guy, but I think we've changed his name enough times. As soon as my 45 minutes were up, I was back to collect my dried clothes. Unfortunately, the clothes weren't nearly dry enough but I didn't want to be around when dryer#3 guy came along. So I hauled my semi-dry clothes home for a thorough air drying.

And that, folks, is how I wasted a whole day doing laundry. I just wish I had done a better job of it so I didn't have to hunt out each item from various flat surfaces around the house today, to finish a relatively simple task that I started 20 hours ago. On the plus side though, I am in touch with more people now, have blogged after more than a year, and have a new Twitter account. Not a bad trade.

A Day for Laundry

Yesterday had so much potential. It was one of those rare times when I had the day off from work, with the husband away visiting family, no upcoming deadlines, and beautiful weather (not sure about that last one, but no harm, right?). I had even done the dishes the previous night and the bed was all made up. So I was looking forward to having the entire day to myself. You already know this is going to disintegrate one of my rants, so without further ado...

I started the day off with a nice hot cup of toffee-flavored coffee and BBC. Life was never better. When suddenly: the phone rang. It was my boss. I reluctantly closed my browser and got to work. That wasn't too bad really. I had finished all the interesting news stories and I didn't mind a little work in the morning (checked the phone to find out it was just before 9 am). When I finally finished by 12, I got a thanks (aww) and some fresh work (wwa!... = reverse aww). Still, nothing could disturb my equilibrium. Or so I thought.

I made a quick pasta lunch for my brother and myself. Poor kid still doesn't complain. And it's not like before. I can now make a variety of interesting dishes. I just choose not to. When I was done, I got out the laundry bag that was about half full and hauled it out of the house. That's one thing I never understood about myself: how I can tear a tennis ball (figuratively speaking) down the line with my considerably heavy tennis racket, but cannot, for the life of me, carry a laundry bag across the lot without a minimum of two breaks.

This was a task I usually entrusted to either my brother or my husband, but since my husband was away and the bro was nursing a ligament tear, the responsibility had fallen on my (as previously mentioned) weak shoulders. Let's just say that if I was Atlas, there would be a shattered Earth. Or maybe a bouncing Earth. Not too clear on Greek mythology. In any case, the cause of it would be me buckling under the weight rather than shrugging (I'm not much of a shrugger now, I use my words).

So imagine my disappointment when I get to the laundry room and find a girl using two out of three washers with the third one already occupied. Luckily washer #3 was close to the end of its cycle. So I made small talk with the 2-washer girl to get my breath back, then walked back to dump the laundry bag in the trunk of my car. I washed up the lunch things, tackled a little more work, and went back about half an hour later to find that all three washers were done but the owners hadn't come to collect their stuff yet. I was not about to carry the bag back across the road, so I waited..

Credit-ed

Well, I got my very first credit card not too long ago. I haven't made a payment yet, so it definitely hasn't been a month yet. I am not too comfortable with the idea of being in debt even temporarily. Call me naive, but I feel that spending money that I don't yet have is unsustainable, and hence a bad idea. You have to pay up sometime, don't you? When I was activating my card, the customer service representative almost talked me into buying employment loss protection for "just $8.99 a month", which I definitely don't need. In fact, I had no idea I was being signed up for it. It just seemed like a sales pitch till the person said; "So yes, I have just enrolled you into the programme". To which, I replied, "eh..... what?" That's my standard response when people start thinking things I haven't said (happens to me at Subway way more than you'd think possible). Note to self: come up with better surprised response. Anyway, I feel increasingly tempted to use the card as the days go by and my initial reluctance wears off. Credit now, think later. More updates as the story progresses.

In other news, my cooking has picked up somewhat after my husband's visit. The objective during the first few days was to completely mesmerize him with my culinary skills (i.e., the opposite of 'eh....what?'), after which it dropped to the much more reasonable hope of not having him remember this vacation as the 'Summer of Starvation'. I wonder what he thinks of his 45 days down in the south of.... oh wait, my location is top secret. I do think I'd make a great Hagrid, what with keeping secrets and all that. My brother and I were on a Harry Potter marathon last weekend, and the effects haven't worn off yet. Might as well stop before my thoughts start meandering even more. Goodnight!

Parenting 101

There's nothing that will teach you to be a parent faster than living with a younger sibling, whether a minor or otherwise. Because the truth is, siblings never grow up, at least not in your eyes. Where everyone else sees a 5'10" 21 year old man, I see a 4 year old, with a shy smile, who needs me to hold his hand while crossing the road, and loves bedtime stories.

Sharing an apartment with my brother for a little less than a month has made me realize that this 'kid' has long ago stopped throwing tantrums, saying cute things almost on cue and is also too big to be carrying around (yeah, I am a little slow sometimes). Being in college for the past 8 years (wow!), I've missed this little guy's transition into adulthood almost completely.

Now, having to do all the cleaning, cooking, ironing and clearing up, I do feel like a mom. Also, I begin to appreciate the effort that my Mom had to make when we were kids. Between telling my brother to get off the computer, helping him plan coursework, trying to think of new dishes to make, arranging stuff around the house and doing grocery shopping, while balancing regular lab work during the week, I have little or no time left to waste on the internet and generally laze around. This, more than anything else, is what will prepare me for managing my own future family.

However, in spite of all the extra work and responsibility, I am very, very thankful to have a family member in such close proximity. Oh, I almost forgot to mention the one childhood quality he still hasn't lost (and this is very important): the ability to laugh at all my jokes, however poor they may be. God bless little brothers and their capacity to care.

March Madness

I love how they call it that. Like, yeah, let's get mad about the college sports season; and forget about other stuff. Not literally, of course. That would be disastrous. Like forgetting to send results to your professor for review. I tend to take the literal meaning of acronyms like A.S.A.P. Yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds like something you want done Right Now. But if you expand it, it means, do it as soon as possible. See how much more relaxed that sounds? Maybe that's why people use it like a word in conversation these days: I want that report Ayesap.

Knowing how these things work, I can now say (to no one in particular, because I'm a very lonely person) that I want my next vacation to come asap. I miss home-cooked meals. I live in a home and can (ahem) cook, but it's just not the same. Home-cooked meals are meals you want to eat, not tomatoes floating in slightly spicy water and overcooked rice. I hope my one and only reader won't be put off by this. All I can say is: you brought this on yourself. You should have considered the consequences of eventually living with me when you signed that paper. [Now, in case I am wrong and more than one person reads this blog for whatever reason, just ignore that last line].

I tried playing stick tennis today. I have played tennis on a PS3 before, so having my ass handed to me is not a new experience. I try not to let that happen in real life, with a reasonably high success rate. It was infuriating to be on the receiving end of 4 aces in a row. I mean who does that automaton think he is? Ivo Karlovic? I wonder if he knows it's illegal to even drive a car at 251 km/h. I meant Karlovic, not the computer. The computer really doesn't need that kind of fire-power to outclass me- yet. I can never give up on lost causes. I have a feeling I'll be playing a lot more of that game in the coming weeks. Till I get a game. Maybe even a set. So watch out for me, computer man.

Pooky Speaks (Again)

Looks like I haven't written in the past 3 months. Well, that's what happens when I finally have other things to do in life. And this last statement, dear reader, should be the text-book definition of wishful thinking. Now that our English lesson for the day is over, let me tell you what I have really been up to. First, I prepared for a conference, and then I attended it. (Make no mistake, I have been known to do it the other way around occasionally). My only clear memory of that trip is of being charged for excess baggage because of a poster I was carrying. Oh, I just thought of another one: seeing a homeless man dressed more warmly than I was. Of course, I should have known better than to wear a skirt suit with no overcoat in sub-zero temperatures.

Then, when I got back, my laptop was stolen by some very professional thieves. I say professional, because they did an extremely thorough job of finding not just my laptop, but also the charger, which was in another room, and my headphones (which were attached to the laptop). They also managed to make off with both my roommates' laptops, presumably so that these could keep mine company, in case mine wasn't happy enough being reunited with its soul-mate, the charger (On days when I felt particularly sadistic, I would intentionally keep those two apart). I just have a few last words: Dear laptop, you were sorely missed (for two weeks, till I got a new one). But I'm so over you now, I've even stopped electronically tracking you. Farewell, my friend.

After the semester exams, I went home for the holidays. For some reason, I never have anything to say about holidays. They tend to either rush by like a whirlwind, or creep along like traffic on the Dubai-Sharjah highway. Which makes them difficult to summarize. You know, it's strange that I can't think of anything slower than traffic on a random highway to compare uneventful vacation days to. I must be getting rusty.

I haven't made any new year resolutions this year, but it's too late now. You ask how I know that? Because people have already started to abandon theirs. I don't want to be out-of-date. Maybe I'll make next year's resolutions now. Like a pre-emptive strike on my excuse of not having resolutions, to avoid making lifestyle changes.

Lab Space

For most grad students involved in any kind of research-good, mediocre, misguided... whatever, the lab is their first home. Being a typical grad student with no life, I fall into that category. Our lab recently moved into a new building, and there was a mad rush to choose the best spots for hard-core research/ uninterrupted daydreaming. Being the last one on the scene I got the worst possible desk location, with my back and (more importantly) my computer screen facing the door. We lab rats (can't hide from the truth, can we?) are generally docile creatures who take what we get. Our professor, however, was outraged that all the (gentle)men of the lab had given the lady the worst desk. Well, it had been a while since we thought of ourselves in those terms. So long, in fact, that the words themselves seemed archaic and somewhat unnatural. Understandably, nobody offered to give up their seat, and the professor had told me to choose whichever seat I wanted and tell the person occupying it to move to my place. I did just this, and promptly got kicked out by that person the next morning, when he saw the new arrangement. That is the last time I move someone's stuff without informing them first. Fortunately, he doesn't hold a grudge. I kicked him out, he kicked me out, and we're even. I even learned a lesson in the process. Anyway, I like my new place now (I do not have a choice; after all, it is practically my home). It's actually got the most light, too. Not sunlight, silly. Corridor light. You really thought grad students get sunlight? Not unless we walk home for lunch because we need the Vitamin D.

Gender Stereotypes

We play a major role in shaping our toddlers' mindsets. I was reminded of this last weekend when I went out with a couple. We were shopping for baby clothes and I spotted a cute white t-shirt with a butterfly pattern on the front. When I showed it to them, they patiently explained to me that boys don't wear clothes with pictures of butterflies on them. Balls, vehicles, alphabets and teddybears were acceptable. I can understand that parents would avoid certain colours for their boys (like pink) but I had no idea it extended to patterns as well. Later, when we moved to the toys section, I saw that even here they had separate sections for boys and girls. The girls' section was filled with dolls, and tea sets, make up boxes and a lot of very pink things (I was looking at it from a distance, and it really did seem like a sea of pink from where I was standing). The boys section had aeroplanes, train sets, GI Joes... generally stuff that looked like more fun. Oh, I've played with a lot of dolls in my time, but the toys in the boys section seem infinitely more exciting to me as an adult. I wish we wouldn't program our kids into thinking a certain way. Girls should have both dolls and cars to play with (and baby boys should be able to wear butterfly-print t-shirts). It might actually make the world a better place; a place where women are less bothered about their looks and could change a tire if they really had to, where men stop thinking of kitchens as a no-go zone, and aren't afraid of expressing their feelings. I'm not saying there should be complete homogenization- that would not be a good thing. But do we really need to add rules about what a baby can and cannot wear or play with when nature has already taken care of the mental programming? Men aren't from Mars and women aren't from Venus: we are all from the same planet (duh!), we are just brought up differently. Sometimes, we repeat things- however ridiculous- so often that they become ingrained in our minds.

Viral Vocab

You've surely noticed how the English language has been changing rapidly with new words coming into use on a regular basis, mainly since the internet revolution. Well apparently, there is an Oxford Dictionary of English (as opposed to the more conventional Oxford English Dictionary) that allows the inclusion of these newly made up words. Here are a few examples:

chill pill a notional pill taken to make someone calm down
chillax calm down and relax
turducken a roast dish consisting of a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey
staycation holiday spent in one's home country
buzzkill a person or thing that has a depressing or dispiriting effect
automagically automatically and in a way that seems ingenious, inexplicable, or magical
exit strategy a pre-planned means of extricating oneself from a situation
overthink think about (something) too much or for too long
matchy-matchy excessively colour-coordinated
LBD little black dress
frenemy a person with whom one is friendly despite a fundamental dislike or rivalry
cheeseball lacking taste, style, or originality
hikikomori the abnormal avoidance of social contact, typically by adolescent males (in Japan)

They say the only way to remember new words is to use them in a sentence. Since we have so many new words here, I'm going to need an entire paragraph to fit them all in. Now, to begin:

I am totally overthinking this. Is it that difficult to find accessories for my LBD so that I don't end up being all matchy-matchy at the party tonight? The last thing I want is for someone to think I am a cheeseball. Quite apart from that being an insult, it reminds me of the lunch my LKG benchmate used to bring to school, the eating of which was followed by her wiping her cheesebally (yes, this will be my contribution to the ODE) fingers on my sleeve. Yuck! She was definitely the first frenemy I had. I wish there was a way to automagically erase all but the most pleasant childhood memories. Sigh. I need to take a chill pill, chillax and think of an exit strategy in case I get stuck with some buzzkill this evening who can't stop praising the turducken on the buffet table, which would make it impossible to eat a dish I might have tried had I not heard the name and mentally shortened it to... (I will leave that to your imagination). And who knows? I might even come across a more accomplished hikikomori than myself, although if (s)he were that good, (s)he'd be at home, enjoying a staycation instead of planning an exit strategy for a non-existent social event.

Rants about Nothing in Particular

A lot of things are happening differently. So many, in fact, that it is beginning to make me wonder if all that I thought to be true for as long as I can remember could, in fact, be the opposite of true. (Would that be untrue or false or both?). Very disturbing. Consider this: when a person gets back from vacation, they experience what is known as a vacation hangover, where they take some time to adjust to life as usual. Guess what- not true! Also, it has been one of my cardinal beliefs that nothing good ever happens on a Sunday, the last day of the weekend. Also not true. I am actually enjoying the day, and even looking forward to the coming week. Like I said, there is something seriously wrong with the world. No, not with me; there is never anything wrong with me.

I have started taking driving lessons from a friend and am having the time of my life. I can't say for sure, but I get the feeling, my friend may not be enjoying it quite as much. It might have been the crumpling up of my learner's permit in fear when I drove in the direction of oncoming traffic, or the expressionlessness at the end of 45 minutes of badly executed turns, but I get the feeling my friend may not be quite as enthusiastic about the thrill ride as I am. What can I say? Some people just don't have the thirst for adventure.

Speaking of adventures, I got married a little over a month ago and discovered that I really like it. Also, there is something to be said for the founders of the institution of marriage. Whoever you people were, may your souls rest in peace. "I'm married" is quickly becoming my favourite excuse- it is just so versatile. In the coming months, you can look forward to a full discourse on the variety of situations and social gatherings where it can be used, and the things (inanimate or otherwise) it can help you avoid.

Life Changers

Last week, I got my Learner's permit. I'd been struggling with that a long time. With all the happiness surrounding the receipt of my passport last year, I had forgotten to check if everything was ok. (You have already guessed that it wasn't, haven't you?) It turns out they didn't give me a last name at all. My full name was my first name. So when I was issued a visa, it said that my full name was my last name (because whatever else you don't have, you need a last name). As a consequence my first name was listed as "unknown", and I have been having trouble trying to prove to the people at the DMV that I do, in fact have a first name, and it certainly isn't "Unknown". It might be funny if some parent named their child Unknown, just for kicks. When this person has trouble getting his license, he can just stand his ground and say, "No ma'am, my name is Unknown, and I can prove it to you", pulling out his birth certificate.

Anyway, all's well that ends well. The next step is the road test, which I am going to think about only after the wedding. Salman Rushdie once said with absolute certainty that he knew why women got so excited about their wedding. It is all about the dress, he declared; and he would know, he's quite a veteran when it comes to weddings (his own weddings, in case I wasn't clear enough on that point). One columnist tried to disprove that, but she ended up further proving his point when all the brides-to-be she interviewed could talk only of their ideas for their wedding dress. I know I am not getting married for the dress. Or the jewellery. Or for being the center of attention (that's just scary). The way I see it, the ceremony is the part you'd want to fast forward through/ completely skip over years later, when you sit reminiscing. Isn't the wedding just supposed to mark (or celebrate) the beginning of a new phase of your life? A phase where your life becomes linked to that of another person, and where you learn to stop thinking so much of yourself and take your significant other's likes, spoken or otherwise, into consideration, while making decisions that you normally would in the blink of an eye, being a part of a new family and adjusting to their way of life. The 'wedding' isn't just the ceremony. It is everything that follows. Maybe I have no idea what I am talking about. So far, the main questions most of my girlfriends have asked about the wedding have been along the lines of, "So, what about the dress and ornaments? Have you selected them already? What's it like?" :) Fortunately, at least the married ones seem to think the way I do.

What's up with that?

You meet a friend on the street and he/she says, "hey, 'ssup?". How do you respond? If, like me, nothing's ever 'up' with you, do you get to pass on the the 'ssup and just reply to the 'hey'? Because 9 times out of 10 when I am asked what's up, I have no choice but to say, 'nothing'. It's almost like people are reminding me that there is nothing interesting going on in my life. But seriously, how do you answer that? Let's go over a few test scenarios, just for fun.

Scene 1

Friend: Hey, what's up?

Me: I was just walking down the road, putting one foot in front of the other, and now you are standing across from me asking me this question. I think that covers my side of the story. What's up with you?

Scene 2

Another Friend: So... what's up?

Me: Well, I did my grocery shopping a few hours ago, bought carrots, spinach, rice, cabbage, cucumbers, bread, some coffee, thinking of getting a water filter. I plan to send emails to my family soon. You know I have a large family, right? My uncle's younger son just moved to Uganda to pursue a career in farming (he was inspired by farmville)....Today morning I walked to the lab, waited at the signal for a car to cross. When I was crossing the road I met a friend who asked what's up. So I told her.... blah blah blah....

Scene 3

Yet Another Friend: What's up?

Me: (looking up) Funny, I never noticed the sky before you asked me. Anyway, now I know. (pause). Although I wonder why so many people have been asking me that lately. They can't be so lazy that they are unwilling to tilt their heads up for just a second to find out themselves....hmm...

**The plot thickens**

Work and Woes

Research is just like any other job. This morning, I found myself comparing it to working in the army. Think about it: you start off wondering, where's the action? Did I sign up just to read stuff and think? Then the artillery fire starts and you start praying to God to just get you out of this mess alive. Well, I think I have reached that stage now. I am in my lab from 9 to 5 as usual, but I actually spend all that time working. All of it. No goofing around or extra long lunch breaks.

Then I come home and do more work. Weekends are no exception. Even Friday evenings, the sacredest of sacred times for me (in terms of being lazy, don't get the wrong idea), so sacred that I do not so much as think of work during that time, are devoted to writing reports. The good thing is that deadlines usually arrive before we know it. Plus, I am going to appreciate my vacation so much more this year- I'm already counting off days, whenever I have the time to do it, that is. Sigh.

Because I don't have a car, I have to rely on public transport (university transport actually) for my grocery shopping. I never understood what I do to deserve this, but I always end up having the strangest conversations with the weirdest people. One day while I was shopping, a guy comes up and asks if he can share my trolley. The fact that someone had asked me that in a hypermarket full of shopping carts and trolleys took me aback. This person took my blankness for a yes, and took over my trolley. I had to tag along behind till he finally finished his shopping and reached a checkout counter. On the way, he even told me his life story, which I remember very little of, except that it sounded a bit far fetched and unnecessarily sad. I didn't say anything and let it pass. After all, it had to be a one-time incident. I would remember to steer clear of this person in future for sure.

But a few weeks later, there was a new challenge. Someone came up to me and introduced himself. I gave him my name too. The next thing I know, he has sent me a friend request on facebook. Foolishly, I accepted. The week after that, this person started behaving like my best friend, asking me how my life was going and all that. "You seem like such a quiet person, but you have close to 400 friends on facebook. Now I feel like I know you, I even got your number from the sign-in sheet.", he said. I wanted to answer with, "I must have flunked the course on logic in college, because I have no idea how you got from point A to point B". Of course I didn't say it. Most of my good lines remain in my head.

See, this is why I need a driver's license (and after that, money with which to buy a car). And kids, here is your lesson: protest when someone hijacks your shopping cart, and do not accept friend requests without thinking. I just had a mental flash of Ted from How I met Your Mother saying that. Anyway, I'd better get back to work, on the work that I've been working on. :S

Signs

Lately, I've been been trying (very, very hard as it will soon become apparent) to find hidden meanings in everyday life. For instance, last week, a man in a suit handed me a bible. I took that as a sign that there was still hope for me. Hope that I might one day make effective use of my time and energy perhaps.

This Monday morning I was having depressing thoughts about the direction my life was taking. This happened while I was brushing my teeth. Was not sure how to interpret that. Perhaps it was time to stop brushing my teeth. No, that wasn't it. Maybe it was a sign that Monday mornings are a great time to make a new start. That one seemed more probable. But being depressed isn't the best way to start anything. Maybe poetry. But I am not a poet; will not be one in a million years. Mainly because I cannot stay focussed long enough to compose a couple of verses.

I pondered long and hard about this vexing issue on the long walk to my lab. I'm not exaggerating, it's almost 30 mins from where I live. During that time the radio gave me insight into what goes on in Jason Derulo's head (he has quite a vivid imagination), had Orianthi complaining about somebody's opinion of her. They say she's stupid and useless and a lot of other things. Poor girl. Then it informed me about great shopping deals, and declared itself to be the "best" music station. Well... I wonder how many of those there are. Needless to say, with all this wondering, the mystery of the sign remained unsolved.

This week is turning out to be hectic. I have an exam tomorrow, which actually explains why I am blogging. The fact that I remembered I have an exam is a sign that I should go back to studying for it. See, I'm getting really good at this!

Pooky the Procrastinator

What do you do when you have a lot of work to be completed? I blog. Or use funny keywords to search my mail. Or type a person's name and read all the conversations we've had in the past- I don't know- 30 months or so. Or cook. Or clean. Or browse. Or all of the above. Today was one of those days. Sigh.

I know I could use the few minutes I am using to type all this down to actually get some of that pending work done. But come on, we all know it is useless to start work this late at night (it's 11:30 by my computer's clock). One thing I like about blogging is that unlike real life, no one is going to interrupt me here and point out that after 11 is when most students start their assignments. I wonder if that is where the term "11th hour" came from. Must remember to google that sometime.

Also, have you wondered how easily such thoughts can distract you from your task at hand? You might be seriously reading your textbook or notes, when suddenly you come across a term you feel compelled to look up on the web (resist that urge!!). Then, having once switched on your laptop, there is no way you can go back to studying with the same intensity. Sometimes even just plain 'go back to studying', with or without the former intensity, seems impossible.

I know all this because I have been studying for a long, long time. Or at least that is what I want people to believe when they see my occupation stated as 'student' on all my official records. Being a master procrastinator means that I leave all non-urgent work for the weekend, and then proceed to not do it. This leaves me dreading Mondays, as I am sure I have mentioned before in a different context.

Well, on a happy note, this entire rant took exactly 6 minutes to type.. which is a good thing in itself, although I am still planning to put off work till tomorrow morning. I even plan to set an alarm to enable me to procrastinate some more till finally, the work work becomes so urgent that it is impossible for me to ignore. But until that time I will continue to be the lazy slug I am. I like telling people that laziness spreads via blogs (I modify that to e-mail, when I write mails). So, happy lazing folks. Will post again soon.

My Experiments with Tea

Gandhi experimented with truth and wrote a book about it. He thus inspired me to delve into the mysteries of the next most elusive thing in the world- the perfect cup of chai, more than 60 years later. That, by the way, gives new meaning to the phrase "greatness is its own reward". If, like me, you grew up on a healthy dose of the X-files, you will know that the truth "is out there". Fortunately for us, tea isn't. Quite readily available in fact.

Step 1: Procurement

If you were to go to a store and check out their tea section for the first time, you would be overwhelmed by the the number of options available . I did not have a preferred brand, had never tried flavored or green tea. Or mint tea or ginger tea or spice tea. In fact, berry and orange-flavored tea didn't even appeal to my senses. It finally came down to inky-pinky-ponky. After all, experiments require a healthy dose of luck.

Speaking of luck, I had read a status message a few days ago in which someone's boss had asked them to look at just the bottom 20 resumes out of a huge pile they had received. His logic was that if they weren't lucky, he wouldn't want them working for his firm anyway.

Step 2: Making a hypothesis (I might be mixing up experimental method with the 'scientific method' as taught in my 11th grade biology class)

In this case, the hypothesis was simple: 'I can do this'. It was also vague enough to cover all possible outcomes. Eg. I can make great tea, I can procrastinate, I can give it a shot, I can fail miserably etc.

Step 3: Putting my hypothesis to the test

Decided to go with cardamom tea, mainly because I like the smell of cardamom, and I had a packet-full of it lying on my shelf that I had no other use for. Not going into details at the moment. Saving that for my patent.

Oh, ever noticed how vague patents tend to be? Like, if they are talking about a single effective catalyst, "it is a metal or metal salt (chloride, sulphate or carbonate or derivatives thereof) belonging to group I-VII" (that's practically every metal there is!) "...with or without heat treatment at a temperature between 20 deg and 1140 deg C". Sometimes I wonder why they even bother.

Step 4: Results and conclusion(s?)

I realized what I had been missing all these years. Oh chai, how do I even begin to express my feelings? Also, I decided I could do much better. Overall, I concluded, the experiment was a success in that it validated my hypothesis (as I knew it would-- ooh, I'm psychic :))

You might be wondering about the picture. I know you know. Still, it is best to make things clear. In the immortal words of Shaggy, it wasn't me!

Classy Idiot

I consider myself a spontaneous person. This is because I often say things on the spur of the moment that I regret later. So I find it hard to understand why it is that I go numb whenever I am asked a direct question. I answer questions out of turn in class most of the time, regardless of whether I know the answer or am just guessing. I do it mostly to stay awake, and sometimes to amuse myself. Hmm... I don't know if it's just me or do monologues put other people to sleep as well?

I remember once when Mister (my old arch enemy you might remember from my earliest post) was telling me in many different ways (he does not economize on words, and believes that repetition is the key to being understood) that I'd never make a living as an engineer, I actually dozed off! Didn't know I could do that while being insulted. Thankfully, I snapped myself back to consciousness and adjusted my expression to one of remorse just in time to hear the end of his tirade. By the way, the only reason I got away with it was because he was too involved in his speech to notice.

But I was going to write about something else. Ah yes. Class. So I was sitting in class, doing my thing, when the professor suddenly pointed at me. "You", he said. "Name a compound". It was an easy enough question. For anybody else, that is. I was unable to move, let alone speak. "You there, in the white sweater" he clarified, thinking I hadn't heard him the first time. I had heard all right. It was only my motor skills that were temporarily impaired. So I looked up with my big round eyes (I like to imagine I have big round eyes, like Japanese cartoon characters) and said nothing. Finally, with a Herculean effort, I managed to mutter "benzene". Well, I thought, I got through that one. But no, there was more to come. "Polar or non-polar?". Non-polar, duh, my head said. But my throat refused to co-operate. I looked around. No help. I surprised myself then by saying "I don't want to answer that". Seriously. The professor came to my rescue by nodding, turning around and saying while writing on the blackboard, "Yes, that is correct. Non-polar". He then proceeded to ask other students to name compounds, who answered with absolutely no trouble and he had a big list in less than 20 seconds. I realize I wasted half a minute of class time just being me. I really hope I get over my fear of answering questions before I defend my research proposal, or failing that, at least before I start a career, especially if it is a career in teaching. Ah well, que sera sera, the future's not ours to see. Always wanted to use French in one of my posts! :D

New Beginning

Hello folks, and a happy new year to you all. Due to popular demand and a lot of pestering by more than 50% of my followers (I know there are just 6 of you, but isn't statistics awesome?), I'm BACK! I notice it's been 3 months since the last post so I guess an update is in order here.

I got engaged :) :) in December to the most wonderful guy in the world. And I am hoping he's forgotten I have a blog because it would be super embarrassing to have him read that. Notice how you tend to say very corny things yourself with a lot of feeling when it seems like the only possible way to express what you are feeling, but snigger when you hear actors say it on TV. If you are in the habit of watching old hindi movies, you have surely come across this exact scene: Old lady in white sari and young, dashing (you know.. hero-type) son. One of them is in distress and the other feels helpless. Son says, "Maa", then lady says, "Beta" (clarification: not beta like in software), then repetition of same lines with more intensity.. "Maaaa!", "Betaaa!". I really wasn't planning on saying that but my out-of-control imagination will never let me stick to one topic. Sigh. So, coming back to what I was trying to say, I've been in my own happy bubble for a while now, and generally feeling good about everything in the world. Well, unless we are talking about Haiti (which we are not). I'm actually curious to see how long such a state can last..

Anyway, my new year resolutions this year are 1. to get a license (to drive, not to kill; just in case you were thinking I was James Bond's replacement), 2. to read more technical papers than novels, 3. to cut down on my daydreaming, and 4. to update my blog more often. That probably covers everything. If I've missed something, I'll just add the remaining to this same list when I reproduce it next year.

Driving Forces

Learning to drive is my new thing. Like that guy from modern family: I'm a cool dad, that's my thang... (like he's the one who decides these things). When I say new thing, I do not mean that it is something I am doing. Rather, it is something I want to do sometime in the near future. Making it my "thing" is my way of putting somewhere near the top of my agenda. (If you've noticed all the words starting with 'some' in the last two lines, it should give you an idea of how soon I am going to put my words into action). You know, when my friends watch videos titled "10 worst parking errors" and laugh uncontrollably, I think to myself, you people just wait till I start. I'm sure to put the rest of the public out of contention.

Dedicated readers would remember how I was worried about not knowing to cook. Well, I am educating myself in the culinary arts now (necessity being the step-mother of all bad invention) and have found that there is fine line between cooking and cooking well. Wait, that didn't sound quite right. There is an ocean of difference between the two. Of course, being an engineer, I'm not planning to give up so soon. Going to build a bridge between these two long-lost brothers (you know, 'cooking' and 'cooking well'). I know I am not the kind of engineer that builds bridges but... (I've already used the necessity excuse once, and can't think of a better one, so here goes)... but somebody's gotta do it. One of the facebook quizzes I had taken a while ago told me that I was born to be a hero :)

Alienated

When I find words like 'alien' on official forms, I am reluctant to put a tick mark next to it. It's like I am betraying my basic human nature. The word 'alien' brings to my mind a picture of a green face with big spiderman-like eyes. Yes, even I wondered, why that particular picture. One of my friends had set an alienware logo as his profile picture, and seeing it every day for more than a year has made me associate the picture with the word.

Ok, now I can't decide which train of thought to follow. I think I will do both, one at a time. First of all, alien? There has to be a better term. How about, say, "non-citizen+non-resident"? "from another country"? "not from here"? "away-from-home dawg"? People who set standards for political correctness should be notified of this. We need swift action to prevent further alienation of already homesick (and oversensitive, it must be said) whiners like myself.

About associating words with pictures, or vice versa, let's do a quick test. Ice cream, holiday, school, butterfly, MJ. I am pretty sure you got at least a few pictures in your head. (If you didn't, do let me know, I might just need to get my head examined). Hmm... Insane or Alien... I wonder which is worse...