A ray of green in a lab overwhelmed by grey

May 28, 2009 By Jessica

By yesterday I reached my threshold for caca del toro (bullshit) at the lab, stopped at Taco Bell for dinner, and then knocked out while watching CSI on Spike.  I finished the Nacho Supreme, Beef and Potato Burrito, and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch, then got cold enough to curl up in the blanket lying on the couch.  Perhaps out of a fat induced coma, the next few hours were spent coming in and out of consciousness until heading up to my room to call it a night.  Taco Bell probably played a part in my drowsiness, but all the stress from the lab and pressure to finish graduate school essays probably deserve the real credit for tapping out so early.

The same thing happened to another co-worker last night.  She was out like a light and refused to wake up even after her fiancee begged her to take a shower before officially going to bed.  Her answer to his pleas was to continue sleeping fully dressed.  I can definitely relate.  It could be that we spent the entire day trying to coordinate 18 plates for nine PCR machines between the two of us, make enough gels for our plates, and then proceed to check those 18 plates on those gels.  Feel free to throw in a rude PCR machine nazi that feels the need to remind anyone even looking at a machine that she is signed up for it until after 2 pm, along with finding an overdraft fee hanging out in my checking account, and you get a very, very crabby Jessica.

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Filed Under: People, Personal, Writing Tagged With: , , ,

Writing in a box

May 17, 2009 By Jessica

During my vacation I made a point to venture up to my mother’s attic in order to retrieve a box full of my school papers and writing.  Fortunately, I found what I was looking for relatively painlessly, along with a box of old pictures.  Today I’ve been procrastinating by sifting through all these ancient treasures rather than working on graduate applications.  I figured I’d take a few moments to share a couple before getting to work.

From kindergarten or early elementary:

Oh, homework. Oh, homework.
I hate you
You stink
I wish I could wash you down a sink.

From junior year Creative Writing:

Asleep

She was an articulate girl, says the abundance of novels which lined her shelves near the window,
a fashionable girl too, says the Vogue magazines that stood within easy reach,
and a creative, artistic girl says the drawer full of art supplies worn with use,
but not a girl with solitary style, says the various decor arrangements adorning her room.
She lived with her family, says the toys and work papers strewn across the living room floor.
Two other people lived there, says the covers on the couch and a bed in the room down the hall.
A baby lived with another person in that room says the small clothes lined neatly in the closet, a toy boy shoved under the crib,
and the house must be lived in says the leftover dinner remaining on the table.
Something happened says the silent room under the darkened sky.
The closed door says she wanted privacy.  The dishes in the sink say she had other things to do.
And the stillness?  It fills the small room like water fills the ocean—a warm bed,
a comfortable pillow with a matching comforter, eyes closed peacefully.  She was motionless they say.
Filed Under: Faves, Old School, Personal, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Idiosyncrasies

March 16, 2009 By Jessica

The most common words I hear when someone describes me are:  “weird”, “unique”, “different”.  They may not be my first, second, or third choices, but I embrace them as partially true nonetheless.

I was born with the gift of accepting self-deprecating humor quite graciously…most of the time.  When you do as many ridiculous, ditsy, and embarrassing things as I do learning to laugh at oneself is absolutely imperative to keeping a positive attitude. Miraculously, and mysteriously, I still manage to come off as somewhat clever despite my ungraceful shortcomings .  It’s a gift.  Examples include:  Cutting my lip with a pickle spear, having the serial number of my car manifold branded to my arm, or shutting a locked door that resulted in having to spend the night in the Entomology building with hundreds of gigantic cockroaches scurrying about—all happened.  The spear incident was one of those moments where I had to physically check my lip in the mirror to see if I was capable of wounding myself with a pickle.  I was very capable.  Being branded by my car was a secondary discovery.  I was relaying the story of my car breaking down and how I attempted to grab the starter switch but was burned by the manifold.  As I lifted my arm to display the burn I exclaimed, “Ah, jeezus! You HAVE to be kidding me!?”  Neatly branded on my forearm, in the color of freshly burned skin, “4739″ appeared clearly.  Now, the lab incident:  Initially, I tried picking the lock and gave up quickly in hopes of finding a spare set of keys.   Every janitorial closet door I opened seemed to cast light on numerous scurrying insects, so that plan was also abandoned rather hastily.  Freaked out and paranoid from all the creepy crawlers, I found an “empty” room to bunk in for the night.  I was not laughing at my plight, but my professor/boss got a kick out of the note scrawled on a paper plate (it was all I could find), “Locked myself out.  In a room down the hall somewhere…if you can’t find me, the roaches got me.  Help!”  Not hilarious to me at all, Professor.

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Filed Under: Personal, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
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