Francpotatoll

Cycles or 2010: Shows and Movies

2011-01-23T15:51:00.000-08:00

I was reading some of the old posts on my blog and I realized two things: First, life is cyclical. It can be hard to piece it all together but I've got it mostly figured. For instance, every once in a while I get a haircut that is way shorter than I intended.

The second thing I learnt is that their is a spell check for blog pots, which eye will try and use more oftener.

Finally, in the spirit of this post, I wanted to again rank the movies, plays and musicals I saw this past year. The majority are no longer out, but there were some really good ones. The color key is the same as last year:

1.) La Cage aux Folles
2.) Clybourne Park
3.) Fellowship!
4.) Brief Encounter
5.) Angels in America: Perestroika
6.) Angels in America: Millennium Approaches
7.) The Merry Wives of Windsor
8.) The Orphan’s Home Cycle: Part I
9.) The Orphan’s Home Cycle: Part III
10.) The Orphan’s Home Cycle: Part II
11.) The Glass Menagerie
12.) The Divine Sister
13.) The Aliens
14.) The Burnt Part Boys
15.) If it only even Runs a Minute IV
16.) Finian’s Rainbow
17.) South Pacific
18.) Lombardi
19.) Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson
20.) The Scottsboro Boys
21.) The Merchant of Venice
22.) The Creditors
23.) Lend Me a Tenor
24.) Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake
25.) Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
26.) A Little Night Music
27.) The Pitmen Painters
28.) Promises, Promises
29.) Everyday Rapture
30.) Dr. Knock or the Triumph of Medicine
31.) American Idiot
32.) Wicked (in San Francisco)
33.) Memphis
34.) The Kid
35.) The Pride
36.) Mrs. Warren’s Profession
37.) Happy Now
38.) Present Laughter
39.) Frog Kiss
40.) La Bete
41.) The History of War
42.) The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity
43.) Rock of Ages
44.) The Sneeze
45.) In the Next Room or the Vibrator Play
46.) The Picture of Dorian Gray

Wow! I saw 46 shows in 2010. Movies follow. These are only the movies I saw in theaters, and since there are so few of them, I'll include some thoughts.

1.) True Grit: I really loved the little girl!
2.) The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus: Andrew Garfield is very handsome!
3.) Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: I loved Kieran Culkin's character!
4.) I Killed My Mother: Technically, I couldn't understand this movie. I saw it in Greece. It was in Quebecoise French with Greek subtitles. I really enjoyed it though!
5.) The Secret of Kells: Let's just say that this movie doesn't portray Scandinavians in the best light.
6.) Inception
7.) The Kids Are All Right
8.) The End of Poverty?
9.) Tron: Legacy
10.) Up in the Air: This sucked! I hated it bad!

On Boston and Asians

2011-01-17T08:59:00.000-08:00

It's pretty much undisputed that San Francisco is better than Boston. It has better weather, for instance, and it also has a better ballet company. If you still aren't convinced, consider San Francisco even has wild parrots. Boston, on the other hand, doesn't; it only has a lot of funny sounding Red Sox fans and also the Cheers bar. But despite its ratings success, Cheers was a mediocre television show. And whatever mistakes the Olsen twins have made in their lives, they were adorable toddlers.

San Francisco is simply more diverse... less than half of its residents are white. In Boston the number of white residents rises to 'more than half.' As part of this diversity, San Francisco also has something called Asians, a group of people virtually unheard of in Boston. Now that I'm done trashing Boston, which I loathe, I'll segway into a discussion on Asians.

In the Inner Richmond, we used to live down the street from an Asian dessert place. It served waffles and ice cream with lots of fruit. One time I went there but without my Asian friends. My Indian mother and black Uncle and I awkwardly ordered waffles whilst the late-night, all Chinese high school student clientelle stared us down.

Then there was my friend Mavis. Mavis was one of my first really good 'adult' friends. By adult, I mean that she's not in her twenties. I have to clarify because I know a lot of readers have gutter minds. I met Mavis when I started work at my college cafeteria during the Spring of my freshman year. Ever since she's done whatever she could to help me out. When I needed a place to stay while doing Summer research she found it for me. She always hooked me up with t-shirts and sweatshirts and jackets from the Chinese New Year parade. I always received a lot of lucky money from her.

Mavis recently bought a house near SF State University. The house was condemned and was completely unlivable at the time of purchase. In the photos her husband showed me the entire front of the house was boarded up, the walls had a lot of graffiti, the bathroom was yellow and moldy and there were fraying electrical wires everywhere. Therefore, they bought it for the bargain price of $400,000. Anyway, I really miss her.

In conclusion, Boston sucks.

Getting to Argonne

2010-07-24T22:53:00.000-07:00

This story, like most great literature, begins on a Monday. (true, it's not always obvious which day some works start on, but Anna Karenina probably starts on a Monday, because that's when the most trains run, and the Scarlet Letter surely does, what with Monday being the traditional day for public shamings)*.

I took the M60 to LaGuardia (which, you may recall is also how Portrait of a Lady begins)**; I was flying on Delta Airlines, so I got off at the Delta terminal... but the Delta Shuttle, which flies from Laguardia to D.C., Chicago, and Boston, leaves from a separate terminal, the Marine Air Terminal. Laguardia doesn't have any of these newfangled Airtrans, so I had to pretty much hitchhike between terminals. No problem. An enterprise car rental shuttle was driving by, and I hitched a ride. So far so good.

According to wikipedia, the Marine Air Terminal 'remains the only active airport terminal dating from the first generation of passenger travel in the United States'. Most readers have probably been to buildings built in the 70s or 80s that were made to look ultra modern. The Marine Air Terminal was clearly designed to look modern in the 30s, and it's still in use today! The effect is bizarre, like being in a sloppily done period piece.

There was only one line to go through security and it had about ten people in it. The woman whose job it was to look at people's ID's and make some marks on their tickets kept admonishing those of us waiting not to cut in line, and at one point called the security over to keep a closer eye on everyone. Later, I walked through the metal detector and my bags headed through the x-ray machine. To save my adviser on meal reimbursements, I had brought some peanut butter and bread. The airport staff confiscated the peanut butter; They said it was a gel. I was annoyed, but in their defense, terrorists are well known to love peanut butter. The security guard very visibly threw it into the trash. I think he didn't want me to think he was going to eat it later, but I wasn't convinced. Frankly, he looked like a peanut butter thief.

So now I had a loaf and a half of bread, but no peanut butter. In a classic 'lemons out of lemonade' situation, I used my available resources to get back at TSA for their stupid regulations. That is, I decided to take out my bread and start eating it plain. The airports hate this because it makes their classy airport waiting area seem more like a bus terminal.***

Wait! I can't lie to you readers. In honesty, I ate the bread because I was starving and $10 seemed too much for an unappetizing veggie wrap. And it's worse... I ate it two pieces at a time so that people would think I was just eating a sandwich, which is still socially acceptable airport behavior. I wish I hadn't, though.

So then I waited. The waiting area for my flight was originally designed to be a hallway. All the seats were in one, very long row. After an hour had passed since the scheduled boarding time and absolutely no announcement had been made, I realized the seating arrangement was probably designed to keep passengers from rising up as one and storming the airplane in frustration.

Finally we got on the plane and then onto the tarmac. We mostly just sat there, but every forty five minutes the captain would tell us to buckle our seatbelts so we could take off. Everyone would murmur excitedly. Shortly thereafter, we would be told that air traffic control had again closed air space heading west. After three hours of this we headed back to the gate; Our flight was canceled. I was tempted to check in the trash on the way out... maybe my peanut butter was still there? I refrained.

I went home, went to bed and awoke early for my rescheduled flight. A lot of the previous days passengers had been rescheduled for the same 9am flight, so it was basically a reunion. So I had to greet and smile at the people I had chatted up the day before, even though I would have been far happier to never have seen them again.

A favorite past time of gays is to try and find all the other gay people in a public place. Some, like male flight attendants**** and Lindsey Graham, are pretty easy to spot, but others, like Chief Justice Roberts, blend in. Anyways, there were two gentlemen differing by about ten years in age, sitting in the waiting area, who I definitely had my suspicions about. These were confirmed when I ended up sitting directly behind them on the plane. They spent the whole flight wrestling with/shoving each other playfully. This is what my mom would call 'horsing around' and it's pretty annoying if you're the guy who constantly has the seat in front of him shoved into the book he's trying to read.

Speaking of male flight attendants, at the end of the flight, ours came back to talk about gay neighborhoods in Chicago with these two guys. I was so annoyed, because I wanted to talk gay with some one and instead this guy was talking to these jerks who had disturbed my whole flight. A constant frustration for me is that I'm not really picked up on anyone's gaydar. I guess everyone sometimes wishes they had a t-shirt to express how they often feel; Mine would say: "I'm gay, too", or maybe in this specific instance, "Why do flight attendants talk to jerks when I'm gay too?"

From the Chicago Airport, I got to my beamline without much difficulty. Later in the afternoon, I called my collaborator from Penn State (whose flight had arrived 4 hours after mine) to give her a phone number to call a taxi. She didn't have a pen so she couldn't write it down. There's no reception at the beamline so I didn't call her again for several hours, at which time I found out that she had tried to take public transportation to Argonne and gotten lost in downtown Chicago. At that time she was walking toward Argonne from a bus stop a couple miles away. I asked her if I should try and walk and meet her, but she said no. Soon thereafter she got picked up by a random guy in a car, who luckily turned out to be a beamline scientist. He told her she had been walking in the wrong direction and brought her safely to the gate. It made me feel better that I wasn't the only one who had trouble.

Anyways, I think there are a few lessons in all of this. First, Argonne's hard to get to, but you must try if you want the best x-ray data the US has to offer. Second, it isn't so bad to be miserable if your collaborators are as well. And finally, if you ever have to choose between a flight and peanut butter, choose the latter... it's more reliable.

*I've been practicing writing paragraphs that are mostly just parenthesis. If you like then give it a shout out.

** If you've never read it you don't know if this is true or not.

***Sure, it was whole wheat bread; Wonder bread would have been more effective. But the bread did have high fructose corn syrup in it.

****I once sat next to a woman on a plane who got free flights because her son was a flight attendant. During the course of our conversation she casually mentioned her son's wife... I was really surprised/confused, which my facial expression clearly showed, but luckily she was looking the other way at the time.

First Kiss

2010-07-07T18:13:00.001-07:00

I took off Wednesday the week before I left for scattering school so as to hang with my friend T P the M, who was visiting from Hawaii. We went to the top of the Empire state building and then we saw Memphis on Broadway. Afterward we spent several hours in my apartment, trapped by rain. (as a native Oregonian, I'm a little ashamed to admit this)

Since I hadn't seen her in over three years, I replied in the affirmative when she invited me out again on Thursday night, this time to a Hooka bar. This was despite my extreme busyness, the late hour of the invitation (11 pm), and the high probability that the bar would be straight (gay specialty bars usually involve either leather or a piano/show tunes. Even New York doesn't have a gay/hooka loving demographic large enough to sustain a bar).

I only go to a bar about once every two months or so and I almost never go to straight bars. I immediately noticed some differences. For example, I was the only male in the bar who wasn't wearing a collared shirt. I'd like to insert a comment about how this demonstrates the straight world's deficient fashion sense... but I don't think my own fashion sense is at the level necessary to avoid the inevitable mean spirited remarks that would ensue in the comment section. Also, the music was extremely loud. Every once in awhile the DJ would turn it off so that patrons could fill in the words to the song. At these times every person was shouting along at the top of their lungs, but it still was quite peaceful by comparison. I was a little confused by this difference at first, but then I determined it's probably because it's difficult to 'feel the beat' to songs like 'My Favorite Things' from the Sound of Music. Other notable differences included how aggressive some of the guys were (which I guess is because women aren't as 'easy' as gay men, although I've never been able to take advantage of this myself) and the presence of female bartenders (hopefully self explanatory).

In fairness, I think I should probably get to the most notable difference of the evening, the difference whose brief mention in the blog title has kept you reading this far. Yes, I had my first straight kiss at the hooka bar. For those who don't know, it was about like you'd imagine, although with an unusual amount of smoke passing from her mouth to mine. I took it in turn, anyways. Who am I to judge straight customs. Gay culture has been around since the Greeks, and thus has reached a certain level of refinement. Although straight people themselves have been around for quite awhile, their culture didn't start to develop in any meaningful way until the 1930s, mostly as a backlash to Grant Wood's 'American Gothic'.

Speaking of Transgenders...

2010-04-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

I love to tell my family how diverse my friends are. They love to make fun of me about it, probably because they're small minded. :) They may not believe it, but there are types of people I'm not friends with. The two most prominent have always been transgenders and Jews*.

Last year after pride I complained to my friend LT that I didn't know any transgendered individuals. Characteristically, she ignored me and went on and on about her boring problems. :)

Ever since I started volunteering at the GLBT soup kitchen, I've met lots of transgenders. They're probably a third of the population there. Last night, after dinner and while the nightly life skills session was winding down, a young trans woman named Trisha made a statement about a recent murder (in Brooklyn, I think) of Amanda Gonzalez, also transgendered. She was encouraging everyone to make sure they had a buddy system to keep themselves safe. Trisha has a funny way of stating things**. She said something like "Remember when it used to be that even if you were gay you were in danger, and now everybody's after the trans." What she meant, I think, was that she used to live in a place (South Carolina) where it wasn't safe to be gay, and now she lives in New York, where it's relatively safe to be gay but still not safe to be trans. But she phrased it as if it were the times that had changed rather than her geographic location.

At the opposite end of the circle there was a young man who raised his hand to respond to her. He said that trans women bring violence upon themselves by not disclosing that they're trans to the straight men they're dating. Remember that a third of this circle was trans. The volunteer who was leading the discussion was trans. So his comment didn't go over well at all. In retrospect, the discussion should have stopped immediately but the group leader didn't want to let a comment like that stand. So instead we went around the circle to let everyone have input. Each commenter was louder than the next and the overall tenor of the conversation was progressing toward chaos. Some of the trans women started talking about how the straight men they date don't mind the fact that they're trans. The same young man who instigated the debate said "then they're not straight." And later he also said something like "you can't change who you are."

By the end of it all, half the room was standing up and the discussion leader and the debate instigator were yelling at each other across the room while they were both being held back by four or five people. Before it could come to blows people were luckily able to lead the young man outside.

After, one of the brand new attendees asked me if I volunteered every week. I told her yes and that it doesn't usually get so loud and violent. She said that she was definitely coming back because "that was so exciting."

Anyways, I still have conflicted feelings about transgendered individuals. For the most part I'm very supportive, because they have always been on the front lines of the LGBT civil rights movement. But sometimes I wonder how many of them want to be trans so they don't have to be gay. I think it's at least some, although probably a very small group. And I don't think you should ever blame a murder victim for the murder.

*I do have a Jewish friend now. She writes the last blog on my blog roll, about taking care of her dad, who has Alzheimer's. It's much more entertaining than Francpotatoll. Her most recent funny dad quote: "I suppose, if everyone were satisfied, there wouldn't be much Italian at all, just music, music, music." It's kind of a sad blog though.

**Because this is a family blog, I won't go too in depth into some of Trisha's comments during the group discussion on STDs. Basically, she kept asking if certain things were normal about the men she had been with or signs of an STD. Most of them should have been obviously abnormal and some of them involved copious amounts of blood. It was really a struggle not to laugh at the time, which I guess means I'm pretty immature.

My Poor Friends

2010-04-07T09:58:00.000-07:00

My friends are poor in a different way. They are poor companions on my journey through life. Consider: I've been trying to get a more masculine jawline recently by chewing gum two hours a day. Did any of my so called friends notice this. Did any of them say, "Wow! Joseph! Your jaw is looking great!" No one even so much as offered me a carrot, though I'm sure they all knew how much this would hurt my fragile ego. Poor, indeed!

My Parent's Poor Friends

2010-04-07T08:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I talk to my mom, I ask her why all of her friends are more affluent than her. (This may seem weird, but this is very representative of the types of things we talk about). A person's friends have a strong influence on their expectations about themselves and their definition of normal, and to me that means one should try and have poor friends. If one's friends are poor, they are more likely to be comfortable with the amount of money and the number of possessions they have. Of course, I don't investigate prospective friends bank accounts (at least, not that they've ever known about)... but if you hang out at the right places, you can easily meet the indigent. (Trust me, graduate school is one of those places).
But my parents did have some poor friends...

There was one lady my mom knew from church who was very poor. Her name was Kathy. So once, when I was trying to make my mom feel guilty about all her richer friends, I asked her if she still ever talked to Kathy. I don't think Kathy was that old, but because generations are shorter for poorer people, she was a grandparent. (I know this sounds terribly politically incorrect, but so is a lot of stuff on my blog, so deal, people). When we would visit Kathy at her house she was always taking care of several grandchildren, while their parents were off doing who knows what, and her husband was watching television. My mom told me she doesn't talk to Kathy that much anymore because all she does is complain.

When my oldest brother died, my parents took on a strong parental role for many of his friends. He was a bit of a social butterfly, so he had a lot, and they were mostly poor. My parents invited one of them to come live in our house. I was kind of young at the time, so I'm a bit hazy on the details, but the whole thing seemed rather rushed. This guy was probably around 23, and I doubt that he had a lot of prospects. If it had been one of us (my brothers and sisters and I) at the same age and in the same situation my mom and dad would never have invited us to live at home (I think). But because he was one of Jack's friends, that decided it. After about a week of him living with us, my parents were discreetly told that this gentleman was a child molester, or registered sex offender, or something of the sort. To their credit, they immediately asked him to leave.

One Summer my mom was the temporary manager of a soup kitchen while the regular manager was away for a few months (helping a sick relative, I think). This meant we would go there twice a week for dinner. One of the volunteers was named Lura (poorer people often have fairly abysmal spellings of common names like Laura). She was married but her husband was confined to a wheel chair. I'm not sure how, but Lura owned her house outright. Unfortunately, she wasn't aware enough to pay her property taxes, so the government repossessed it to sell at auction. It was a really sad situation and a perfect example of how our society fails the poor and the mentally ill. As a household with so many children, mostly boys, we were often enlisted to help people move. So it was perfectly natural that we helped Lura and her husband move out of their place. Her house was even more cluttered than my high school friend Joanna's house. It was a labyrinth of junk, piled to the ceiling. I guess Joanna's house was that way too, but the difference was, in Lura's house, parts of the junk stacks were alive. Obviously there was her husband, who was set unceremoniously in one corner of the room. But there were also around twenty small dogs, all in crates, barking away. Some crates were on the floor, with papers and boxes and books piled high above them. Some crates were sandwiched between furniture below and boxes above. Some were almost touching the ceiling. The house smelled about how you might expect. As part of her move, Lura had to send her husband to an assisted living facility. My mom was also able to whittle the number of dogs Lura insisted on keeping down to six. (she really did love those dogs, even though she obviously wasn't able to care for them properly) My mom took the rest to the pound. The employees there looked at her really funny, and explained that she'd have to pay to spay and neuter all the dogs (which had never been done previously), but when she explained the situation they were understanding and let her leave them there without paying anything.

I guess writing all this, I realized my parents often did have a lot of poor friends. They weren't really friends, and I always felt more uncomfortable around them compared to my parents affluent friends. But it was probably a good experience to have those types of people around. That still doesn't mean a fellow can't use any and all resources available to try and make his mother feel guilty, though.

In Print

2010-03-29T12:05:00.001-07:00

When I was in Oregon, I went to my hometown (Roseburg) to see my little sister perform in Junior Miss. It reminded me of how offensive* entertainment can be where I'm from. I wrote a letter to The News Review (the local commie rag) about my take on the show and they're going to print it. I know this isn't the same as getting a letter in the Times, but I'm glad that my letter met their high standards**. For example, among other things, they will not accept "Letters containing long lists of names..." Naturally I was disappointed to have to edit out my three pages of shout outs to home boys as well as my extensive quotation of the Begats. But I still managed to keep the core of my message. So, here I present, with pride, excerpts from my (published) opinion on my little sister's beauty pageant.

"Awhile back I attended the Junior Miss Scholarship Program. I was proud of all the participants, especially my sister... Unfortunately, I found some of the commentary to be extremely inappropriate. Comments were made by the moderators that imposed a rigid standard of feminine beauty... The most offensive part of the evening was a 'Junior Mister' sketch, where five young men had their own competition. They went shopping for female clothing, did fake dance routines and answered comic versions of the questions that had been posed to participants. It seemed the purpose of this sketch was both to ridicule everything that the hard working young women had done up until that point in the competition and also to perpetuate the outdated notion that it is inappropriate for a young man to enjoy anything feminine (e.g. shopping, dancing) except in the context of a joke... I talked to several people afterward who also found the commentary offensive... Finally, thanks to the volunteers who made this show possible."

All in all, I was probably way too conciliatory. I don't want to upset my family's delicate balance in the town, especially since I don't live there and they do. I say this mostly to explain the last line, where I end up thanking the very people who were responsible for my offense.

*I suppose Roseburgites would find entertainment in New York offensive as well. When I was describing 'The Divine Sister' (an off-off-Broadway send up to Hollywood nun movies) to my mother I may have forgotten to mention all the hot lesbian nun action and the ten minute (literally) conversation about a very well endowed news reporter's penis.

**In reality, The News Review pretty much prints anything it gets. Almost weekly this will include a long, rambling rant by an old person who's disgruntled about this or the other modern contraption, etc. etc. In the past it has even included a harrowing description of a reader's attack by a sasquatch inside their mobile home.

Dinner Party Useful Tip

2010-03-04T14:53:00.000-08:00

Recently, I've tried to make this blog be both more interactive as well as have more graphics. To further the second goal, I've decided to address an important question: How does leftover alcohol increase as a function of guests invited to a dinner party?
If one invites zero guests to their alcoholic dinner party (otherwise known as drinking alone with food) we can expect there to be a considerable amount of leftover alcohol. However, most of it will be lying next to broken vodka bottles on the floor (at least, that's been my experience). If one invites an infinite number of guests there will be an infinite amount of leftover alcohol, as it is generally expected that the average person will bring a greater amount of alcohol than they will consume. As only about 12% of dinner parties occur at one or the other of these two extremes, it is more useful to understand what happens at an intermediate number of guests. The answer critically depends on the type of guests. There are four pertinent categories: alcoholics, teetotalers, couples, and normal people. (Many of you will be surprised to learn that, as couples, you are indeed a deviation from normality). Of these four categories only normal people have a net effect on leftover alcohol. The others all bring approximately what they drink, with alcoholics bringing/drinking a lot, teetotalers bringing/drinking none, and couples bringing/drinking some. Because alcohol is not sold in quantities appropriate for just one person to consume, normal people must bring either more or less than they will eventually drink, but never the right amount. It should be noted that not all normal people will bring alcohol. It is generally recognized that only 2 out of 3 normal guests will bring alcohol unprompted. If the host specifically requests alcohol, this number jumps to 9 out of 10. Finally, if we approximate that a typical guest brings along enough alcohol for 2.15 people (if they bring any at all) then we can plot the following curve.

Final Notes: I hope this has been useful. When using the above information to try and build up alcohol stores for the inevitable collapse of society you should probably take into consideration that most of it was just made up. Also, alcohol is really the only intoxicant/drug that it's useful to accumulate in this way. I've found that if a guest does bring something stronger (e.g. cocaine) it usually gets used up before the party's over. :)

Winter

2010-02-25T05:59:00.000-08:00

I wonder if the Eskimos, who have so many words for snow, have a word for the dirty, slushy, icy mess that the plows are now pushing into big piles on the sidewalks.

So it's snowing again today. When I was walking to school, the snowflakes were the size of snowballs. They were big and wet and by the time I'd walked the 7 blocks from my apartment to my office my black wool coat was solid white.

New York makes a fellow feel differently about a lot of things. Snow is kind of a nuisance here, but when I was a kid in Oregon, I loved it so much.

An Oregon winter is nothing if not wet, but it was a rare occurrence for the temperature to be below freezing at the same time there was precipitation. My siblings and I would wait by the window late into the night, hoping the rain would become snow. It sometimes did but it rarely stuck. And if it did stick it was twice as useless as what we could get by driving an hour into the mountains.

I wore the wrong shoes today and my feet got drenched.

To get to the point, I'm sick of Winter. On the bright side, I only have two weeks left. In mid March I head to Portland and then to beautiful San Francisco. I'll be gone 1.5 weeks. And when I come back, Winter will be over. At least, that's how I've planned it.

And by the way, if we can trust wikipedia (and what type of world would it be if we can't), then the Eskimos do have a word for the white dogshit that's currently littering the New York City sidewalks.

Fate

2010-02-01T17:31:00.000-08:00

I knew I was going to be traveling a lot last week so I purchased an unlimited ride metro card. Here's what I did:

Tuesday: I went to NYU (for microtomy) and then to New Alternatives (for that I could bake some chocolate chip cookies for GLBT youth).

Wednesday: I went to see The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Thursday: I took my little friend Levi to see The Sleeping Beauty.

Friday: I went to see the movie The End of Poverty.

Saturday: I went to a friend's Basque themed party. There was a rather violent documentary about the Basque National Liberation Movement on in the background. I left early because I very suddenly became ill.

Sunday: My flu like symptoms kept me from volunteering on Sunday evening, but didn't keep me from going to see Present Laughter as well as making my seasonal stop at the vegetarian butchers on Sunday afternoon.

Monday (today): Sadly it also didn't keep me from working twelve hours today in pursuit of elusive rheological results that I desperately need before I present at APS in March. (Don't worry, I worked in virtual isolation, so there was no one for me to infect. The life of a rheologist is nothing if not lonely).

I used my last swipe to return from City College (the home of the rheometer) at 8pm tonight. I took fourteen rides total which means buying the unlimited card saved me a dollar. But since I usually just walk home from city college, I sort of lost a dollar. On the ride home, I thought about this. It would be really great, I thought, if I run into a friend as I'm leaving the subway station and they're heading out into the world for the night. Then at least some one could get a few more rides out of my card (unlimiteds expire at 3am). I knew the odds were slim though...
The train stopped at 110th street and when I walked through the turnstile, a person at the other end asked if I could spare a swipe. Stalling for time I asked him to repeat.
"It's okay, if you don't have one," he said, already turning to ask the next passengers. I nervously looked over my shoulder. Fortunately, no MTA employees were looking. I pulled the card out of my 'wallet', explained to him that it expired at the end of the night and quickly left the station. At first I was a little disoriented because I came out on the West side of Broadway (because I was on a downtown train). After that excitement passed, I thought about my card. At first I thought, what if that guy really needed my card to go help his sister who was in trouble at South Ferry (presumably stuck between the Staten Island Ferry and the docks, unable to yell loud enough to be heard, and with all the buttons smashed on her cell phone excepting the one for her brother's speed dial). Then I thought, what if that guy really needed my card because he's a hitman and he needed to go kill a little girl because she was too good at cheerleading and another girl's mother was jealous. (That really happened before, by the way, and HBO made a movie about it). I definitely felt responsible for whatever that guy was going to go do, and I hadn't even asked him. Finally, as I was turning the key to enter the front door of my building, I thought that I wished I had been raised in a Godless household like so many of my friends. Then I wouldn't worry about his actions. Oh, and also, it took me several tries before I could get the key to work.

Shame

2010-01-17T18:29:00.000-08:00

I'm currently wallowing in shame. What can I say, I was raised Catholic. Earlier today I was alerted (by an attentive reader) to the fact that I made a mathematical error in my post of Sunday, Jan. 10 (the one about all the shows and movies I saw last year). And this from the son of a math teacher. For those of you who've come to rely on this blog for regularly updated information on the world around you (meaning a little politics, occasional rheology, and lots and lots of facts about weird people from a city you've probably never even heard of[yes, there is more to come]), I'm so sorry I let you down.
So what was the mistake. I forgot to take into account any shows that my friend Schuyler and I saw together. This completely ruined the validity of my calculations. To correct this:

I didn't see any shows with Schuyler in 2007. In 2008, I also didn't see any, and in 2009 I saw 8 shows with Schuyler. I've plotted and fitted this data below.

If we then subtract this fit from both Schuyler and my previous fits, we will have only the shows that Schuyler and I saw independently. We should be able to get the correct and apparently only crossover point, which I now have calculated to be 2011. (see below).

P.S. No reader actually alerted me, because nobody leaves comments on my blog. For shame! Except TChhab and my brother, thanks people. And also, I apologize to all the people who have blogs that I never leave comments on.

P.P.S. Actually, when I would take my math homework to my dad for help, he would sit down with me at the dinner table, take the homework, sit angled ever so slightly away from me and just do it all for me. So I really shouldn't feel shame that I'm miserable at math but rather should just blame my parents, which I believe is also an area where Catholics excel.

Subway Quiz

2010-01-14T16:47:00.001-08:00

The MTA is threatening to make school children pay to use the New York City subway system. (The current policy allows three free rides a school day). I talked to Levi about this (see a post below for information on who Levi is) and he seemed thoroughly outraged, even though he has a rather spotty high school attendance record. My friend Schuyler (see a different post below for information on whether or not Schuyler hates lesbians) told me that he always watches the unionized subway workers and has never, ever, even once seen them do any work. I don't know about all that, but I do find it annoying that they're making this of all possible cuts. It seems designed to spark outrage. But more importantly, I find it to be a mildly convenient segway to the topic of this post...

First let me begin by complimenting myself (a rare indulgence for this modest blogger): I've ridden almost every New York City subway line, and certainly more than most of the people who parade about the streets pretending to be New Yorkers. As such, and also because I've meticulously read through some of the amazingly detailed wikipedia articles on the subject, I know a great deal about the subway system. But how much do you know? (see various posts below for information on the general esteem in which I hold my readers intelligence). Please take the following quiz if you wish to find out. Don't forget to tally your score.

Question One: If you're at 59th St. and want to visit the Museum of Natural History, but aren't yet familiar with the concept of an express train, it would be a bad idea to accidentally take one of these two trains:

a.) A & D

b.) B & C

c.) 2 & 3

d.) 4, 5, 6, & 7

e.) The Museum of Natural History is at an express stop. Every train stops there, except the L. Besides, I don't go there anyways because it's like going to a family reunion. That's because my family looks like prehistoric animals. (Here the pronouns I and my refer to the reader).

Question Two: During the off season, Santa Claus conducts this train. Also, parts of the train tracks have large amounts of water in them. Also this train doesn't enter Manhattan.

a.) the 6 train (because it stops near F.A.O. Schwartz)

b.) the C train (because Claus starts with a C and so does Santa if you only consider the top half of the S).

c.) the G train (I know 'cause I saw him on it and he winked at me and he was with another woman who wasn't Mrs. Claus and also God help us if whoever is in charge of the G train also is in charge of getting all of the worlds presents out on Christmas Eve. The G train never comes. If you live in Brooklyn or Queens, you can buy t-shirts that say 'Have you seen the G-train').

d.) Santa Claus doesn't exist. (I know because in kindergarten I sat on Santa's lap and then I pulled off Santa's beard and then I took a picture of me with Santa while I was pulling his beard and I brought it in for show and tell the next day and a lot of the kids started crying).

Question Three: This train is the guaranteed whitest of any in the city?

a.) 4 train

b.) 5 train

c.) Staten Island Railroad.

d.) The shuttle between Grand Central and Times Square.

Question Four: This is train is part of the only subway line that the blogger francpotatoll has never ridden on, not because it doesn't exist, but because he still hasn't received an invite to Fire Island from certain unnamed friends. (not that I want to go to Fire Island)

a.) the H train

b.) the X train

c.) the O train

d.) the K train

e.) the 10 train

Question Five: What is your favorite subway train, or alternatively, what subway train runs from the Northern most tip of Manhattan to the Southern most tip. You choose which question you wish to answer and thus there is no right or wrong answer.

a.) the 7 train

b.) the L train

c.) the E train

d.) the 1 train

e.) You've already used this joke before, in a different location, and it wasn't funny even then.

Answer Key:
1.) a
2.) c
3.) c
4.) a
5.) d (of course there always is only one right answer, anyone who thinks otherwise is a communist)

What your score means:
0/5: In order to answer everything wrong, you must have known all the right answers. Good job.

1/5: You really don't know a lot about the subway but that's okay, because you have other strengths? Maybe? You're probably good at making dal or something.

2/5: You didn't do very well, probably because you don't live in New York.

3/5: Because you have never liked me, you purposely misanswered some questions.

4/5: You didn't get the last question right because you're a communist.

5/5: You're a lucky guesser.

2009: Shows and Movies

2010-01-10T06:49:00.000-08:00

My friend Schuyler (who a lot of people hate because he told me the truth about lesbians), saw 105 shows last year. This was down from 127 the previous year. After he told me, I was inspired to learn the number of shows I saw in 2009. It turns out it was 27. This is up from 15 in 2008 and only 4 in 2007. I've taken the liberty of fitting Schuyler and my data in the accompanying graph, to determine when I will surpass him in number of shows seen. From my calculations, it looks like I will temporarily pass him in 2011 only to permanately take the lead in 2014.

So what did I see? Below is the color coded list. I've placed the shows in order from best to worst as well as generally categorized them as boring(brown), incomprehensible (grey), mildly entertaining (green), very good (blue) and euphoria inducing (purple). Beneath the theater list, as an added bonus, is the corresponding movie list for 2009. These are only the movies I saw in theaters, but that's mostly where I watch movies anyways.

Needless to say, if you see a show or movie that I went to see with you and wonder why I put it so far down on the list, it was probably because your poor company ruined the experience for me. :)

Theater:
1.) Next Fall (which is coming to Broadway this Spring)
2.) Circle Mirror Transformation
3.) Billy Elliot
4.) Hurricane
5.) Next to Normal
6.) Hair
7.) West Side Story
8.) Wicked
9.) The Norman Conquests: Living Together
10.) The Norman Conquests: Table Manners
11.) Why Torture is Wrong and the People Who Love Them
12.) Ragtime
13.) Penny Pennyworth
14.) The Late Christopher Bean
15.) Coraline
16.) Chicago
17.) The Lion King
18.) Loaded
19.) Idiot Savant
20.) Newsical the Musical
21.) Fantasy Football: The Musical
22.) Blithe Spirit
23.) Exit the King
24.) After Miss Julie
25.) This
26.) The Retributionists
27.) The Philanthropist

Movies:
1.) Slumdog Millionaire
2.) Where the Wild Things Are
3.) In the Loop
4.) Dare
5.) Inglourious Basterds
6.) District 9
7.) The Red Shoes
8.) Treeless Mountain
9.) Still Walking
10.) Gomorrah
11.) Waltz With Bashir
12.) Avatar
13.) Star Trek
14.) The Class
15.) Milk
16.) The Headless Woman

Matt and Levi

2009-11-23T14:52:00.000-08:00

For the past several weeks I've been volunteering at a Sunday meal for homeless GLBT youth. It's really enjoyable and not just because I have a thing for three of my fellow volunteers. (Yeah, that's right, three). ;( I really like some of the attendees as well, although because they are generally younger and more homeless than I, no matter how attractive they were I wouldn't say I had a thing for them. Which is not to say I don't like homeless people (my thoughts on such people were partially addressed in a previous post) but rather that the power dynamic would be inappropriate.
I especially like Levi, who's about the same age as my brother Matt (who's currently living as an exchange student in Germany). He also has similar elements to his personality, such as being a silent complainer. It's hard to describe exactly what I mean by 'silent complainer' but I know what I mean, and, as always, I think that's the most important thing.
But to try, both Matt and Levi have complained to me about the families they live with. Matt lives with a relatively wealthy family (his host mother is a doctor and I think his host father is an automobile salesman). He has two host siblings, a younger brother and sister. He complains that his younger siblings are spoiled; that they steal from his parents. He complains that the family always fights. Matt's family is very dysfunctional.
Levi lives in a foster home. His foster mother is about the same age as I am. She's not married or employed. According to Levi, the required 'source of income' that allows her to be a foster parent is food stamps. His foster family also includes two brothers but he said they aren't around much. He complains to me that his mother smokes pot and uses ecstasy and keeps the house poorly stocked with food.
Neither Matt's "parents" nor Levi's "mom" are very authoritarian. Matt is allowed to stay out as late as he wants with the only rule being that he be home and up for breakfast the next morning at 9am. Levi's mother doesn't have any idea where he goes half the time. She's completely unaware that he's involved with the Sunday meal where I met him, for example.
Both kids are political. Matt's shaken the hand of two presidents. He also specialized in hit pieces when he was the editor of his school newspaper last year. Levi volunteers at the office of Christine Quinn, the gay leader of New York's City council. He doesn't like Paterson. He was disappointed though, when Thompson lost the mayoral race because it meant there couldn't be a black governor, pres., and mayor. (I, for the record, didn't even realize Thompson was black).
Matt had to be prodded quite a bit in order to be convinced to leave his home in small town Oregon and set out for Germany. In the end, it was a great decision for him: according to him, he's 'been an adult for the last three years' and there's no way that my parents would have ever given him the type of freedom he enjoys in Germany. Which apparently the German teen takes for granted. I'm not trying to mock him, at any rate, because he's an exceptionally developed kid for his age.
So is Levi. From what I can gather, Levi made the choice to leave his family and join foster care. At least, I'm pretty sure he wasn't kicked out as soon as he came out to his family. He mentioned something about having to go to prayer groups and each week being asked 'Are you any less gay yet?'. In the end, I think his decision to leave was good, but it's tough to say. From what I can tell, his real mother loved him... although maybe a little too much. He told me she used to scrub his skin really hard with a bleaching cream when he was a little kid. Now his facial coloring is a little patchy.
He had to leave a younger sister behind. He told me she really looks up to him and his mother completely cut off contact for fear that Levi would turn her gay. (Which doesn't completely make sense, because she's a girl and Levi likes guys). Levi's older brother has tried to contact him but Levi didn't respond because his brother isn't all that sensitive to gay issues. While he was 'reaching out' to Levi I think he might have said some offensive things.
I'm not quite sure that there's a point in comparing Matt and Levi. Except maybe that, I wish that when I was their age I had been doing something nearly as exciting as either of them, rather than whatever the hell it is I was doing (which if I devoted space to a description would seem rather boring indeed). I never complained as they do when I was their age. So, I'm not sure what the moral of the story is but I think I'll pretend that this all means I'm a better person than they both. ;(

Out of Form

2009-08-22T16:19:00.000-07:00

Here's another non-traditional post in as many weeks (I know this makes little sense but I really like saying 'in as many weeks').
This is the letter I'm writing to my congressional representatives about health care. In the second paragraph I talk about my personal relationship to the health care debate. I hadn't really thought about this until recently, but I know a lot of people who are going to be completely screwed unless meaningful healthcare reform passes. Anyways people need to make sure we let congress know how we feel. Don't let the right wing drown us out.

Dear Representative Charles Rangel,

My name is Joseph Moll and I am a chemistry graduate student at Columbia, a loyal Democrat, and a constituent. I just finished giving a financial donation through ActBlue to the members of the house who have committed to voting against any health care bill that does not include a strong public health care option. I was disappointed to note that my representative’s name is not on that list. I urge you to stand with your progressive colleagues and also make a commitment to vote against any bill without a strong public option.

I take the issue of affordable universal coverage seriously. I have fairly poor coverage through Columbia University although luckily I am young and healthy. Many of my friends and family are not in the same situation. Two of my brothers are completely uninsured. My sister and her husband are both currently unemployed and their family of five is only able to afford a bare bones health insurance plan (with a deductible of $10,000 before 80% coverage kicks in). I sincerely hope nothing happens to one of my three nephews. If a bill is passed that mandates her family to purchase coverage but doesn’t provide them an affordable option (like a strong public option), that’s not fair. They and many others will be understandably angry. Meanwhile, one of my best friends is also in graduate school and unable to afford insurance. While we were undergraduates together she had her thyroid removed because of a medical condition. When she became too old to be on her parent’s health insurance plan, she had to quit taking the drugs which were providing her the hormones a normal person’s thyroid would produce. All she can do is ‘hope’ that nothing bad will come from this. (When she visited me in New York city, we had to take cabs or the subway even very small distances, because of the danger if she were to overexert herself without a thyroid).

Needless to say this is a very personal debate for a lot of Americans. If Congress passes and the President signs a meaningless, watered down health care bill, we will not be happy. As I see it, the progressive members of the house who are standing up for a public option are the American people’s last defense against this happening. I urge you, Congressman Rangel, please join them.

Joseph

The Fifth Chapter

2009-07-14T13:34:00.000-07:00

The following is the fifth Chapter in the book I'm trying to write. The reading level is kind of elementary school, but I'm going to make up for that later by adding in lots of gratuitous violence and sex (such that the book is only appropriate for very, very old people). Because honestly, who likes kids. Also, this is an early draft. Also, this doesn't make much sense standing alone. Rest assured that it still doesn't make a lot of sense in the context of the whole book. That's sort of my style:

Chapter 5:

"You've got to try this," Theodore was telling Timmy. "Bilawel taught me how to make it." Timmy waited expectantly for his brother's newest experiment.
"We put the cheerios into some marshmallows, add some milk, and then microwave it. I just hope I get the ratios right. I'm using colored marshmallows, they're more nutritional." Theodore was taking advantage of Timmy's gullibility. He filled the bowl to the brim with marshmallows, sprinkled some cheerios on top, added a few tablespoons of milk and microwaved it on high for two minutes.
"It's very mushy, but I still better blend it too, don't you think?" Theodore asked Timmy. Timmy couldn't say for sure because the bowl was being held much too high for him to see its contents, but Theodore was nodding so Timmy nodded along with him. Theodore grabbed a spoon and started scooping the brownish rainbow colored mush into the blender.
"I don't think it's supposed to be so brown," he said. "I'll add some food coloring. Why don't we make it red." He poured half a bottle of red food coloring into the blender and hit blend. A faint smell of burning began to fill the room. The motor was struggling, and probably would have failed if it weren't for the addition of a lifetime's worth of red 40, some of which had managed to trickle down near the blades. Still, not much blending was going on. Theodore gave up and scooped the treat into a bowl that he placed on the floor next to Timmy. Timmy cautiously stuck his finger into the reddish brown goop with watery red die in an indentation near the center, where it had managed to mostly collect. It looked like a volcano of blood, whose base had been formed from layer upon layer drying over millenia. Once Timmy tasted it, he was satisfied. It was quite a bit better than what Theodore usually fed him.
"What a mess!" Theodore said. He grabbed the gooped up blender and shoved it to the very back of the dishwasher, underneath a large pot, so his mother would not find it.
"Okay," he said, "I've got to do my homework. You can come watch me in the dining room, but don't bother me." He shook his head, indicating no. Timmy shook his head. He picked Timmy up, who was clutching to his marshmallow bowl, and headed to the dining room table. He set Timmy on top and got down his algebra book from the nearby shelf.
Theodore began trying to work on his homework. Timmy was using his left hand to clutch his dessert tightly to his chest and kept gooping his right fingers into the bowl. He would then stick them all together in his mouth, pull them out with a big pop, and giggle before going in for another dip.
Theodore looked up and glared, "Stop making so much noise, I've almost got this one."
The front door slammed and a few seconds later their older brother Benjamin walked in, looking upset. When he saw Timmy and Theodore he couldn't help but smile a little. "I know you like to experiment, Theo, but isn't it going too far to feed Timmy poop?" At this point Timmy shoved his face into the now nearly empty bowl in an attempt to lick out its remaining contents
"That's gross," Theo said, making a face. Timmy pulled his face out of the bowl, and scrunched it up in an imitation of Theo’s disgusted expression. His brothers smiled at him and he shyly returned to his marshmallows.
"Do you like your poop?" Benjamin walked up to Timmy and gently pulled his face out of the bowl using a tuft of hair at the base of his neck. Timmy smiled and nodded and then tugged his head away so he could give his full concentration to the bowl.
Benjamin laughed. His good mood didn't last too long. Especially when he saw Theo happily doing algebra homework. Benjamin was also learning algebra, and not nearly as easily. It naturally bothered him how quickly his little brother took to it. He sat down and started complaining.
"I've had a terrible day. Mom gave me a package to take to the post office this morning, a new draft of her paper that she was sending to her friend, Dr. Wilkinson. Of course the line in the post office was stretching to the sidewalk. And then when I finally got done, this little girl insulted me. She was on the steps outside," Theodore was struggling to concentrate on his homework, "and she asked my name. 'Ben', I said. Then she started chanting, 'Ben's a girl, Ben's a girl, I found a pearl on that girl.' 'No you didn't' I said. "I think that showed her."
"Yeah," Theodore murmered.
"I hated today so far," Benjamin replied, "and it's not even halfway done." Timmy was now done with his treat and crawling around the table, making quite a mess wherever he touched. Unfortunately this eventually ended up being Theodore's homework.
"Come on," Theodore said. "I can't concentrate, and now my homework's a mess. And by the way, your day didn't sound all that bad. You just love to complain. I'm going outside to study. I can't even turn this in." He grabbed his homework, crumpled it up, and threw it on the floor. He picked up his algebra book, a pen, and some fresh pieces of paper, and headed out of the dining room. A few seconds later the front door slammed.
"Sorry Theo," Benjamin said sarcastically. He picked up the homework and smoothed it out. "See you later little Timmy. I've got to go copy this over." He left the room, and poor Timmy, who was too little to get down from the table by himself, was left with nothing to do but sit and think.

*****

Theodore wasn't really upset. He just wanted to get back to his homework. He rushed down the stairs and out the front door, headed for the Riverside Park. It was then that he saw her, sitting on the steps outside the apartment building. She was Theodore's same age and he thought she was quite pretty, in a mad scientist sort of way. Her hair was a blonde/brown color and about double shoulder length. It hadn't been combed. She was wearing a sweatshirt that was too large along with patchy jeans and green sneakers. Her teeth were not particularly clean. She was whistling 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again'.
"Hey," she said, after seeing Theodore staring at her. She shrugged, in an effort at indifference, but her eyes were lighting up. "What's your name?" Her voice was pretty deep for a little girl.
"I'm Theo." Theo was scrambling to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound too smart.
"I'm Erin." She said, smiling.
"I like your sweatshirt."
"Thanks, me too. It's too warm out for this sweatshirt, really. But I already left my jacket at home. I made a compromise, the weather should meet me halfway."
“I don’t think it works that way.” Theo corrected.
“What’s that you have in your hand?” she asked. Theo quickly hid his algebra book and papers behind his back.
“Nothing,” he said. He took a few steps backwards so that his back was against the railing along the stairs and his study materials were just hanging over the drop to the garbage collection area below. He considered letting go, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Erin looked skeptical for just a second, but then seemed convinced, forgetting what she had clearly seen a few moments ago.
“What are you doing out here anyways?” Theo asked.
“I’m just counting the number of boys and girls that go by. My dad and I just moved into this building so I’m gathering information.”
“So what have you figured out so far.”
“It’s hard to tell, you can’t always be sure who’s a boy and who’s a girl. I consider a lot of factors, hair length, name, jewelry, eye color.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe to you, I suppose you’d just trust any one was whatever gender they told you. My dad taught me to be more discerning.” Erin looked a little angry. The use of the word ‘discerning’ from some one his same age sent a shiver through Theo. He decided he really liked this girl.
“No, of course not,” Theo shook his head vigorously, trying to make her happy. But he was naturally confused. He tended to trust that people were the gender they claimed to be.
“But to answer your original question, mostly girls…” she said, “but that’s only natural, considering there are more of us.” She dragged a dirty hand through her tangled hair. “Anyways,” she continued, “do you want to go do something?”
In his excitement, Theo almost dropped his book and had to bend backward over the rail to catch it just in time. “Yes,” he replied, while still bent unnaturally over the rail and with his face contorted in an attempt to hide his obvious excitement.
“Good, but I don’t want to do whatever it is your doing,” Theo quickly straightened himself up. “How about we go down to the post office and rile up the line. That’s what my older sister and I always used to do when we lived downtown.”
"Okay," Theo hesitantly replied, not sure what that would entail, but Erin was already on her way down the block to the post office. Theo stuffed his algebra materials between his back and his shirt, tucked them into his belt and then hurried after.
He caught up to Erin halfway down the block and only a few buildings away from the post office. She was talking to a tall, dark haired man in a business suit. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
"Sir, can you tell me which direction it is to the post office?" she was asking.
"I believe I saw a post office behind me," he answered. He gestured backwards. Theo nodded to himself, the nearest post office was halfway down the block and within clear sight. Maybe Erin wasn't as smart as he hoped.
"Come on Theo, we'll check this way." She turned around and started walking away from the post office and in the direction opposite where the man had gestured.
"But..." Theo began but before he could get any further, she grabbed his elbow, locked it in hers, and nudged him right in his gut. She then pulled forward, and they were marching together. Theo didn't object at all to locking elbows with this girl and was so caught up in his enjoyment he didn't finish his sentence. He squeezed her elbow with his to which she responded by pulling him forward even faster.
"Wait a second, I told you it was the other way," said the man in the business suit. Erin pulled Theo around so they were facing the man and glared. Theo's jaw was hanging open a bit from the excitement but when he saw Erin's expression he copied it with a glare of his own.
"I don't trust you!" Erin shouted. The man looked confused.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"What I mean is, what's your name?" Erin asked.
The man paused, "I'm Mr. Jones," he said.
"That name sounds made up," Theo said to Erin loudly, playing along now. She nodded her head. He wasn't sure if Erin was just messing around, but he was starting to not trust the guy for real.
"Listen, I told you the post office is down the street. You can pretty much see it from here. But if you really think I'm lying, go the other way, that's fine."
"We don't trust you, we've never trusted you, you're lying and this is our street. You're lying on our street." Erin shouted.
"Yeah, why don't you go lie on your own street!" shouted Theo.
"Come on Theo, we'll find the post office." They circled the block and ended up behind the guy, running the whole way. He had continued walking, and was just visible turning the corner.
"Why did we do that," Theo asked, as they approached the door to the post office from the other direction.
"Just for fun," Erin replied, "Okay, let's go rile up the post office line."
"But we're just kids," Theo said. "I don't think they'll let us in there if we don't have something to mail."
"You're right," Erin said. "Here, we'll get something to mail out of this blue mailbox depository." Theo seemed skeptical that the idea would work but before he had a chance to object Erin was grabbing his foot in order to boost him up. It seemed he was meant to be the one to reach in and grab something. He gently lifted his foot off her cupped palm and returned it to the ground.
"This is silly," he said nervously. "And pretty illegal. Maybe we can just go in without any mail."
"No you were right," said Erin, "at the first sign of riling they'll try and kick us out. We need to have a reason to stay and the reason is in that blue container." Theo looked very skeptical. "Come on," she said, looking hopeless, "I can't do it without you." Theo saw his opportunity to be a hero to his new friend, but was still hesitating. Erin could see she almost had him. "I'll create a distraction," she said. "No one will even know." She tried to pull off a wink, but it came out as a blink.
"I'll do it," Theo said courageously. "And while I'm doing it, you can create a brilliant distraction." Theo had barely finished his sentence when Erin was again boosting him up. He grabbed the latch to the mailbox depository, pulled it open and squirmed his way in. His body was bent at a right angle, with his upper half hidden from the world and his legs dangling out through the opening. Alas, there was a deficiency in the design of this (and all other) mailbox depositories. While one could easily put mail in, one could not easily retrieve mail. Luckily for Theo the box was exceptionally full and thus there were some envelopes just barely visible in the crack behind the lid. He went to work trying to pry one out.
Meanwhile, Erin, whose so called distraction (jumping jacks in front of the mailbox) was starting to draw attention, was getting a little panicky. Just then Dr. Sanderbagger showed up.
"What are you doing little girl," she asked.
"Um... I'm just trying to mail my package... um... I just mean maniquinn." She wasn't that great at thinking on her feet. In the past, her older sister had made up most of the details. "My dad just got so annoyed with him. He just said ventriloquism would be a dead end for me, just like it was for my mom. He just said put a stamp on him and dump him in the mail." She started nodding vigorously, very proud of her concoction.
Dr. Sanderbagger was very sad to see this little girl giving up her dreams. "Well, I'm sure your father has your best interests at heart," she said. "Here, let me help you." And with that they both grabbed one of the protruding legs and shoved with all their might. Poor Theo's head was thrust directly against the steel inside of the container. The jolt caused his algebra book, which had previously been tucked into his belt, to dislodge, slide down his back, slip through the neck of his shirt and hit his head from the other side. It then fell into the mailbox, out of reach. Theo grabbed one of the letters near the surface. At this point he had what he needed and his claustrophobia was really taking hold of him. He started kicking vigorously. He had to get out.
"Why is it kicking at us?" Dr. Sanderbagger asked.
"Oh, that's just an, um… reflexive mechanism," Erin replied. "Just put just one hand at the knees and you can just hold his legs straight." They both grabbed Theo's knees and, holding his legs straight, shoved him in as far as was absolutely possible. Theo was shoved just close enough to reach his algebra book, which he quickly grabbed.
"I think my Mannequinn's in good enough now." Erin said. "Thanks for your help."
Dr. Sanderbagger looked at the Mannequin skeptically. It really wasn't in at all. It's but was still hanging out of the blue mailbox and it's feet were dangling against the side. "Okay," she said skeptically. "I'll see you around little girl. What was your name?"
"I'm Sally," said Erin. They shook hands and Mrs. Sanderbagger headed down the street. As soon as she did Erin gave a small tug to Theo's right leg. He started climbing out, algebra book and a little blue envelope in hand.
At that moment Dr. Sanderbagger looked back to wave at the girl she believed to be Sally. Erin smiled and waved back and said through her teeth "stay behind the mailbox depository."
"Who was she?" asked Theo.
"I don't think it was a she, and whoever it was is heading straight into our building."
Theo ducked his head around the corner of the mailbox depository. "That's my mom!" he said.
Erin was a little embarrassed that she had questioned the gender of his mother. "What's that you have in your hand?" she asked. Theo held up the blue envelope. "No, your other hand." Theo looked down at the algebra book he was holding.
"Oh... I found this in the mailbox," he lied. "Looks kind of interesting."
Erin was already walking into the Post Office. "Come on," she said.
So he followed.

The People of State College Part Nineteen: The Dancer

2009-07-14T13:16:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated this blog in a long time because I've been running out of material. But then I thought how almost daily I develop an obsession with a new guy. People would be interested in that, right. :) Also, I feel like my blog is lacking in real, very personal details about my life. Details that one would never feel secure in sharing with the world except in blog format. (This has been a reader complaint.) Also, The People of State College was always a very popular series.
I met the red headed subject of this post in State College a few weekends back when I was there for a weekend of research. I met him in Chumley's, the only gay bar in State college (although apparently the city used to have four separate gay bars in the seventies!). He was sitting by himself at the other end of the bar and would occasionally begin to dance rather violently to the music. Apparently he can't control this. The bartender invited him behind the bar to mix drinks and he ended up making one for me. Later in the evening, I stared at him. :) I think he noticed this because he moved to a different location in the bar, directly behind me. This may have been to prevent further staring but I interpreted it as an attempt to talk to me. Anyways, it came out that he was an astronomist (not a word but this is what I called him). The next night I danced with him a little at the club next to Chumley's, which has a gay friendly night once a week. I asked him to visit me for pride weekend. He declined. It was a tragic, short lived, and probably one sided romance. But I got another facebook friend out of it. (I'm almost above 100).

The Other Vegetarian Restaurant

2008-12-02T07:04:00.000-08:00

Near Washington Square Park there are two fake meat vegetarian restaurants... Vegetarian Paradise Two and Red Bamboo. Three times previously I have gone down there to eat fake meat and see a movie at the IFC. I always wanted to try Red Bamboo but it inevitably had a line and Vegetarian Paradise Two did not. The people I go to see movies with are usually late and thus we are on a severe time schedule with no time to wait in line before eating. On Sunday I took my brother Dave down there just to try the fake meat(after seeing the Nutcracker). I figured that way, with nowhere to go, it wouldn't matter if we had to wait. But we didn't have to wait at all. Red Bamboo was very different. The staff were younger and more college studentish than at Vegetarian Paradise two. They were also significantly less Asian. When I used to pass Red Bamboo, I would note how much more hipsterish the establishment was. From the inside this was even more noticeable. They were playing Modest Mouse when we entered, and the Violent Femmes when we left. The couple to my right were talking about long distance relationships and relationships where it was too early to say I love you and all this stuff that I guess some people (real people?) talk about. The couple to my left was talking about food, but real hipsterish food. But since many of these details were one time things, I should describe what was specific about the restaurant. I guess the most important part about a restaurant is food, and I would say that Veg. Par. 2 had the better food... but the host at Red Bamboo was just attractive enough that I would go back there again, if there wasn't a line. I should have complimented him on his cool hoodie.

Rheometry

2008-10-05T17:18:00.000-07:00

I got brand new 8mm plates last Monday! They're so shiny and smooth and beautiful! And the boxes are so black and shiny and sleek!...

Oh man, I've become a rheometer nerd. I guess it wouldn't be that bad if rheometry were at all interesting. It's not... But since the readers of this blog have no idea what rheometry is, I will use it to make me seem cool(er)... Unfortunately, the inevitable lies I will have to tell may cause some trust issues with readership. But wouldn't that be as much the readers fault as mine. Yes!!! Yes it would. And I'm not just saying that because of my blog policy of blaming all blog problems on readers. I honestly believe that if someone somewhere is made to answer for my lies it should be you, the readers. Because you are the ones that prop me up on a pedestal that I in no way deserve. You, readers, disgust me!

So... rheometry, you ask, what is it? Excellent question. I am surprised you don't know, but... In fact, few people know what rheometry is, even though it is the cornerstone of modern scientific research. I guess the public ignorance is simply a testament to the historic modesty displayed by rheologists (like myself). We work day in and day out, putting in twenty three and 1/2 hour days, getting society at large out of every catastrophe since the great depression. We don't expect thanks. (Although, money would nice... you guys know my address). But I've been avoiding the question. What is rheometry?

To understand rheometry, one must first understand a rheometer. Imagine a tall blue man with a long swan-like neck. At the halfway point the neck bends at an abrupt angle and from it protrudes a cube shaped monitor (the face). Beneath the monitor (on the man's chin) are several buttons. These are very fun buttons (they come with a guarantee). And what does the neck connect to? Why, a fat belly of course. Inside the belly of the beast lies the important hardware. And atop the belly sits the mans lone arm. A black contraption on wheels that rolls over to grab and heat samples of interest. Oh, also, using the blue man analogy this man has no legs. So the rheometer only has one "limb". Just like Max Cleland. This is fitting because Max Cleland is an American hero and so is a rheometer, in a way. Finally, some rheometers are tan in color.

The above paragraph explains every aspect of rheometers. From the description one can clearly see how wonderful rheometers are! Some readers may be thinking: "but I still have questions." This may be because of low intelligence and should probably be checked out by a doctor.

Now, to explain rheometry. It's not complicated. Rheometry is what one does with a rheometer. So if one understands what a rheometer is (and it was pointed out above that if you've read this far and don't understand, you're unintelligent) then you clearly understand rheometry. For those few who still don't understand I will give one final hint... rheos is the Greek word for flow. (I should write a rheology textbook).

Maybe...

2008-09-28T17:26:00.000-07:00

My hair is so incredibly short right now, I'm thinking I should dye it. But what color?

The Past Week in New York

2008-09-27T19:49:00.000-07:00

Sunday: I had dinner at Vegetarian Paradise Two (Lemon Duck) followed by Un Secret at the IFC

Monday: In the afternoon I had Soft Materials Laboratory. Afterward I went to a reading of George Bernard Shaw's 'Cesar and Cleopatra'. This was quite good, but the seats were uncomfortable. I went with a new potential friend (an older gentleman) who was introduced to me by a mutual friend from State College with the express purpose of him showing me the gay ropes of New York. Afterward we went to the bar Splash for Musical Monday. Musical Monday consisted of clips being shown on several screens of scenes from musicals (a surprising number of which I recognized). The bartenders there were frankly a little underdressed. I was scandalized.

Tuesday: French class in the evening. After this I went home and made up all my food for the rest of the week, as I was quite busy last week.

Wednesday: I left halfway through my Polymers class so that I could go see Equus. This is a play about a boy who blinds horses and has to go to a hospital to be cured. It stars Daniel Radcliffe of Harry Potter fame. He did a very good job. The play was quite good, too.

Thursday: French Class followed by a Haunted House in the evening. The haunted house tickets were free, I won them from Time Out New York. It was billed as the best haunted house in America. It was not scary whatsoever. I went with my friend Manasi and we were both disappointed. Afterward we went to a Mexican restaurant in Alphabet City that seemed quite nice. Too bad I'm never down in that area. Manasi was supposed to meet some friends immediately after the haunted house but we got done way early and she is incapable of being on time. So she suggested we get a drink. After I left Manasi, I didn't want the night to be a complete bust. So I called up my new gay mentor (who I first met on Monday) to see if he could recommend another place to me. He didn't answer. He had told me previously that on Thursday nights Splash skews young, and I vaguely remembered how to get back there so I went. It didn't skew quite as young as I would of liked and at any rate the only person I ended up talking to was much older than me. Oh well.

Friday: Went to the Chemistry happy hour. After about 40 minutes I had to leave for French. After French I returned and when the debate started we brought a projector up and watched it.

Saturday: I have done nothing today.

The Past Month In New York

2008-09-26T09:21:00.000-07:00

I've been back for about a month now. What have I done? A list follows. (Note: To non-New Yorkers, if any of this stuff interests people take it as gentle encouragement to move here. Please!)

1.) I went to Vegetarian Paradise twice, once getting the fake duck, the other time getting the fake chicken.

2.) I saw Trouble the Water, an excellent documentary about Hurricane Katrina.

3.) I biked/walked around Summer Streets, a New York event where they shut down Park Avenue to cars so that people are allowed to walk where they please.

4.) I went to go see the revival of A Chorus Line, which has now closed. It was okay.

5.) I went to go see The Marriage of Bette and Boo, a play about a dysfunctional Catholic family, which was superb.

6.) I went to go see Hamlet, for free, up at the Cloisters. It was terrible. While there I also went into the Cloisters, which is a terrific museum.

7.) I went to the Met with my two brothers.

8.) I went to go see Starting With the Universe, an exhibit about Buckminster Fuller. It was quite fascinating. It was at the Whitney.

9.) I went to go see In the Heights with the incoming chemistry graduate students. It was good, but I did not like it as much as Richard wanted me to.

10.) I also walked across the Brooklyn Bridge with the above grad students, just after getting pizza and ice cream at Grimaldi's in Brooklyn.

11.) I also went out to the end of orientation dinner(for incoming grad students) at a terrific Italian restaurant. I wasn't supposed to go but I invited myself along and then, along with Carl who is one of them, went over the spending limit by a considerable amount. It was just the two of us at our table. We spent $117. Cait's table had five people and they spent $80 or so. It was great! Afterwards I went with Carl to the fat cat lounge and played shuffle board and ping pong.

12.) I spent labor day weekend visiting my sister and her family in Raleigh. We played tennis, picked apples and blueberries, made sushi, made pizza, and in general had a lot of fun. Although one of my nephews was very ill at the time.

13.) I went to go see Avenue Q. It was okay. It could have been funnier.

14.) I went to go see August: Osage County. This was another play about a dysfunctional family. It was too over the top. It was okay, but not as good as The Marriage of Bette and Boo.

15.) I went to go watch All the Presidents Men for free outside on a Pier near 70th street.

16.) I went on a killer bike ride through upstate New York on a bike that my brother gave me. We stopped for ice cream twice and rode within only a few miles of Connecticut and Massachusetts.

17.) I started learning French, an advantage of which is the percentage of gay guys who want to learn French. Most of them are a little young (it being an undergraduate class), but my French graduate TA is attractive. But yesterday in class he said he didn't know anything about this 700 billion dollar bailout. Maybe it could never be.

18.) I had lunch with Natalee from USF.

19.) I went to a welcome back for me/Indian indendance day party at Manasi's house.

20.) I had brunch with Melissa which was great and was graciously paid for by her and her boyfriend.

Dreams of Fortune

2008-09-26T09:02:00.000-07:00

The recent California supreme court decision legalizing gay marriage (coupled with the fact that California's Novembers ballot measure to reverse it appears doomed) has highlighted a national trend. State after state is lining up to get a piece of the gay marriage action. And if New York follows suit, my childhood dream could become a reality. But only if I get the word out to the right people that I am gay. This is why I mention it so much on my blog. Marrying up is every American's dream and I am no exception. As a partial Italian, Columbia has provided a good avenue for me to marry into the mafia. Then I will be rich beyond all my wildest dreams and can finally forget all my current friends and be happy. Oh well, so much for dreams.

Final Comments About State College

2008-09-26T09:01:00.001-07:00

State College has limited interesting people. Recall, however, that State College is in Pennsylvania. As such there are strict government limits on the number of interesting people that can live there and I blogged on most of them. It's a good thing I left when I did, because there really was no more material.

Speaking of material... The PSU material science building is called Steidle. It looks a lot like the Whitehouse from the front. Because of this a material science graduate student posted a flyer showing the building being destroyed by one of the alien ships from Independance Day.

Speaking of Steidle... Because Steidle is not in New York city, it can afford certain luxuries as compared to Havemeyer (the Columbia Chemistry building). It has a male bathroom on every floor (although like Havemeyer, it only has a female bathroom on every other floor). It has several fire exits. It has a door that remains unlocked 24/7. And... it has tons of drinking fountains.

Speaking of drinking fountains... Yum! Drinking fountains! Those were great! They meant I could cut back on drinking from my deadly nalgene water bottle, which has now been replaced by a SIGG aluminum bottle (Swiss made). I used to love that green nalgene bottle. But towards the end it always smelled funny and the plastic supposedly leeches chemicals. And the rubber on the lid turned from black to white.

Well, that about wraps it up for State College. And really, if the material on this blog was the only thing ever written about that city, it would be more than it deserved.

The People of State College Part Eighteen: Boring PI

2008-09-26T08:51:00.001-07:00

Note: Before I quit talking about people from Pennsylvania, I will mention this guy.

The first floor of my apartment building I lived in this Summer had an office. On it's door hung a sign... "This is not the building office."

In fact, the office belongs to a private investigator. Your probably thinking, how exciting, right? Well, one couldn't be more wrong. I talked to this guy once while we both got our mail. He was depressing, straight laced, and all around boring. His office was messy, but not in any sort of glamorous way and it was always very bright. Maybe I'm alone on this but if I hire a PI I have certain expectations. That he smoke a cigar, sit in a dimly lit office, occasionally speak into a tape recorder. After all, one can't have just anyone spying on there loved ones. Who's with me? He won't be getting my business. I guess I'll just have to continue "checking up on" my friends myself.

The People of State College Part Seventeen: Hawaiian Barber

2008-08-01T16:27:00.000-07:00

Note: State College seems so long ago, and I started this post a long time ago. Updates will follow on my current life in New York.

Downtown State College has at least a dozen barber shops, all of which are priced in the seventeen dollar range except one. Haircuts there are given by a female barber from Hawaii for a more affordable $12. At the beginning of my Summer stay I avoided the $12 locale, probably because of elitism. But right before I left I tried it out. She gave a damn good haircut. She told me how she always got threatening phone calls from the other barbers in town. They kept calling and begging her to raise her prices. She said in response she lowered her price to only ten dollars on Sundays and then they stopped calling. She had tons of attitude. For example, I told her the way I wanted my hair cut and she essentially refused and told me she would cut it the way she wanted it cut. But I like the end result. So no complaints. Actually, her husband is a doctor. Thus she really does not need to make all that much money cutting hair. So she is maybe a little selfish charging such a low price. But I don't judge. And she gave such a good haircut that if I ever find my way back to State College(which is looking increasingly unlikely), I will go there again.

Speaking of haircuts, recently I have been going to city college which is uptown(right on the border of Harlem and Washington Heights). Nearby I spied a haircut for only $10. So I tried it out (it was the first since the one referenced above). Because of language barriers, I now have incredibly short hair. End result: I may not be updating my profile picture on facebook for a while.

The People of State College Part Sixteen: The Blue Loop Bus Drivers

2008-07-12T15:31:00.000-07:00

A Chinese post doc and I went to play tennis today. I sucked and he didn't know the rules. On the way back we took the bus. A bus went right past our stop and the driver pointed behind her but did not stop. There were a lot of people on the bus so I assumed she was pointing at them and saying she didn't have room. But I've ridden the 38 Geary in San Francisco and I know that no matter how many people are on a bus you can always fit at least three more. That's just science. So I was angered. Especially because her bus was only three quarters full, tops.

At this moment I looked down the street and realized that she hadn't been pointing to the people on her bus but rather to another bus behind her.

I'd become what I always hated.

What I mean by that is while I usually try and distribute my hate equally, there is one group of people I hate above all others: People who complain when a bus passes them and they don't realize that the reason that the bus didn't stop was because there was another bus coming right behind. I just plain hate them.

Also, I learned today that even in small towns busses show up back to back. There's a conspiracy in there somewhere.

Movie Review: Shotgun Stories

2008-07-02T12:42:00.000-07:00

I want live in Arkansas. There is a statewide limit of twenty words to a conversation. For example: "You raised us to hate those boys, and we do, and this is what it's come to." Or, "My father died." "What'd you do?" "I said some things." "Do you think that was wise?" "Doesn't matter." Also, if me and my brothers get into feuds like they did in this movie then we will win. Because there are so many of us. And my little sister can join in too. Numbers help because in the movie they went back and forth killing brothers. So other families would run out before mine. And they started off with pets. And since my family has a lot of pets any other family would have to go through all of them before they could even start getting on my brothers and I. Also people in Arkansas have names like Shampoo. He was my favorite character. He always stirred up trouble by telling Son and Kid and Boy how their dog got killed, or how their brother got killed. Good old lovable Shampoo. Also the movie made it seem really scenic.

Too bad they never explained how Son got shot in the back. But other than that I would recommend this one.

Movie Review: The Wanted

2008-07-02T12:41:00.001-07:00

In this movie, a 1000 year old fraternity of assassins uses a loom to plan their next kill. They read a binary code from the the fabric. Some one in real life is going to do this and then the movie will get sued and it will be just what it deserves because this movie sucked!!!!!! No, it was okay. But seriously, Hollywood thinks all they need to have anymore are curvy bullets and everyone will be happy.

Movie Review: The Visitor

2008-06-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

This sucked. But... I can say that I was never confused as to where the scenes took place. This is because prior to every scene they showed the characters in transit. These transit scenes lasted up to a minute and were mostly on the New York City subway, which I try to ignore even when I'm on it. For a New Yorker, ignoring others is an art that can only be fully realized on a subway. But maybe non-New Yorkers find subway riding interesting. If so, then watch this movie.

Also watch this movie if you like laughing with a bunch of old people at jokes that aren't funny.

Book Review: A Thread of Grace

2008-06-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

I liked it. But there were too many loose knots that never got tied up.

I'm kind of embarrassed that I'm devoting a considerably smaller amount of space to book reviews than movie reviews. I did read the books I'm claiming to have read though. If I were making up books they would be longer, better known, and more tedious reads.

Movie Review: Under the Same Moon

2008-06-29T08:38:00.001-07:00

Really, really good. I loved this movie...

Usually when I go to the independant theater it is only me and a few interspersed elderly couples. Here it was me and tons of elderly couples. I think in the future I will avoid matinees.

I did see one young person there. I was heading up to the balcony and he was heading down from the balcony. He asked me "Is this the correct theater for Under the Same Moon." I told him yes. He left the balcony to sit closer to the screen. I went down there as well. I decided to try and make friends with him after the movie. He must have left early or something because when the credits started rolling he was not in his seat. Maybe he sensed my plan and left so I wouldn't talk to him.

People are too choosy about who'll they make friends with. Why can't they make friends with anyone, like me. I provide my current friends as proof that I have no standards. And yet I still have to go see movies by myself.

Book Review: Children of God

2008-06-29T08:35:00.001-07:00

In this book, Jesuits travel to a distant planet and in the process discover music that proves the existence of God. I liked it, it was a little preachier than the first book in the series but still good.

Movie Review: The Incredible Hulk

2008-06-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

While I will concede that Edward Norton is damn hot, without the tattooed up body from American History X he doesn't quite do it for me. His clothes did occasionally get ripped from his body. But only so he could turn into the Hulk.

And... the fight scenes were boring... there was no villain... not my first choice. But... some kids in the lab were going so I tagged along. I was sitting next to Choi (the Korean kid in my lab). Whenever anyone in the movie asked a question to another movie character he answered it out loud. "What's your name?" "Choi", etc.

So to recap: Limited eye candy (or regular candy for that matter). Bad fight scenes. No plot to speak of. Sucked in general.

Disclaimer: I know the tattoos in American History X were hateful. I know that. But still this post does not make me a racist. Recall that I voted for Barack Obama. Also, I have two Indian friends, two black friends, a Pakistani friend, a hapa kapani friend, Filipino friends, a half Columbian friend, and a Chinese friend. And even though over half of these people claim they are only my friend because they are paid to be so...

Unfortunately I don't have any Jewish friends. Many will still claim I'm an anti-Semite. It does not help that I hate Joe Lieberman. Or that I am sympathetic to Palestinians. Or that the people I hang out with in State College use the slang J.A.P. As a West coast kid I did not even know what this meant. Now that I do I make my face look skeptical any time it gets said. This satisfies my inner need to not be party to discrimination, and also allows me to fit in with the Pennsyltuckians.

The People of State College Part Fifteen: Old Women Crossing the Street

2008-06-27T07:39:00.001-07:00

My brother moved into my apartment last weekend. I went back to show him the ropes. I concentrated on street crossing rules as these are defining. For example: A New Yorker must never run while crossing a street. Also, if others are crossing the street it is always acceptable to follow along, regardless of how many cars with a green light are waiting (or even ambulances).

During the weekend we watched as one man casually walked in front of a charging city bus. He missed the bus by only two feet but he didn't speed up and neither did the bus slow down. They both had timed it well and that was that.

Street crossing in State College is different. Walking home from research yesterday I was stuck behind a large group of old ladies. They were walking very slowly and the extra time it would have taken to walk around or through them did not allow me to cross by the time the light turned red. So I waited. I wondered why the elderly are allowed in public. They are not safe in cars or as pedestrians. I think we should give them all wheelchairs. They could have locks in the back so they could only be operated by some one pushing the chair, and not the rider of the chair. Then if people felt like it, they could push an old person where they needed to go. Otherwise, the old people could just wait and let life pass them by (they would not be upset by this as waiting around is a favorite pastime of the elderly).

While I was waiting for the light to turn I looked to my left. I was trying to catch the lady who was standing there in the act of staring at me. I couldn't because she looked away too quickly. One of my favorite things is staring people down. I can tell out of the corner of my eye if some one is looking at me and if I catch them I glance back, forcing them to look away. Or sometimes, I'll be staring at some one else (often thinking up crazy stories about them). And I can anticipate when they are going to turn their head to see if I'm looking at them. So right before they do I look away, pretending to be enthralled by something in the distance. I then casually look back at the person and make my expression very accusatory. "How dare you look at me." And they are embarrassed and look down in shame. The point of this tangent is that you can always win a staring contest if you did not initiate it. It's kind of like tic tac toe, where the second player can always force a tie (and therefore never lose).

When the signal turned to walk I started to cross the street. I noticed the old ladies had only advanced about six feet down the sidewalk. I was amazed that people could walk that slow. Maybe this is why we allow the elderly to roam the streets freely. Because the moments of annoyed wonder they give us have a truly priceless quality.

The People of State College Part Fourteen: The Homeless

2008-06-13T21:49:00.001-07:00

State College has two homeless people and I've made a commitment to get to know them both. New York City has thirty thousand homeless people and I've made a commitment to get to know none of them. The homeless in New York are unapproachable. Immersed in New York's business culture, they are professionals. And in New York's cutthroat environment, they have to be fast (hence unknowable). For example: they can spend no more than three minutes in a subway car. They get in and tell a tragic story involving hungry children or veterans with missing limbs or a partially decapitated yet still cherished family pet in need of expensive medication. They quickly collect money. They get out. More personable homeless can't make it in New York. They are either weeded out of the homeless lifestyle altogether or move to San Francisco to live the easy life. There the homeless are paid a monthly stipend by the city and have taken complete control of the public bus system. Frisco's homeless while away the day. But in the Big Apple successful homeless never stop and talk.

New York does have underground mole people and I will make friends with them when I get back. I will ask a short person (Manasi) to point me in the direction of various tunnels she may have noticed. Because of their close proximity to the ground short people are good at spotting secret tunnels. Surely such a tunnel leads straight to the mole people lair. I will follow it and establish my place among their freakish clan. I will eat roasted rat cooked using the subways electric rail and then wrapped in a muddy dough flattened using the subways electric rail and supplemented with nutritious iron shavings scraped from the subway's electric rail. We will immortalize the underground in songs and regale each other with tales of the hated city above. But I digress...

Back to State College...

How do I know there are only two homeless? The number two comes from my conservative lab mate. It seems small, but I trust him in this matter because conservatives keep good tabs on the homeless. This is because if something bad happens to a conservative and they are not near a gun to shoot they can find a homeless person, tell him to "get a job" and feel better.

One of the two is African American and wears a poncho far too big for him. He carries an umbrella at all times of the year and advises passers by to "praise Jesus". He does this while engaging in a weird but endearing half dance, half fall. His hair is short and he is often at the same trash can, apparently searching for something. I need only ask him what he seeks to facilitate a meeting. Being a minority in a town of mostly whites, he may not trust me. So to convince him that I'm not racist I will tell him that I voted for Barack Obama (giving me lifelong immunity from the label of racism). We will become fast friends.

The other has a duffel bag, a backpack and a pillow that he ties to himself as he walks around. Even as the days grow longer his wrinkled, bearded face stays a pale color. He spends his time moving from one bench to the next in short spurts. He always sits to the side of the bench, leaving ample room for a stranger. This suggests he is not averse to a meeting.

According to my conservative lab mate there are also several "bag ladies". These are people he is hesitant to label as homeless, but who have too many bags about them to be considered normal. If I successfully introduce myself to the two actual homeless I will move on to these women.

Getting to know these homeless people will act as a sort of insurance. What I mean is, when I return to New York City, even if my research is a complete failure I can say "I met some homeless" and no one will shun me. Well, maybe they still will. But at least Richard will talk to me long enough to find out anything I learned about digging through trash cans.

The People of State College Part Thirteen: The Missing Undergrads

2008-06-13T21:24:00.001-07:00

I miss New York City and I am very happy that next weekend I will be back there...

But...

One of the best things about State College during the Summer is how few people there are here. PSU has 40,000 students, but almost all of them have gone home for the Summer. This is a city designed for a much larger population. It now appears empty.

Of course, not just students have left. Some of the restaurants and shops seem to have closed down for the Summer as well. Or so I thought. It turns out that the restaurants work in shifts. The ones that look abandoned during the day apparently thrive at night. Usually, these restaurants only have three or four menu items. They are scrawled in dry-erase marker on a menu behind the counter. The employees sit outside smoking or drinking until a customer comes by. The hours are indeterminate: 8pm-late night, where late night is code for "when we get bored." No effort has gone into making the restaurants presentable and they could aptly be described as sketcherific. Which explains why they are only open at night. They prey on people too drunk to care.

The People of State College Part Twelve: The Police

2008-06-12T09:36:00.000-07:00

What's this? Crime in State College, Pennsylvania?

A police car was outside my building this morning. The sidewalk surrounding the tall, brick exterior of neighboring Rosetti's Italian restaurant was completely cordoned off. A small group of onlookers gathered nearby. Eager to see my first mangled corpse I hurried over.

Imagine my disappointment upon discovering the cause of the commotion. No, it was not a victim of the gang wars of a powerful small town mafia. Rather it was the unwanted company of an intrusive hive of bees. They swarmed quite harmlessly in a nearby bush.

When you live in one of the ten safest cities in the U.S. policemen become beekeepers. I miss New York City. I miss walking home from Lizz's apartment in Harlem, nervously looking over my shoulder so as not to get mugged.

When I go back I have jury duty. And as long as I don't get assigned to a case involving a bee hive it will be a pleasant homecoming indeed.

The People of State College Part Eleven: Driveby Bigot

2008-06-11T18:33:00.002-07:00

Life is fun on a bike.

So I headed to Giant tonight to pick up groceries. It's ten times the size of West Side Market and empty. The way there is downhill and I was cruising and generally having a blast. Halfway there a passing motorist stuck his head out the window and yelled "faggot."

Let's analyze this. To be fair I was riding a girl's bike, head banging to a Bonnie Tyler song, wearing a striped polo shirt, and intending to buy soy milk in the near future. Assuming he knew all these things (unlikely) then his comment may have had some merit. I am reluctant to cut him any slack though as he couldn't even muster a manly persona. His voice was high pitched and nasally as well as barely audible. His car was a Toyata! Frankly he was a disgrace to bigots everywhere.

I've come to a few possible conclusions about his poor performance. Maybe Pennsylvania has so few minorities that he never got any practice.

Or maybe he was gay himself and he wasn't trying to insult me but was rather asking a question, "faggot?" We may never know the truth.

When I got to the grocery store I bought some bing cherries to remind me of tolerant California, where gay marriage will soon be the law. I brought them back to PSU and I am eating them as I type this, even though the sign in front of me clearly says "The no food or drinks in this lab signs are meant for everyone! No matter who please respect the lab." Take that, close-minded small town America!

Movie Review: The Counterfeiters

2008-06-09T18:34:00.000-07:00

This movie was very good. I was captivated throughout. It tells the story of an expert Jewish counterfeiter imprisoned by the Nazis. They use him and a team of printers and craftsmen to counterfeit the dollar and pound and try and bankrupt the allies. He and his fellow prisoners are treated very well for being prisoners in a Nazi concentration camp and this is a source of internal conflict for some of them.

Maybe I am demented, but sometimes I think I'm missing out on life because I have never been tested. I know the experiences that Jews faced in concentration camps were unimaginably terrible, but experiences like those are what determine what type of people we are. I wonder how I would act if I were living under a fascist regime. Would I resist on principle, even if I could live safely by following the crowd. I think I could die for a cause. But I don't know how much pain I could suffer. I got a sunburn this week and whenever it touches the back of a chair I wince and reflect on my weakness.

Movie Review: Note by Note: The Making of Steinway L1037

2008-06-08T18:10:00.000-07:00

Steinways are awesome! I'd recommend this movie, if not enthusiastically. It made me want to tour the Steinway factory in Queens.

Basically, the movie follows the making of a Steinway Grand Piano. It is a fascinating process which takes over a year and is almost completely done by hand.

The director was at the screening. Afterward he took questions. This was a mistake, as the audience was filled with old people. One old man thought that "question taking" was the same as "boring story telling." He went on and on about how he had visited the Steinway factory in the fifties and how he bought the second oldest Steinway piano in existence and generously gave it away. He was clearly well off (to give away a piano). If I were rich, I wouldn't give away pianos, I'd hoard them. He talked very slowly, stretching the story's length way past the breaking point. He talked without raising his hand too, an injustice that I thought I'd left behind in grade school. But he was a Columbia alum, so I cut him some slack. By this I mean stayed awake while he talked.

After the old man finished I finally got to ask my question. I wanted to know how much money the Steinway factory workers made. The director didn't know the answer. I stumped him, which is really the point of question and answer sessions. I think the other patrons were impressed.

Book Review: If On a Winters Night a Traveler

2008-06-08T17:52:00.001-07:00

I finally finished this terrible book.

The book tells of a reader (referred to as you) who cannot get his hands on a complete copy of any novel. Half of the book was in second person, which is really annoying to read. I don't like to be told what I did or didn't do or what I do or don't feel(mostly don't as I'm heartless and cold). The book's other half was beginnings of novels that cut off abruptly. These came in the form of interspersed ten page chapters. The first few pages of each was a struggle. I had to get used to new characters and an emerging plot. By the eighth page I would gain interest. Then the story ended.

Italo Calvino is the author. He's Italian. With no prior information one could predict he was European by the unnecessary amount of sex in the novel. As an American I was offended. He grew up in Cuba too, so he was probably a communist.

I'm not sure what the point of this book was. It was an exercise in frustration. I only finished it to prove I'm literate to this blog. After all, my only previous book review has been Hitchhiker, and that was based off a radio serial. I have developed a theory. I think Calvino had writer's block and so he stitched together the beginnings of several unfinished stories and passed them off as one complete and innovative new form of literature (the same as I will one day do with the unrelated postings in this blog).

A student recommended this book to me. I want to tell him I read it so he will think I'm cool. Maybe then he'll write a glowing letter to Professor Norton about me. How else can I win one of the Chemistry Department's yearly teaching awards. After all, they only give out eight. But since I hated the book, I guess I'll keep quiet.

Movie Review: Baby Mama

2008-06-07T21:27:00.000-07:00

The Chinese post doc in my lab loaned me a bike for the weekend. I spent the afternoon roaming around campus (including the surrounding farmland owned by PSU). In the evening I went to go see Baby Mama. It was nice traveling to the movie theater by bike.

I didn't go to the same theater as before but it was still far. The attendants were much more pleasant. They let me store my bike in their supply closet. The ticket was a regular size and they tore off part of it when I went in the theater. Unfortunately, the air conditioning was broken in Baby Mama's theater. One of the attendants explained to me that this happens a lot at Carmike theaters which she has worked in all over the state.

The movie itself was very funny. I love Tina Fey! Through humor she makes me care about problems that females face. Well... not really, scratch that, actually. But I would still recommend Baby Mama.

After the movie, the closet door was open and my bike was waiting for me. The theater staff took good care of me.

I had to ride my bike back in the dark. It was dangerous. But I live for danger so I was down with it. Halfway back there was not enough space on the right shoulder of the road for safety, so I crossed over to the left shoulder. If it were up to me I would live my life with reckless abandon, but I cannot disappoint my adoring masses. Being on the left shoulder meant I was blinded every time a car passed. I wondered what they thought of me. They must have thought I was crazy doing something so dangerous. To prove I wasn't I decided to look the next driver straight in the face. Of course the glaring headlights prevented me from seeing any faces but when the next car passed I stared straight where I thought one should be and didn't look away. And then a thought occurred to me. If I couldn't see a driver, maybe there wasn't one. All of these cars might be driven by phantoms. This really scared me. At this moment the trees on the side of the road creeped right up to the edge and I felt sure something was going to jump out at me.

A few minutes later the sounds of drunken college students alerted me I was back in downtown State College. I think next time I'll go see a matinee.

The People of State College Part Ten: Mysterious Foreign Lady and Her Helpless Captive

2008-06-06T15:54:00.001-07:00

The material science building is shaped like an E. My research advisor has two labs... one at the end of the E's bottom tooth, the other at the end of the center tooth. His students get their exercise by walking back and forth between them.

The halfway point on the bottom tooth holds a lab for computational graduate students. Through the lab's open door a voice travels. Thickly accented, it turns right and meanders to the end of the hall. There it seizes my ear. My mind struggles with it, inventing wild stories about it's mysterious owner.

Who is she? If she's a graduate student, she doesn't look the part. She's too old(at least 50). When she walks, her head is no more than 5 feet off the ground. She's hunched forward. She walks with her feet quite far apart and her arms do not hang at her side. Instead they reach slightly forward, halfway between zombie and normal person. She wears black rimmed spectacles that rest at the very tip of her nose, which is rounded and rosy, like Santa Claus'. She has a mass of black curly hair. Her clothes alternate. Today the modest dress of a librarian or piano teacher. Tomorrow the rebellious garb of an unruly teenager.

Her voice has a lecturing quality. Although she speaks English I can't pick anything out. She talks to her fellow computational graduate student, who she has under her complete control.

Her accent sounds Eastern European. When she talks her voice rises and falls rhythmically giving the strong impression of an incantation.

Because of this, I have surmised she is a sorceress. It would explain a lot: Why the lab mate she controls always has a glazed look on her face? Clearly her senses have been dulled by a spell. Why she is still a graduate student at such an old age? Because she also controls her research advisor and forces him to let her stay. She's probably been here for years. She uses her graduate student guise to steal chemicals for her potions.

My heart goes out to the other student in that lab. I pass her sitting lonely at her computer. She entered grad school to learn. Instead she became the captive of mind dulling witchcraft. When I go by their lab I look in at her. As soon as she sees me she looks down. She has been trained to fear outsiders. Once I heard her singing. It was on a weekend and the sorceress had not been in the lab for a few days. The bravery and independent will it must have taken to produce that song gave me hope. She was regaining control. But like a fool I had to investigate. As soon as she saw me peering in at her she stopped mid note. For three seconds she held my gaze. She then took a swig of water, looked down, and began typing rapidly. Too shy for an audience she retreated back into herself. Now she never looks up when I pass her. Furthermore, when I see her master in the hallway I am confronted with suspicious looks. Penn State is a far more dangerous place than I ever imagined.

The People of State College Part Nine: The Amish

2008-06-06T15:41:00.001-07:00

Well... I guess no Amish actually live in State College. They come into town for the farmer's market which I went to for the first time this afternoon. I wanted fresh fruit and also Amish baked goods.

I was very excited when I saw them. The women were wearing bonnets. The men had long orange beards. Only there faces remained uncovered by clothing. I headed straight to the first table of baked goods. I bought two pumpkin whoopie pies with the intention of bringing one back to the undergrad in our lab. I ate them both. The girl I bought them from was probably twelve or thirteen. Instead of saying "Can I help you," she said, "Can I help somebody." She was talking straight to me. Her pitch rose quickly on "somebody", strongly emphasizing her question. She tried to undercharge me by a quarter. She also couldn't remember whether I had given her a ten or a twenty and had to ask me when giving back the change (I only gave her a ten). While I was at the market I also bought strawberries (I ate two) and a blueberry turnover(which I ate).

The Amish were not the only vendors at the farmer's market. I felt bad for the others. Given the choice between an Amish baked good and an English (what the Amish call us, according to wikipedia) baked good nine out of ten people will choose Amish (according to the made up statistics department of this blog).

Actually the Amish baked goods weren't that terrific. I've concluded that the goods were sold by impostors. People who understand the market value of a good disguise but who lack basic baking skills. I would do it too if I didn't hate having a beard.

The vendor who sold me the turnover shared a laugh with me. I think this may have been to be polite. I made a joke about having to do laundry (after she gave me several quarters change) but the Amish don't have laundromats, so it may have gone over her head.

There were lots of Amish children there. I wonder what their life is like. They are only educated through the eighth grade (wikipedia, again) and they live an isolated existence. They all seemed friendly though. I caught a little Amish boy staring at me. I think he was more curious about me than I was about him. Interestingly, none of the Amish children were playing. They either worked along side their parents or laid silently in the grass. Contrast this with my migrant worker blueberry picking excursion last Summer. The hispanic children played all throughout the fields. But maybe it was too hot today.

The People of State College Part Eight: The Glass Blower

2008-06-06T12:36:00.001-07:00

I went to the stockroom to get supplies the other day. No one was there. On the way back I passed the glass blower. I was with my conservative lab mate and he stopped in to say hi and borrow some glue. The glass blower kept us there for fifteen minutes.

First I will describe him. His nose is curved and very pointy at the end. He has a complete head of hair (although very thin). His head is spherical. His stomach does not fit with the rest of his body. It bulges out unnaturally. The shirt he was wearing was a little too big for him. He talks in spurts. For ten seconds nothing and then he shoves three sentences into four seconds.

So anyway, he showed us the project he was working on. He told us all the professors think they know how to blow glass better than him. They tell him "I would blow this myself if I had any time." He was laughing when he said this. He showed us his posted rates. It said:

Glass blowing: 20 per hour
If you wait: 40 per hour
If you watch: 60 per hour
If you help: 80 per hour
If you've worked on it already: 100 per hour

He showed us different types of glass: low quality, high quality, intermediate quality. He told us a lot about glass quality. He told us how he heated up some bottles with a funnel coming out of them. The funnel broke off because of poor glass quality and now he has to fix them. He showed us glass that was contorted in some really weird ways.

He's friends with the building janitor, too. I 've seen them talking. They are birds of a feather. Nobody would give so much unsolicited information in New York City. But it's not boring. I would listen to either of them for a long time.

The People of State College Part Seven: Old Guy At Bar

2008-06-04T06:09:00.001-07:00

On Tuesday my conservative lab mate invited me to sushi with him and his girlfriend. I agreed to go because I'll go wherever I'm invited. By adopting this policy I have some place to go once every other month. The rest of the time I sit in my room and weep.

After dinner we went to a bar. My lab mate loves country music and it was country night at the bar (I provide this as further evidence that he's a conservative). We sat down at the counter and ordered a few drinks (which are amazingly cheap in State College). We were sitting at the corner of the counter. I was on a stool, to my left the counter turned a corner, and then came my conservative lab mate and then came his girlfriend, also both on barstools.

After a pleasant first half hour the stool to my right became occupied. By an old man. He stared at us with a weird half grin. I smiled back at him and then looked away, a little creeped out. He didn't stop staring. I should have realized that he wanted to talk to us. My conservative lab mate said hi.

The man's mouth became a faucet. But not a regular faucet. The kind that gives out tap water(perfectly good to drink although some will only drink the bottled type). It became one of the industrial faucets that clearly says "non potable water" above it.

His monologue was true to old man form. He started off by complaining. After this he moved on to some more complaining. After a little more complaining he finally started giving out "wisdom." This amounted to telling us how much we would hate life in thirty years. At just under three hours, his old man spiel was surprisingly short. I actually didn't stay for the end of it and had to get filled in the next day.

His basic point was that when we get older we will compromise our principles to get ahead. I can't go into detail about it as remembering his words sends me toward sleep.

It seems weird to me to try and join the conversation of three complete strangers. To start talking to one person sitting alone makes some sense. But three? Although I guess three makes more sense than two or four.

To legitimize the conversation he bought some alcohol. I feel like this is a weird form of prostitution for friends. I wish I would have refused. But I didn't actually drink from the pitcher of beer he bought.

My few trips to the local gay bar had prepared me for listening to old person spiels. But the old people there are gay. So they're filled with all sorts of intriguing quirks. Or at least most of them have earrings. At any rate, even if I'm not interested in what they say, I can invent stories in my head about past adventures they've had. With this guy, the only thing my brain would come up with was him sitting in front of a computer and clicking yes or no on the screen.

P.S. I hope no one is this hard on me when I am old.

The People of State College Part Six: My Apartment Mate

2008-06-04T06:01:00.001-07:00

I am sharing an apartment in State College. It is a two bedroom apartment that is designed for five people but over the Summer there are just two of us. My apartment mate is very tiny. She is very attractive for a girl. I make efforts to be friendly whenever I talk to her. I don't talk to her often because we have little in common...

For example:

She really likes to throw things away. I think everybody gets pleasure from throwing certain things away. Things that definitely belong in the trash like Adam Sandler films and old college friends. But she throws everything away.

Mostly what bothers me is the food. She buys lots of food and then doesn't eat it. A few weeks later she throws it away. This morning she took down a bag of bananas that had been on top of the fridge for a week or two. "Oh, I forgot about these," she said. "They're not any good now. I'll make something with them later." She said this for my benefit. What she meant was "Oh, I forgot about these. I'll put them back on top of the fridge for now. By this afternoon I will have forgotten about them again. In a week I'll buy a new bag of bananas and throw this bag away." So I swiped one. It tasted like alcohol.

She's like an anti-bum (or maybe an anti-Richard). Instead of removing things from the trash she places things in it. Maybe growing up her parents owned a garbage company. When she was a little girl they would send her to spend the night at friends' houses. "When everyone's asleep," they would tell her, "Take these metal weights and place them in each trash bin." Her parents garbage business was amazingly successful and she became hooked on the act of filling trash bags.

Or maybe they had her place valuables in the trash. She would mark the trash bag and later they could easily retrieve it. They would sell off fine china and famous paintings. They would become disgustingly rich but her young mind would never develop an understanding of what actually constituted trash. She would then spend years throwing different objects away. An experiment of sorts on her part. "Does this bag of bread seem out of place in this trash bin?"

I don't want any reader to get the wrong idea. She's very nice and an incredibly easy person to share an apartment with. Her and I just view the purpose of a trash can differently.

P.S. My building has a trash shoot! This is a very cool contraption which one throws trash into. When I buy a house it is going to be loaded with shoots and other contraptions. A laundry shoot, a dumbwaiter, and, now that I know about it, a trash shoot.

Movie Review: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

2008-06-03T05:34:00.001-07:00

I watched this movie and it was very enjoyable. So I should be happy. But I'm not because everybody else I've talked to didn't like the movie. I keep wondering 'did I miss something'. I shouldn't have seen this movie on the opening weekend. That way I could have waited to see what others had to say and tailored my comments and opinions to fit in better. But I still like the movie. It wasn't the best Indiana Jones movie. But it definitely wasn't the worst. For having no Nazis in it (as the enemy) I think it did a stand up job.

Book Review: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

2008-06-01T19:11:00.000-07:00

I read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It was funny. It was the 25th anniversary addition. The first half of the book wasn't the book itself. It was just 90 pages of hype talking about how great the book was. It was interesting but it set me up for a let down.

Also the book didn't have any character humor. It just had funny idea humor. I liked it, but some character humor would have been good.

The People of State College Part Five: Creepy Serial Killer Guy

2008-06-01T17:45:00.000-07:00

Tonight I am in the lab late. My plan for tonight had been to watch the Counterfeiters at the local independant theater. It won Best Foreign Film and it has Nazis in it (as the enemy) so it's sure to be good. But... since it's Sunday there is no late night showing... and I missed the 7 p.m. showing. So I went to the lab.

There are often people in the lab late at night. This is probably because we live in State College and there is little else to do. However on the weekends there is just one guy. Creepy Serial Killer Guy. He is always around late at night. When I sit at my desk I can hear him making weird high pitched groans (reminiscent of Sloth Fratelli from The Goonies). He is a very large guy and his accent indicates he's probably from Eastern Europe somewhere. He looks like he heads the State College Russian Mafia. I also often hear him singing along to songs in a different language, which sounds Ogreish. I assume the songs are about blood.

I have to walk by his office to get to my computer and whenever I do he slowly turns his head and there is a brief and scary moment of eye contact. I could avoid this creepy eye contact if I did not look inward to his office. But it is late at night, the hallway is dimly lit, his office is very well lit, and like a moth drawn to a lightbulb my eyes turn to meet his murderous gaze. Our eyes lock for only a moment then he swiftly returns to his lab top screen. My skin tingles as I head to this very computer, wondering "will tonight be my last." This exact sequence of events occurs without fail. So far he has not killed me but this brings little comfort. He is clearly a careful planner and not given to passion. Sometimes I hear his chair creek backward, indicating he is leaving his desk. Knowing the end is near I quickly look around the room for something that can serve as a weapon. Then I hear a bell sound. The elevator door down the hallway is opening. Some one else has entered the lab and I am safe. He only kills in secret.

That I have been saved more than once by that elevator bell is quite lucky as there is nothing that remotely resembles a weapon near my desk. There is a ping pong ball and three stacks of post it notes. There are also several books on polymers. Given time I might be able to create a weapon from these. But the post it notes do not belong to me and some of the other people in the lab are rather possessive. I have decided it is better to accept my death when it comes. I have considered writing a note for help on a post it and using a polymer book for a weight. I would throw the note out the window and it would reach a passerby below. But the chances that anyone would be walking by at the right moment are astronomically small. And if they were they might just steal the book. And if they did I would have no moral high ground. For I would have just stole a post it.

And at any rate, I am only here for the Summer. He may not get around to murdering me before I leave.

The People of State College Part Four: Movie Ticket seller

2008-05-31T17:36:00.001-07:00

The only theater near downtown State College is independant. It shows foreign films.

So anyway, about a week ago I was in the mood for a movie. The independant theater wouldn't do because as much as I enjoy feeling sophisticated and superior, at the time I wanted to be entertained. I looked at a map online and discovered that there was a movie theater within 2.3 miles of my apartment. This was a walkable distance(since I don't have a car, it had to be). I wanted to go see Baby Mama, the new Tina Fey movie. The movie started at seven. I left my apartment at 5:40 pm. On the way I tried to take several shortcuts. This was a mistake as Central Pennsylvanians are very fond of dead ends. I backtracked and decided to stick to College Avenue. There were no sidewalks but it was not a dead end.

I know I can walk a mile in about 20-25 minutes. By the time an hour passed and I did not seem like I was close to Carmike Cinema 6 I started to get nervous. I passed several grumpy looking people but I finally found somebody who looked friendly enough to ask for directions. I asked for directions. I actually did this several times. Everyone told me the theater was not far. They all seemed to think I had a car... which made sense inside convenient stores connected to gas stations but did not make sense when I asked people on the street. They may have been blind? I'm not sure that excuse is legit. I think more likely they were so unused to the idea of some one going to a movie theater without a car that they assumed I had one that was invisible.

Forty minutes later I arrived at a movie theater (not Carmike Cinema 6). The road signs heading back toward my apartment said "State College: 4 miles". I was very tired and it was getting late and there were no sidewalks on the way back and Pennsylvania drivers are crazy. But I had come this far so I bought a ticket. The cashier sold me a ticket to the new Indiana Jones movie. The ticket itself was a very flimsy strip of paper about a centimeter wide and two and a half centimeters long. I said to the cashier "really, this is a ticket" He told me "Yeah, so hold onto that, be careful with it" He said it like I was a child and then turned back to his friend. He also sold me a student ticket but never checked my ID. And nobody ever looked at that flimsy strip of a ticket anyways. So even though I heeded that guys warning and was extra careful with the ticket, it never did any good.

The People of State College Part Three: Postal Guy Number Two

2008-05-31T17:25:00.000-07:00

After my first visit to the post office I was dying to go back. As luck would have it shortly thereafter I had another package to send. I headed on down there expecting to have another run in with Postal Guy Number One. Instead I had my first meeting with postal guy number two.

My friend Taruna had recently given me a Vans t-shirt and a Yankees t-shirt. On that day I was wearing the yankees t-shirt. I walked up to the booth and explained to the guy that I needed to send a package but I hadn't wrapped it yet because I wanted to put the receipt inside. He told me "I'm sorry sir, the yankee line is two booths down." However, he was the only clerk in the place and there were no other booths. He said some other jokes too which were funny but which I don't remember.

So anyway, I sent the package. Apparently these two postal clerks work as a team and are really cracker jacks. My conservative labmate told me that if you go in during the school year when the post office is busy and there's a line those guys will hold up a sign that says something quirky like "nice shoes". He also told me that the US Post Office was going to shut down that branch and there was a big student protest. The students position was that they relieved their stress by going to the post office... and please don't take it away from them. I'm not sure if that's true or not because I think my conservative labmate often makes stuff up.

The People of State College Part Two: Friendly Janitor

2008-05-31T17:19:00.000-07:00

On the second day I got to State College I met my building's janitor. She is a very interesting person. She talks to me often. She told me her janitor cart is her desk and that if anybody wanted anything on it they should come to her and not take it. This makes sense to me. However, she snagged me as I was walking in the hallway to tell me this and she spent fifteen minutes to say it. Before I had never looked at her cart or considered stealing from it, but now I am always tempted.

She told me about the upcoming arts festival in state college. She said one time she saw some well crafted dolls that she mistook for people at it. She thought they were in line at a booth so she didn't go up to that booth.

She has worked here many years and was almost certainly here when my research advisor in New York used to be in this department. She does not provide for as many funny stories as some of the other people I've met here but she is still cool. I prefer her to the janitors at Columbia. She's friendly to the students. She doesn't sit hiding in an empty classroom for half the morning either.

The People of State College Part One: Postal Guy Number One

2008-05-31T12:13:00.000-07:00

So I went to the Post office the other day. There was only one person in front of me in line. He left and I went up to the postal clerk and said "I need to mail this package to New York City". He said "I can help you with that buddy... just stay calm, we're going to get through this." I thought this was an odd thing to say, because I am a very calm person. Him saying that made me self conscious about my calmness and in the act of trying to appear more calm I became a little less calm. He then said "I need you to tape this package up, but do so carefully". He directed me to some tape lying on the countertop. I was slightly flustered at this point but determined to tape the package well. I walked over to the tape and began.

While I was taping other customers came and left. I heard the postal clerk tell one guy "Connecticut huh... So you are actually allowed to drive." This was after checking his driver license for ID. He made a good point: Should people from Connecticut be allowed to drive?

After I had finished, I realized I had actually used more tape than was necessary. "You did a good job there buddy." He said, "We're going to get through this." He also told me that I would not need to take his remedial taping class and that he was very surprised I had done so well because he had not expected it. The compliments put me at ease. He entered the address I was sending the package to in the computer and told me that it would cost five dollars. "But are there not options for how fast I want to send it," I asked, "because I need to send it overnight." He said, "you don't want to do that buddy. We'll just send it regular priority." He then continued getting the package sent as he wished it to be sent.

This was a problem for me because I needed overnight on orders from the post doc who was in charge of me. After some debate, I was able to convince him to allow me to send it overnight. This was after I told him that I would get reimbursed for the extra cost. "I'll send if for you," he said. "There not going to reimburse you buddy. They never do, but if it really has to be overnight then I'll send it overnight for you." This ended up adding slightly more than fifteen dollars to the cost. Then I left. I had made it through my first State College postal visit.

P.S. I will make it known whether I get reimbursed or not. So far it is a no go, but these things take time.

Introduction

2008-05-31T07:24:00.000-07:00

I have never had a blog before. However, I have also never had anything published and I don't have anything meaningful to say... so I am clearly qualified to blog. I intend to devote large sections of this blog to people that I meet who are far more interesting than myself (but not as interesting as the readers of this blog). Since this is a blog, a fair portion of it will also be devoted to random ramblings. Finally, an occasional book or movie review will be thrown in. But first I must briefly introduce myself:

Hello,

ABOUT ME:
I am a graduate student studying at Penn State for the Summer. My (more) permanent home is New York City. I have brown hair. And green eyes with brown specks. I was raised a west coast kid. I'm very progressive. I am studying chemistry. Based on my incoming class of graduate students there is a 25% chance I am female and a 75% chance I am male.

PHOTOGRAPHS:
I didn't bring my camera from New York City but I think I can take a picture off facebook if any one is interested (conveniently all of those pictures are from before my face became horribly disfigured in a chemical accident). That last sentence was a joke and I just realized that some reader's face may have been disfigured in a chemical accident. If that is the case, sorry for being insensitive.

THOUGHTS ON HUMAN DECENCY:
Human decency is okay I guess. I prefer a pretense of decency and kindness for about six months followed by unimaginable cruelty.

THE NUMBERS:
I am 24 years old. I am above average height but not as tall as I could be. I am below average weight but not as skinny as I could be. I am above average nerdy but not as nerdy as I could be. I have zero piercings although I am not opposed to them. I do often accidentally cut myself though. I have above average intelligence(notice how few spelling errors I made in this post). I'm a slightly above average gay person (where average is Ellen Degenerous, Andrew Sullivan is way below average, and Rosie O'Donnell is way above average).

Based on the above numbers I have assigned myself a point value of 1000 points. Keep in mind this was a tricky calculation because most of the above numbers are not actual numbers but rather vague references to made up averages. However, since 1000 points is quite a high number of points, readers would be well advised to avoid questioning my methods.

FRIENDS:
I like to make my friends laugh but I wouldn't do anything for them. I'd need to know what I was getting in return first. I often make fun of anybody that I become friends with so as to build my self esteem. But I'm good at convincing people that my constant insults are only jokes and therefore no one usually takes offense.

BORING FILLER TO MEET MY PUBLISHING QUOTA:
I tend to watch comedies more than dramas; for example The Office and 30 Rock. I did see some episodes of Weeds though, and they were interesting. I like to play tennis. I am not super artistic but I like crafts or other projects that involve time and concentration. I like things that involve laughing. I am carless and I prefer to do things that involve walking places.

DISCLAIMERS:
I am below average weight for Pennsylvania... but probably not for New York City. Also, if you read the boring filler and were bored by it I cannot take responsibility. Things can only be made so clear.