Say it with Song

This song describes my pump:
Up Down by Shinee (enough English lyrics for you to get the idea)


This is how I feel right now:
I'm So Tired by the Beatles


So, this is what I'm listening to:
Wherever You Are by One Ok Rock (yep, it's in English, mostly)


And:
Notes 'N Words by One Ok Rock (they're my happy place, what can I say?)

Yesterday and Today

Pump would not start.

Called in electrician -- found a breaker flipped and flipped it back.  

Removed questionable gate valve to make system more vacuum tight.  

Went to turn on pump.  It sparked and smoked.  

It didn't start.  

Found I had pinched and grounded a wire. I hung my head in shame.  

Called back in electricians -- fixed the wire and found a broken fuse.  Replace broken fuse.  

Started pump.  

All systems go.  

Turned on liquid nitrogen.  

I left the room.

I came back and the pumps were off.

"There was a pop! and a flash of light!"  

Pumps would not start.  

I checked fuse box -- found broken fuse and replaced it.  

Started pump.  

All systems go.

Pressures started rising.  

Turned off pumps.  

Did a leak check -- found two large leaks that have been there since I first started in the lab.  

Fixed the leaks.  

Started pump.

All systems go.  

Glorious, oh, glorious success.  

Running low on oil.  

Turned off pumps.  

Started pump.

All systems go.

Turned on liquid nitrogen.  

Did not leave the room. 

Heard a pop and a large spark fly across the room.

Turned off the pumps.

Went to turn on pump.

It didn't start.

I checked the fuse box -- found a broken fuse and replaced it.  

On our last fuse.  

Do we try again?  

Challenge Accepted

I think my lab thinks she's being hilarious.  Hilarious in the way that children think it's funny to run away from their parents in the mall and hide when said parent is exhausted and in a hurry to leave.

I guess in this analogy, I'm the parent and my lab is my child.  It might be an apt description - I do blame my lab for my grey hair and for taking the prime years of my life.

 Last week, a coupling failed.  This coupling was kind of a mess to begin with.  Some previous students had taken some rubber material and wrapped it around the two joining pipes and taped the seams with electrical tape and then threw a few metal clamps around the whole thing and called it good.  It baffles me that it didn't fail before.  It baffles me that it was sufficient to hold any portion of a vacuum.  But it held.

Thanks to this custom part, I had to go through two different couplings to find something that somewhat worked.  Even then, it wasn't perfect but I'm beyond the point of hoping for perfection.  While waiting for the parts, I opened up the coupling and cleaned out the system from oil and iodine.  As I struggled to squeeze myself in and out of that tight spot and maneuver around wires and piping and equipment, I was struck by the fact that this was something I had never opened up before.  As I cleaned and worked, I thought about my fingerprints which covered almost every inch of my lab and I marveled.

I smiled and told my colleague, "I think it's official: I have now fixed or maintained everything in this lab."  And then I knocked on wood just to be safe.

I think this is where my lab thought it would be extra hilarious to do something.  It was like she thought I was issuing a challenge.  Everything?! Just you wait.  I'll show you.

Today, I was planning on running my experiment.  I turned on my laser and started working through the laser few things I needed to do.  But there was a loud noise coming from the iodine pit so I went down to investigate the new leak in the pneumatic valve system (fittings spring leaks every few months there).  Except it wasn't a leak.  It was the regulator spouting mist all over the iodine pit.  I hung my head and went to go find the lab tech for some help in figuring out what was even going on.  

After opening it up and cleaning it out with no success, we decided the regulator was officially broken and needed to be replaced.

Hahaha, I get it.  A new something to break.  I spoke too soon.  Joke's on me.  Very funny, lab.  You're so clever.

But remember?  In the analogy, I'm the tired parent who really just wants to leave in peace.  This isn't really funny anymore, right?  Well, kids never seem to pick up on the "The joke is beyond old" sentiment.  And my lab doesn't seem to get the hint either.

Ok, lab.  Well, keep running around.  You may think you're running me down but I promise you're wearing yourself out.  Nap time is coming.

He who laughs last...

Lab Art

Here are some pictures of the equipment that hangs out behind my lab.  (i.e. the stuff outside my window)

Just from a different perspective.

Doesn't it all look impressive?   

Nostalgia

A decade of Julys:

Years in the Past |  Location | Occupation | interesting events

10 | Zhongli, Taiwan | Missionary | I experienced my first ghost month in Taiwan which included biking through the streets one evening with the air filled with smoke from burning incense and paper money.  Sparks even flew onto my clothes and burned little holes in the fabric, a constant reminder the rest of my mission about the experience.  
  9 | Neihu, Taiwan | Missionary | The water purifier in my apartment broke and I determined I would fix it myself so I spent my days planning appointments around stores where I could possibly pick up the parts I needed while my companion and I tried to ward off dehydration and heat exhaustion in the summer heat by buying our water or filling up every water bottle we owned at the church's water fountain.  One night's highlight was winning free water from our local 7-11.
  8 | Moon Apartment 7 and 12, Provo, UT | BYU Baseball Park Custodian | That summer, I experienced my first dating experiences since my mission, my first pretend summer romance and my first real heartbreak (er... three of them).  I learned the joy of photography and long bike rides in the mountains.
  7 | Moon House, Provo, UT | BYU Grounds Crew - Pruner | I spent eight hours a day learning about plants and how to take care of them while chatting with my newest friends and spent my evenings on walks worrying about graduate school and money.  I remember making a lot of bread and eating a lot of soup.
  6 | Montebello Apt, Charlottesville, VA | Graduate Student | I spent July in my first relationship which was a long distance one and required a lot of travel and planning and I served as ward activities chair so I remember feeling exhausted and busy all the time but I also felt very happy.
  5 | Montebello Apt, Charlottesville, VA | Graduate Student | The summer before I moved into the Shamrock house, a few of my roommates and I met up in Norfolk, VA for a very fun vacation that went exactly opposite of our plans.  I never did get to see the Great Dismal Swamp.
  4 | in the process of moving from the Shamrock House to the Bennington Place, Charlottesville, VA | I had just returned from Taiwan and so spent my time trying to catch up on the culture of Taiwan so I listened to a lot of Jay Chou, Wang Leehom, and of course, Mayday.
  3 | Bennington Place, Charlottesville, VA | Graduate Student | I think I spent this entire month moving people into and out of my ward and moving myself into a new apartment.  It was exhausting work.  I also spent that summer worrying a lot about my family and friends.  I paced the parking lot of my new apartment.
 2 | Mormon Row, Charlottesville, VA | Graduate Student | I spent the day with my sister and Baby and spent the evening with my roommates.  Even though it was wet, we went to watch fireworks and had a lot of fun.  I don't remember much from the rest of that month at all.
 1 | Sendai, Japan | A few days after the 4th holiday, I boarded a plane for Japan which ended up being more humid than I could imagine.  I spent my days acting as the intern and my evenings watching Japanese TV.  I tried teaching myself Japanese during this month and started running every day which I even started to admit was a "hobby" by the end of the summer.

My Favorite Machinist

Have I ever told you about Ed, our lab's machinist?  He's special.  And not the weird kind of special.  He's the kind of special that you won't ever forget.

Most days, when I walk into lab and walk through the machine shop, he's there working and I greet him with a smile, "Hello, Ed."  If I'm later than usual, he smiles and comments on it.  If I'm earlier than usual, he smiles and comments on it.  If I walk through the shop later, he throws out a comment about the weather or about how I'm covered in oil.  If I need his advice or his expertise, he's always helpful.  He lets me borrow the shaker bath or gives me bolts and screws, quickly machines anything I need and generally proves again and again to be one the best parts about my lab.

When I came back from Japan, there were rumors floating about how people were trying to force Ed into retirement and how they don't need machinists.  Everyone who loves Ed got really upset with those comments because we understand that great is the worth of an experienced machinist.  In fact, when I got to research conferences and tell people how small our models are and how delicate the internal plumbing, they all stare in shock at how skilled our machinist must be.  The best part is, because he's in house, we can take our rough hand sketched ideas and talk with him until we both figure out a way to make the part fit our needs with the best machining methods.  I can't say enough good things about Ed's workmanship.

Or his character.  He comes to work every morning at 6:30 am and leaves at 1:30 pm sharp.  Every Friday, he leaves Little Debbie snacks for the lab on the plate on the microwave.  And then he scatters sunflower seeds and birdseed for all the creatures outside.  Someone once teased me when I said how much I loved the snacks he left for us.

It's not that I think Little Debbie is the best food - in fact, it's probably not very good for me.  However, it reminds me of my Grandpa Reed who used to make cakes for us when we came to visit.  Even when he was old and really shouldn't be making things for us, he still did his best.  I always knew that one way my Grandpa showed me he loved me was making those desserts for me.  The Little Debbie snacks remind me of my Grandpa who I miss a lot.  Ed reminds me of my Grandpa.  I like to pretend the snacks are his way of making sure I'm eating ok, and happy in life, just like my grandpa.

It's always a big question though of how old Ed is.  The rest of the lab has spent several times debating and wondering how old he is, as well as how long he's been working here at UVa.  He's old and apparently, he retired several years ago but still manages to come in every day.

Yesterday, our lab manager found me, "Erin, I found an article on Ed that was published in a UVa magazine in 2000."

I was so excited.  I went and washed my hands of oil and dirt and read it carefully.  It was delightful to hear a little more about him - he was born and raised in England.  He makes elaborate doll houses for his friends and family.

I turned to show the article to my colleague and he immediately asked the question I should have been asking, "How old is he in the article."

"It says here, he was 71."
"That was 13 years ago."

"HE'S 84!"

84, and still coming to work everyday.  Yep, that's our Ed.  I told you he was special.

Small Elephants Sometimes Forget

My lab ran out of gloves last week.  That was expected - we were running through so many with pump repair, it was only a matter of time.

My lab partner and I found a pair of reusable rubber gloves in a bucket somewhere and started using those.  They quickly got covered in oil but as we worked with different chemicals to clean off pump parts, we had no choice but to pull them on again, rather than risk damage to our skin.  

The gloves are still usable but they are so dirty and greasy and oily that you can't do anything without leaving brown smudges on everything you touch.  And trying to use those gloves to clean something? 

Forget about it. 

So, today, I started trying to clean up the lab and get it organized for the continued pump repair.  I carefully wrote a list of things we needed: gloves, o-rings, a stainless steel plug for the vacuum chamber, shop cloths, and degreaser.  Then, I went up to my office to order the materials.  

As I typed in gloves, I suddenly remembered that there was an unopened box I had received over a week ago from a supplier.  I already knew it had bolts in it that we did not need any more so I just left it, under my desk.  

However, suddenly, looking up gloves on the online ordering page, I had a feeling of déjà vu.  Had I already ordered gloves?

I leaned down and retrieved the box and opened it.  Sure enough, I found the bolts but also two boxes of nitrile gloves.  

At that, I just wanted to put my head in my hands and just cringe at my forgetfulness these days.  But as you can see, my hands are too dirty.  

Dirty Elbows

For the past several weeks, it's been usual for me to return to my home on Friday, covered in oil from my shoulders down, and wearing soiled, smelly clothes that I would rather burn than wash.

Of course, after thoroughly scrubbing down my arms using dish detergent (best on oil), I shower and practically rub my skin raw using my nails and whatever else I can to scrub away the well-embedded dirt.  As it is, I walk around the rest of the weekend with slight marks all over my arms that look like fading bruises.

This has become so common that on Saturday, while eating my lunch, I noticed my knee looked bruised.  Then I touched it and it hurt.  "Wow, this oil spot looks like a bruise and feels like a bruise."  After a second, I realized that it was, in fact, a bruise.

Usually by Monday mornings, though, I'm perfectly clean once again.

Just in time to get dirty again.

After about 30 seconds of work on my pump, I'm already pretty dirty

Here is the view from my window now that the bars are gone.  Isn't it so nice?  Please kindly ignore the pressurized tanks and notice the GREEN.

Yes, We Are Engineers

About an hour after the two holes that were to compose our great plan to fix the vacuum pumps were completed, I managed to squeeze myself in between two walls and get myself not only covered in oil (becoming a regular thing now) but my entire front covered in grime.

This has been my day and the kinds of conversations we've had.

Tech: It's kind of like a torture chamber.  There is no possible way to be comfortable in this tiny space.

Ed: Let me see your hands!
Me: <shows him my hands, palms up>  <I felt like a child getting inspected before receiving the ok to eat dinner>
Ed: Oh!  They're clean.
Me: Yep!  I washed them really well <thinking to myself> It's a good thing you didn't see the backs of my hands (which were not so clean)

Tech: We'll get this thing fixed up, so bob's your uncle.
Lab Partner: Bob's your uncle?
T: Yeah, it's a phrase.  Haven't you heard it before?
LP: No.
Me: Yes, I have.
T: She's heard of it.  It must be Japanese.
LP: What is that other reference to Uncle, you know with the wars?
Me and T: ??
LP: Oh yeah, Uncle Tom.
T: ??
Me: ??
LP: You know, Uncle Tom wants YOU to serve in the Army.
T: Oh, you mean Uncle SAM.  Haha, I was wondering what war you were talking about.
Me: I just assumed it was some reference to the Vietnam war.  Like GI Joe, except it's Uncle Tom.
LP: I think I was thinking about that book: Uncle Tom's Cabinet.
Me: Hahaha, Cabin, NOT Cabinet.
LP: Close enough.
T: No, I don't think Uncle Tom ever served as President.
Me: And now we know why you are in Aerospace Engineering.
T: You'd never make it as a historian...or a linguist.

Rocket Science

Sometimes, I look at my job and just marvel.  How many other people have jobs like this?

Here's the setup:
My arms are covered in oil from my shoulders down.  My lab partner has a paper towel to his head to help stop the bleeding after bumping into the sharp edge from our lab.  We're discussing our professor's recent suggestion to getting access to the broken vacuum pump: demolish the wall.

Here's the conversation:
Lab person: We're going to be running a few tests on our shock tube.  We just wanted to warn you.  You'll hear two short beeps and then a long beep and then a boom.
Me: A boom?
Lab person: Yes, we would appreciate if you could rate the boom on a scale from 1 to 10.
Me: Does it matter where we are?
Lab person: Anywhere is fine.
Lab partner: Erin, you stay here.  I'm going up to our office then which is closer to the test.
Me: You have a bleeding head! Are you sure this is safe?
Lab partner: Anything for science.

Result:
Me sitting in our lab alone waiting for the beeps and the boom, and anticipating the worst.


(Don't worry - the boom was less scary than the waiting for the boom.  My lab partner rated the boom as a 2 from the office.  I rated it as a 1 from the lab.)

Peace, Be Still

Did you know that the antithesis of peace as I've studied it in the scriptures is disorder?  It's not war.  It's not discord.  It's chaos.

I'm having another one of those days.  The type of day when you turn on your pumps and it makes a weird noise and somehow that leads to setting off the fire alarms and then having to explain everything to your lab's director and then again to the police department and to the fire department and to the university's facilities management.  (I wish I was making this up)

My life is in chaos.  I'm trying my best to keep it together but with every new thing that goes wrong in my lab, I feel like I'm grasping at straws.  I'm running out of time.  My lab is running out of money.  I'm running out of things I can fix (but not, apparently, running out of things that can break).  I'm so close (or so everyone tells me) and yet the fight is just getting harder.

I was given some advice the other day from my friend.  She said, "Have you ever tried to stop asking questions, stop trying to work things out and just sit?  Just take some time to be with God and just be still?"

I looked at my friend in surprise.  Sit still?  Do nothing?  While my life stumbles along on a crash course to who knows what?

Well, after what happened today, I'm mad enough to want to go kick something really hard.  I'm frustrated enough that I want to go to a dark corner and cry for days.  I'm crazy enough that I might just give what my friend suggested a try.

So, I'm off to the woods where crying, kicking acorns and rocks or simply just sitting can't hurt anything but certainly might help.

Change in Perspective

There are men in my lab this week de-lead-ing our windows.  They haven't interfered with any place I spend my time so it's always still a surprise to walk down the hall and spot a man completely covered in a white protection suit.

This morning, in anticipation of the de-lead-ers hitting our office, my officemate and I wondered if they could bother to take off the bars on our windows in the process since it's not really safe to be situated between compressed air tanks and a combustion wind tunnel.

Then my office mate turned to me, "Why don't we take them off ourselves?"

I looked at him.  "I wanted to do this a long time ago.  But I wasn't strong enough."

He sent me downstairs with orders to find the largest screwdriver I could.  I returned with one that was two feet long and although a smile played on my lips at the ridiculousness of the question, "Is this one big enough?" I knew that it was possible he would send me back downstairs for a larger one.

After all the screws and bolt were out, it just took me jumping onto my desk and tugging on the bars a little before the entire thing came free.  My labmate picked it up and laughed.  "Do you want to mount this somewhere as a prize?"

I laughed at him, "Oh, you mean, like it was mounted on our windows for the past 30 years?"

He shrugged.  "Well, what else can we do with such a bulky piece?  I don't want it just lying around our lab."

I nodded, "Yep, it's called 'put it in the trash.'"

He seemed uncertain about my response.  "Won't they get mad at us for throwing it away without asking first?"

"What?!  No."

"Plus," my labmate reasoned.  "If they ask us to put them back, we can just tell them it's too late because we already threw it all away."

"Exactly!"

So my labmate carried the thing down our spiral staircase and we dumped it in our dumpster.

Suddenly, the fact that I stayed up all night to run an unsuccessful experiment doesn't seem like such a bad thing.  I'm pretty sure that taking away those bars just changed my life.

Asleep on the Job

Dear Youtube,

At first I was confused when my watching a Makoto Hasebe commercial for en-japan prompted you to recommend a Taylor Swift music video.  Was there a connection between Taylor and Hasebe that I was missing?  Did Makoto Hasebe secretly listen to Taylor Swift?  Did Taylor Swift like Japan?  But then I noticed the rest of the page was recommendations of Taylor Swift from videos that had no connection to each other or to Taylor Swift.  

Also, why do you feel the need to recommend videos that I've already watched? 

It makes me feel like you don't pay attention to my watch history at all.  (Frankly, I'm ok with that.)     

Love,

Me

Dear Bayern,

The only time I cheer for you is when you play Europe.  During, yesterday's game, I was on pins and needles hoping for great plays from Mandzukic and great saves from Neuer.  Then, sometime, much later, I remembered I never watched the matchcast to the end of the game.  I had jumped up to check on my laser sheet and then on the laser chiller and the nitrogen outside and my iodine levels.  I completely forgot about you.  

Sorry about that - it seems my priorities are exactly where they should be.  Welcome to the Elite Eight in the ECL.  

Love,

Me

Dear Mr. Bear's owner,

You are amazing.  Thank you for teaching me about what it means to be friendly and kind.  Good luck on your PhD.  And good luck to your Indiana Jones husband.  

Love,

Me

Dear Charlottesville,

You may send snow my way next week.  But I'm not convinced it's still winter.  Everything is on the verge of bursting into life.  I am so excited.

Love,
Me

Cryptic Messages

Dear Hasebe-san,

I feel like Olive from Ella Enchanted (the book, NOT the movie): "You o me 6 KJs.  I danced with the prince to times while you were eeting.  Pa me."  Substitute a few word changes where appropriate but the sentiment is the same.  Seriously, kid, please write on your blog.  

Love,
Me


Dear Self,

Lately, you're like Sophie when she invented that really amazing weed killer.  Something's gotta change.

Love,
Me


Dear Weather,

Tuesday, I drowned.  Yesterday, I was comfortable.  Today, I'm freezing.  It's not March yet.  But is it spring?

Love,
Me


Dear World of Kpop,

"In related news, popcorn prices have increased by over 9000 percent."

Love,
Me


Dear Pump,

I'd like to know what you do with all that water I gave you.  Where does it all go?  It's a closed loop and there are no known leaks.  I live in perpetual fear that I will break you but frankly, you're getting a bit greedy, don't you think?

Love,
Me 


Dear Downton Abbey,

I don't know who died and outraged the world in season 3.  However, since I know it happens, I'm less inclined to love you wholeheartedly in seasons 1  and 2.  I can see you for what you are, oh manipulative one.  One can only pray real life is kinder than your writers.  Otherwise, we'll all suffer from emotional whiplash.

Love,
Me

Here are some recent random pictures I've taken.  I really love the tree.  Its gaping scars...

The Great Beyond

Today, I finally got to see a space shuttle in person.

I was giddy.  We took our little caravan of strollers and children and people and walked into the museum.  As soon as I walked in, I immediately looked over to the shuttle.  I walked right past the SR-71 which normally stops me in my tracks.  I didn't even glance at the Oblique Wing test craft.  I just pushed my niece in her stroller towards the back hangar, whether she really wanted to be separated from her mother or not.

In awe, I crouched down next to her stroller.

Me: Look, Baby.  This is the space shuttle!
Baby: It's a ship!
Me: Yep, it is a ship.  It's a big ship that they take into space.
Baby: What is the space?
Me: You know, at night, when you look up and you can see the stars?  That's space.
Baby: Like the astronauts?
Me: ?!! Um, yes, exactly.  When did you learn about astronauts?

So, then, I'm staring at my niece in shock.  For a two-year old, that is some amazing word connection.  However, that awe directed her way was short-lived.  She next glanced over and saw the stairs and spent the rest of her time in the museum more interested in the stairs and finding an elevator than in anything else.

Typical niece.

However, I wasn't too shocked by it and my sisters let me wander around the shuttle to my heart's content, admiring the TPS and the heat marks on the tiles, the RCS jet system and the sheer magnitude of the vehicle that served as the premier space vehicle for the first 30 years of my life.

As you might be able to guess, it was a red-letter day.

Don't Quit Your Day Job

When I was in Japan, I fell in love with the Pilot FriXion pen.  It's a great pen, with a nice ink that writes easily and clearly and is even erasable.

I loved this pen so much that...
(1) I bought several packs of them before I left Japan.
(2) I gave them as a gift for my labmate as his souvenir
(3) When I attended a Tech fair and could choose between a number of cheap gifts, I chose this pen over the free computer keyboard they were handing out.  Ponta was shocked, "You want that pen when you could have a free keyboard?"  I smiled back.  "Yes!  Besides, what would I do with a Japanese keyboard?  I don't need any more luggage to haul back to the US."

I had no idea if they sold them in the US but I wasn't taking any chances.

Turns out they do sell them here but the Japanese design is better (of course it is).  However, I also found out from my internet searching that the pen uses a new type of ink technology that fades with friction. 

The moment I gave one of the US versions of the pens to my labmate and told him about the ink technology, he started laughing, "Oh man, now I just want to see what will happen if we put a heat gun to this."

We work in a lab that happen to have heat guns so we sprinted downstairs to try it out.  It's true!  Disappearing ink!

It's like an awesome spy gadget.  

Except, you can still see what you wrote, even after it's disappeared.

    And what spy carries a heat gun around them to destroy the evidence?

           Wouldn't burning the evidence be just as effective?


Yeah, so no worries about spies trying to buy out all my pens.

Now, I just have to remember not to leave anything I've written out in the summer heat...ever.

Now you see it.  

Now you don't. 

 Except, you can still kind of see it.  (It's much more clear in person)

Tomorrow

After days of learning a lot about wiring and breakers, I found the problem behind our other broken pump.  I had flipped a switch in another lab. 

Days of climbing up and down ladders, opening up hatches and breakers, and following every bit of wiring to find that I had simply left a switch on. 

Such is life.

Pretending

Last week, my pump broke.  As you know.  But as it turned out, two pumps broke that day.

Since the pump was broken, as our lab tech and I were pulling out the broken laser-cooling pump to prepare it to be shipped back, we asked a colleague to turn off pit pump for us.

"Sure,"  He went over and flipped the switch.

"Uh... That didn't work."  I called up to him.  "The pump is still running!"

He called back down, "I've switched it 'on' and 'off' several times now.  Nothing's working?"
"Nope."

Hmm, the switch must have failed.  We went off in search of the pump's breaker.

My colleague found it and flipped the breaker open.  The pump stopped.

And then the alarm went off.
"What?!  We have an alarm on this pump?"  My colleague and I scratched our heads for a second, but then, the noise annoyed us so much that we went and flipped the breaker open.

We continued to take the broken pump out and shipped it off.

The next day, someone came looking for me.  "The pit pump is still running.  Is there a reason for that?"
"Yeah, we can't turn it off."

This week, my task has been to figure out how to turn off the pit pump.  And it's turned into a bigger headache than expected.  For one, the switch isn't broken.  We tested it, several times.  Secondly, the wires go down into this very long complicated series of conduits and boxes and other breakers.  Of course, none of this is labeled.  Third, I generally have no idea what I'm doing.

Today, I walked into the lab tech's office to give a report, "So, I went and pulled the fuses from the wires we were looking at.  I then tested the two wires up above and the circuit was open.  I flipped the breakers closed and nothing turned on.  So the short is happening on the switch end side of the circuit."

The lab tech nodded and another colleague stared at me in amazement.  "Wow, you sound like you know what you're talking about."

Seventh year of my PhD and what am I doing?

Learning the hard way about what it's like to be an electrician.  Alternate career path?

Maybe so.

Lousy Tuesday

Dear Lab,

"Nothing can stop me from running tomorrow," I said.  I should have known better than to tempt you like that.  You like nothing better than to prove me wrong.  Just ignore the fact that I've replaced/repaired/cleaned/maintained every possible thing that I can.  Ignore the fact that I've given you almost seven years of my life.  Go ahead and break that new pump of yours.  Go right ahead.  It's not like I want to get data and graduate or anything.  

Not Love,

Me

New Smells

Apparently the word for news in Chinese - 新聞 (xinwen) means 'new smell'.  This baffles me since the character for smell is an ear at a door.  Wouldn't that indicate 'hear'? Or at least 'eavesdrop'? 

But this post is not about my confusion of the Chinese language - rather it is about the News.

Since English class starts up again next week, I thought it would be time to venture back into the world beyond my lab.  Here are the things that caught my eye:


Should we let steroid users into the Baseball Hall of Fame?  Is there a moral line to draw when we've let in blatant racists, drug users, and sex addict?  (NYTimes Sports) Apparently, yes, there is a distinction between being immoral professionally and being immoral personally. 

Does religion have a negative impact on the lives of children?  (NYTimes Room for Debate) Interesting, short read but I'm not convinced to raise my children without religion.  

'Vandal' who defaced Picasso's painting in a Houston museum turned himself in.  (BBC News) Why the quote around the word vandal?  The man who defaced the painting claims it was a political move.

Which led me to the story of a man who defaced a Rothko painting in Europe.  (BBC News) 'Yellowism' is an interesting motive for vandalizing a painting.  What the heck is 'yellowism' anyway?  ('Yellowism' "defined") Is anyone as confused as I am?  It seems we reduce all paintings deemed worthy of 'yellowist' to simply being 'yellow' and nothing more.

Does listening to classical music make our kids smarter?  (BBC Future) Nope.  Apparently your origami skills are improved by listening to anything that you enjoy and it's effect only lasts 15 minutes.

Girl Trafficking in India (BBC News) Yes, it's as tragic and sad as it sounds.  And it's only a small portion of the problem with an obvious gap in gender birth rates.

The latest in Google and China's interesting relationship (BBC News) Google has stopped putting up nice warnings to users noting them that they are looking up censored words.  Apparently, it's just a big headache because China changes censorship all the time (no kidding!).  Google now just transfers all mainland searches to its Hong Kong sites.


In other news, my pump now works!  I was worried that I broke it yesterday when we hooked up the wires incorrectly and blew the system out.  And then I was worried that I broke it when I was putting it back together and the metal casing sparked and shut it down.  Now that I think about, I should probably have counted my blessings that I didn't electrocute myself in the process.  But my concern was only for my pump.