Damn you, Mr. Rogers.

Just ran my first ever 10K this morning. I felt like I experienced every emotion known to man today. Forget about bipolar, I felt at least 7polar. Septapolar? But I digress. It is really strange what physical labor will do to your mind. I went back and forth between "I think I might F-ing finish this thing!" almost immediately to "I'm never going to F-ing finish this thing." Then I'm trying to decide which brain centers and which neurotransmitters are responsible for each of these thoughts. If only I could make an antagonist for the bad thought molecule. You can take the girl out of the neurolab...

So, onto the damning of Mr. Rogers, which I'm sure is the only reason anyone would read this. Yep, I've resorted to hook titles because nobody's going to read a blog entitled "my psychotic emotions." Apparently, FOX news has recently aired a piece (I choose "piece" because you can decide yourselves what it is a piece of later) about Mr. Rogers and why he is responsible for everything wrong with our generation. He told us all that we were special, which gave us enough of a sense of entitlement to argue for A's when we haven't done work, or expect jobs to fall into our hands. Really? I could see calling him creepy for wanting to play with puppets and little children all day, but blaming him for anything beyond your run-of-the-mill creepy factor just seems unfair. How about we blame the parents that ignore their responsibilities in the lives of their children? Sheesh. Maybe Mr. Rogers is to blame for my "I'll never finish" thoughts. He is the bad neurotransmitter!

Another thing: how the hell is it possible that I'm putting every ounce of energy into catch up with a 75-year old woman and an obese man/woman (I couldn't tell, sorry)? Nothing will change happy thoughts to murderous thoughts faster than being practically out-lapped by the sick, the elderly, and the obese. (Kind of sounds like a bitter version of what is written under the statue of liberty...) Seriously, self-esteem is not heightened by thoughts like "my only chance for keeping up is a stroke or heart attack." Bad person, Melinda Anne, bad.

But, after all was said and done, I pulled it off. I even "by-passed" Mr/Mrs heart-attack waiting to happen. Yep, cheap pun and I don't care. You love it!

And now off to shower before my husband leaves me.

27.5: it's a good age to gain some confidence!

For those that know me, it would be safe to say that I have a healthy dose of self-confidence. After some hard times during college, I think I bounced back and learned to really love myself. As they say, to love somebody is not to think they have no faults, but to love them for their faults, too. This is what I did: I decided that all the things wrong with me are a part of me, and I could still like myself, even if I wasn't perfect. So, I learned to love me. And I'll tell you, life gets much better when you can do this.
Despite all this love, there has been an area in the last several years in which I have had completely NO confidence: Science. Surprised? Usually one doesn't go for a PhD when she thinks little of herself as a scientist. But only so many experiments can fail before you begin to take it personally. It's like hearing "it's not you, it's me" for, like, 8 break-ups in a row. Sure, science often fails, but seriously, all the freaking time?
A true low point hit at the beginning of last year. As you know, funding was scarce in my previous laboratory. I was hardly able to order any equipment or experimental supplies. Anything I did seemed to fail, anyway. I considered dropping out of the program and beginning a nursing program at U of A. Starting over in a new lab seemed tiring and overwhelming. Then I spoke to a professor here who, upon hearing my dilemna, said " well, you'd be welcome to join my lab." I couldn't imagine anyone actually wanting me around. My first thought was does he realize I'm a scientific loser? But he believed in me and liked me. That was the beginning of a new chapter for me. I figured that if somebody else thought I was worth something, then perhaps I should starting thinking that way too.
I joined Dr. Naomi Rance's lab a year ago, today. The very first week I was there, she and a couple of members of the lab were having a discussion about an experiment. Naomi turned to me and said "What do you think, Melinda?" I was floored. Me? You want my opinion? Why? I had just gotten there, and this MD PhD wanted me to weigh in. This was the first of many events that started me on an upward path. Over the months, Naomi has expressed how happy she is to have me in the lab. This has completely turned my grad school experience around. When people hear about what happened to me during my 3rd year of the program, they're horrified and feel so bad for me. I have to explain to them that it was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I have worked like a dog since last April, and now, surprisingly, things are starting to work. My "reverse Midas touch," as I called it, seems to be going away. My confidence as a scientist is growing; I actually feel like I bring something to the table now. This has never been the case for me.
Today is Sunday. I got here at 8am today. I came in yesterday, too. This is what happens when you tell somebody they can do it and you believe in them: they will work harder for you and harder for themselves.
So I want to thank my advisor, Naomi, who has given me more than just a lab to work in, but the confidence to work hard and believe in myself.
Go neuroscience!

Overmedicinization?

Is it just me, or is the pharmaceutical industry going insane?? I am (supposed to be) studying for a midterm for a clinical pharmacology class. I just checked my email and, no surprise here, had 3 spam emails for penis-related drugs. Forget about the fact that my penis works just fine, these emails are really getting desperate. They used to just come right out and say "make your penis larger" or "cheap viagra." Then (and I'm guessing they were getting clever to avoid spam targeted at key words), these companies started sending emails with words like "V1@Gr@" or "Pen1$." Well, let me tell you, my computer may be fooled, but I am not! Today, the spam I got inspired me to write this. While there used to be attempts at getting sneakier to circumnavigate (I'm aware of the unfortunate coincidence of this prefix) spam filters, they seemed to have abandoned ship and pride. "Cheap Boner Pills." Wow, really? Is this what we've become?
A second side effect (again, forgive the unintentional pun) of taking this pharmacology class is that it makes me pay attention to all the commercials flooding primetime with promises of anti-anxiety and getting rid of restless leg syndrome forever. If I understand it properly, these commercials must disclose side-effects if they wish to say what the product treats.
"Have anxiety? Don't like making friends or going outside? Look like a wind-up doll or the rolling cartoon ball from a Shell Silverstein book? Ask your doctor about flutrosamantasinopril (or some other word you'd expect out of the mouths of prawns from District 9). All your prayers will be answered, assuming those prayers include: dry-mouth, increased risk for breast, prostate, liver, and colon cancer, stroke, and anal leakage." Thanks, now that my ass is leaking, maybe I'll have the confidence to go out of the house and make those friends I never had! And while I'm at it, give me a dose of those cheap boner pills, so when people make fun of me for butt-leaks, I can smack them with my enhanced pen1$.
Really, there seems to be an expensive treatment for nearly everything. Have we digressed so much that we can't tough it out anymore? I heard a commercial on the radio awhile ago addressed at women, saying that if you are not interested in sex at the end of the day, you may have HDD: Hyposexual Desire Disorder. Seriously? Are they going to make women who have worked or parented all day feel bad for not wanting to have sex? Is everything a disorder now? What happened to self-medicating? There should be a commercial making fun of this over-medicalization phenomenon: "Tired after a long day? Wish you were better in bed or had more friends? Suck it up and get out of the house. Go drink a couple of beers at a bar: you'll be instantly more personable and friendly. Side-effects may include a good time. Freaking A.

The Conspiracy Theorist Who Hijacked My Mind

I went home for a quick weekend with the family. At the airport, I bought a book, ate a bit of food and boarded the plane. I was pretty excited to read this book, as the back cover had sufficiently intrigued me. I was getting all set up in my seat on board, when a middle-aged man sat next to me. We began chatting and he seemed interesting and intelligent. I don't mind talking to strangers on planes. It often makes the time seem to pass faster. He was an aerospace engineer, which instantly gave him some credibility, in my mind. As we speed up for take-off, he begins to explain to me how the 40 seconds from speed up to a certain height in the air are the most dangerous on a flight. Nevermind his TERRIBLE timing on that one; the worst was yet to come. I thought I'd pass on the incredible wealth of information I was forced to learn on this 1.5 hour flight. I didn't get to read my book, which made me sad. Instead, I listened to this:

1. Obama is not a natural citizen of the United States of America. This is particularly frightening to me, considering that being a natural citizen sure helped Bush be a great president.
2. George W. Bush has a large ranch in Paraguay, where Nazi doctors escaped post WWII, because it does not extradite criminals.
3. 9/11 was an inside job. The evidence that Bush knew about it? When he was told, while reading to kindergarteners, he awkwardly continued reading. ...Because Bush acting awkward means anything.
4. The government is currently working it's mints overtime to print out all the extra money we'll need to get us out of this recession. (Didn't we already try that in the Great Depression??)
5. NY city and Miami just purchased millions of video cameras from China. "What else would they be used for if not to watch us?"
6. Illegal Aliens are taking over America
7. America wants Mexico to make Meth strawberry flavored so that it will appeal to small children.
8. The news media is 100% controlled and censored by the US government, so it cannot be trusted. (And yet sources of all this information are completely valid...)
9. My personal favorite: When Hitler was coming into power, Germany was in a recession and he preached "hope" and "change" just like Obama. I guess we'll all wait and see whether the half African American president is all for ethnic cleansing.

If you find this blog particularly painful, just imagine an hour and a half of this! Never have I been happier to come home to an oh-so-sane Aaron :)

Italians are weird.

Just thinking about Italians and how weird they are. Words that you think are perfectly innocent can be confused as naughty body parts and words you KNOW mean naughty body parts are sometimes perfectly innocent. Allow me to explain.
Penne is a delicious pasta, named so because it is a small tube cut on the diagonal, resembling a fountain pen. Pene, on the other hand, is a penis (no explanation needed here). Note the subtle difference in spelling. Note the even subtler difference in pronunciation (you'll just have to trust me on this one). You can see where this might cause quite a stir, especially because one of my favorite dishes to order in Italy was a big steaming plate of PeNNe.
Then there is the word culo. Now most of you already know this one, as we are close to our friends south of the border and the word is exactly the same in Spanish. This word is not OK to use in general conversation and is considered very uncouth. However, interestingly enough, you can say this word in front of your 90-year old Italian grandma if you just use it properly. Apparantly, having 'culo' means having good fortune or luck. For example, if this grandma were to explain to you that she still has all of her real teeth, you would almost be obligated to tell her she has culo. And no one would look at you like the uneducated idiot foreigner that you were. This kind of thing would never fly here in America, especially considering the fact that most of us here in this great nation are obese. So, telling your grandma "she got ass" would not only be incredibly rude, but it could also ring true, making it even ruder.

We here in America keep our butts away from our fortune, and our male genitalia far from our food, both in physical location and in pronunciation. I for one have always used 'hot dog' as the prefered nomenclature, as 'weiner' would clearly violate this rule. I guess we're just not as obsessed with the penis. Another example of penile inclination in Italy... the word 'cazzo.' This is equivalent to 'dick' in English. However, the usage makes it much more translatable to 'f*ck." For example, "cazzo, I dropped my book on my toe." I, being the uneducated idiot foreigner would much more likely say: "cazzo, I just ordered pene."

On a slightly more serious note...

Ok, so a few days ago I posted one of those facebook notes in which I had to write 25 random facts about myself. One of them was "when I see a handicapped person, I feel guilt." Yes, I also feel extremely fortunate, but overwhelming guilt is the prominent emotion. This morning as I biked to work, I saw a man biking using only one leg. The other leg (his right) was hanging next to the pedal. I watched as he worked to return the left pedal to the upright position using his left foot, then press down on it, pulling his entire weight. I rode past, feeling knots in my stomach. I think of how many things are simple for me to do: climb stairs, run around, bike. This man struggles to do any of these. I didn't post this to depress anyone, but keep in mind how good you have it, even when work sucks, relationships are problematic, or your alarm clock didn't wake you up on time. Don't be annoyed by the fat on your thighs, be grateful that you have them.

The Thank You Wave is Back

So I was thinking last night about the thank-you-wave. Not too many people still do it, but there are some chivalrous individuals holding on to it like a balding man holds on to those few measly strands 5 inches longer than the rest of his peripheral hair, brushing them over proudly as if he is fooling us all into thinking he actually has a full head of hair. But back to the thank-you-wave. There is really no reason it should be confined to cars. I am going to implement the thank you wave into the milieu of accepted gestures outside of the vehicle. After all, there are already several ubiquitous signs that really get the message across. Take the flip-off. Now that's a gesture that had its start outside the realm of cars but made its way in.

Today if someone tells me they like my shirt or compliments my hair (which would never happen as I somehow managed to sleep on it such that most of it lies in the plane perpendicular to my head), I am going to walk right past them; and without looking back I'll just hold up my right hand. Booyah, chivalry's back beeotches.