Rikki Lake

This Phillipa whats-her-name story has got me to thinking. I've thought about much of this before, and now I think I would like to soliliquize it with you (I think soliloquy means having an imaginary conversation in front of the audience in order to explain stuff, its a theatrical device). Some Hamilton woman has become the frontperson, the spokesman for the industry in this scandal, and she has acknowledged the rotten conditions that exist in fashion and other visual media in the US that created this situation. What she has little done, is use any pronouns of ownership. Everything was explained in the passive voice: this happened, that happened; no 'we did this', 'so and so made this decision'. She has been chided severely for this. In some ways, though, I happen to agree with her, or understand her lack of blame. Its hard to tell the real reason for this obsession with female frailty. It is unfortunately not limited to just these media, every woman I know has a horrible body image. I know two young ladies who weigh 100 lbs or less and still think they are terribly unattractive. I know other average sized women (myself included) who look in the mirror and see obesity. I know some big beautiful women (I hate that expression too, but they are!) who hate themselves as well. It runs the entire range, so it can't actually be based on appearance. It is often not just a passing dissatisfaction, either. I know when I am a few pounds heavier than I'd like (which happens every few years or so, in cycles) I am preoccupied with it, obsessed even. I can think of several months last year when I can honestly say I thought about it all the time. Every one that looked at me, I just knew they were looking at my fat stomach. So what I'm getting at is, the situation is terrible, dire even.

So what, then, shall we say is the cause?

The first answer is usually men. Its easy and obvious and a tempting conclusion to jump to. As in so many other cases, though, I think men are being blamed needlessly (don't worry, I still think some things are their fault). As a rule, I believe that men are far less picky about our bodies than we think. It's not that they don't have standards, or are simply pigs who'll take it wherever they can get it, far from it. I think that men think a far broader range of sizes and shapes are beautiful, and that variety is the spice of life. In fact, most of the men I know prefer that women have more meat on their bones rather than less. I mean, who really wants to have sex with a tree? Cushion for the pushing indeed. I do know a few men who enjoy their women when they look like strippers, porn stars, and retail sales girls, but they tend to be superficial in general and aren't men I care to have looking at me anyway.

I think it is closer to the truth that the pressure to look a certain way that this American Life considers ideal comes much more from other women. Go into any room and try and find one man who could tell you what this season's Dooney and Bourke looks like, I challenge you. Yet I, who would never aspire to own one, and in fact think most of them are ugly (the new Coaches too, but that's not important) could still pick one out at 50 paces and probably even identify a knock-off. I think for the most part, we dress for each other. But I don't think that is root of the problem either.

Now, I don't mean to deny or ignore the obesity problem. It is an epidemic and could be so easily remedied. I also don't completely blame the evolution of body ideals. I know that it is often cited that Marylin Monroe was a size 10, and that much bigger ideals were prized in earlier times, this century even. Women were also trained to sit behind a desk, or at home, or other sedentary places. A more athletic build represents to me a more active and independent woman and I think it is a step forward. However, most of the women to which I am referring are not in these categories and generally don't have these  sorts of exercise, over eating or diet/nutritional problems.

I know where my problem came from. I remember always thinking as a young girl that I was just a little bit fat. I remember this feeling was always reinforced by my mothers (yes I have two, no they're not lesbians). They never let a chance pass to inform me when they thought I didn't look ideal. It ranged from remarks about how much smaller my stomach was when I was on swim team, to dragging me to jazzercise, to less overt things like encouraging me whenever I mentioned my new diet techniques. Now, I never developed a true eating disorder, but many of my friends did. I remember a classmate who had a perfectly lovely, tiny teenage figure who would measure her waste every morning. To this day I still lift my shirt, turn to the side, and suck in my stomach almost every time I'm alone in front of a mirror. Entire generations of women, as young even as me and younger, who's mothers were ERA, bra burning feminists, have still managed to instill in us a need to always strive for thin and perfect. Not only was this behavior reinforced by my (and I'm sure their's) mothers, I never once remember them telling me I was beautiful. That I had a beautiful body. That I was special, or lovely, or unique, or any of the things that I make sure to tell all the young ladies in my life. Starting at a very young age I tell them how beautiful they are, and not to let anyone tell them any different. And they are! Now, I know I am biased, but statistically it would be unlikely that all the young ladies I know are as beautiful as I think they are. Unless we adopt a new vision of beauty. I know its cheezy, but I really love that song by Christina Aguilera "beautiful" because it sums up my opinion about beauty. Not just that we should pretend that everyone is beautiful just to be nice, but that everyone IS beautiful and if we believe it, it will become real for us and we will see it (all my neices do look like they fell off a cloud, though. I'm not gonna lie to ya).

Identifying the source of the problem still doesn't say how we are going to solve it. There are more plus sized models, more bbw advocates, and more legal policies to support a womans right to be big. But the regular models just keep getting thinner, almost like a pendulum effect. I know i can vote with my dollar on this one, but I absolutely don't know how. Should I boycott Ralph Lauren? Done, I haven't bought Ralph Lauren in years. Abercrombie and Fitch, Calvin Klein, Bebe, BCBG, the GAP? All done. The last pair of jeans I bought came from Fred Meyer, and Walmart before that. I was thinking I would have a good parting thought, a solution, an opinion (they are like assholes afterall), but I really am at a loss. How do we change this?

Amber is the color of her energy (puke)

So lots of girls have songs with their name in it:

Rosanna, Amy, Sara, Angie, you get the idea.

For a while I thought the only song with my name in it was that lame 311 song i used in the title of this blog.

So i decided to look into it further and the results were a bit sad. I found a few more songs. Theres this really disturbing one by a band i never heard of: The Quinns

well she has all day
but she takes all night
and she has her way
when we have fights
she won't stop
even if the tears are streaming down
and when she's angry enough
well she'll call the whole g*ddamn town

so i said amber calls me
calls me on the telephone
and she spends all night
tellin' me how she's alone

so she calls me up
(hey when'd she call you man?)
oh, it was about half-passed nine
(was it really that late? what happened?)
so i asked her out
(hey man what'd she say? what'd she say?)
oh-but I got denied!
(oh shit!)
yeah she'll call back and tell me
tell me all about her day
it's like she's sleep-talkin'
cause i can't understand a single word she say

so i said amber calls me
calls me on the telephone
and she spends all night
tellin' me how she's alone

i tell you she's a beast
no she won't let me sleep
the ideas come out
no secrets she will keep
she goes on and on about the dumbest things i've ever heard
and once again it's like she's sleep-talkin'
cause i can't understand a single word
sleepless morning, can't stop yawning
can't she please let me rest

so we make our way to the beach
bottles of rum sitting in the back seat
to there's a spot that we was last week
no time for talking so baby don't speak
and she gets wet when we find the water
when we boat with you we find your daughter
there's rum right 'round your head
while we bangin' doggy 'gainst the bed

she won't stop
even if the tears are streaming down
and when she's angry enough
well she'll call the whole g*ddamn town

so i said amber calls me
calls me on the telephone
and she spends all night
tellin' me how she's alone

(alright) i said amber calls me
calls me on the telephone
and she spends all night
tellin' me how she's alone

(I said)

amber calls me
amber calls me
amber calls me
amber calls me
amber calls me
amber calls me
amber calls me

So there's that. Its really not a very nice song.

I had high hopes for this one by Metallica:

Get in bed with your own kind
Live your life so you don't see mine
Drape your back so you won't shine

Ooh then she holds my hand
And I lie to get a smile

Using what I want
To get what you want

Ooh sweet amber
How sweet are you?
How sweet does it get?

Chase the rabbit, fetch the stick
She rolls me over 'till I'm sick
She deals in habits, deals in pain
I run away, but I'm back again

Ooh then she holds my hand
And I lie to get a smile
And she squeezes tighter
I still lie to get a smile

She holds the pen that spells the end
She traces me and draws me in

I think this one is about drugs.

So there you have it. The only love song with my name in it is a lame one by 311:

BRAINSTORM
Take me away from the norm
I've got to tell you something..
This phenomenon
I had to put it in a song,
and it goes like:

Whoa
Amber is the color of your energy
Whoa
Shades of gold displayed naturally

You ought to know what brings me here
You glide through my head blind to fear,
and I know why-

Whoa
Amber is the color of your energy
Whoa
Shades of gold displayed naturally

Whoa
Amber is the color of your energy
Whoa
Shades of gold displayed naturally

You live too far away
Your voice rings like a bell anyway
Don't give up your independence
unless it feels so right
Nothing good comes easily;
Sometimes you've got to fight

Whoa
Amber is the color of your energy
Whoa
Shades of gold displayed naturally

Launched a thousand ships in my heart, so easy
Still, it's fine from afar, and you know that

Whoa
Brainstorm
Take me away from the norm
Whoa
I've got to tell you something

So if you like me write a song about me

heaven and hell

As much as i believe in God and all that, I've always had a problem with the idea of Hell. I wrote a long time ago about the death penalty, and I have a similar feeling. In that case, i agree with the death penalty in theory, but on an individual basis I still have a hard time wishing it on anybody. As I said I feel the same way about hell. I agree with the idea of hell in theory: there are people out that there that live completely unredeeming lives. They spend their time here on the earthly plane bringing pain, suffering, and misery to innocent people who just wish to go about their lives in peace. 

I think its the hindis or the buddhists who believe that reincarnation is merely a function of self improvement. It exists as a chance to extend the purification of the soul when such endeavors cant be completed during a single lifetime. I like that idea, that you cant escape destiny and the cycle of life and death. 

I also like to think that such a cycle is for everyone, not just a chosen few. When I say everyone, I mean everyone. 

There are whispers around the dogmatic 'water cooler' that a gospel exists that was left out that suggests that hell isn't totally really real. The rumor is that if everyone who's not in hell asks, hell will be emptied and everyone let out. I don't exactly believe in that either, but it opened the door to a progressive idea of hell. For some, the process of self improvement, purification of the soul, involves some imposed, confined, dedicated thinking time. Also known as prison. This theory isn't perfect, as prison is also not perfect. If the universe included an idea of prison in its plan, why is it such a foul place? why does it seem that it concentrates criminals rather than rehabilitating them? I don't know. But prison does help some people, arguably in a way that nothing else could. 

But what about the people who some how manage to escape prison? Their whole lives, they evade capture and, it seems, die by the sword rather than pay for their crimes. 

Maybe thats what hell is, a sort of afterlife prison. I find that notion satisfying for several reasons. First, it means that there is redemption for all, not just some, that we all are subject to the same rules and restrictions, no matter what, but that we also have the same opportunities. No one can escape the universe. Second, it means that hell is not permanent. I'm not sure which scares me more: the idea that heaven is forever or that hell is. 

So on to heaven. When I was young I used to get scared in my room a night, thinking the dull roar of the city i heard through my window was an earthquake on its way to annihilate existence. I even had a fantasy that an airplane could escape the destruction. I know there were other things that scared me, but what REALLY scared me was heaven. I was sent to Christian day care until 5th or 6th grade and went to sunday services till about that time as well. I grew up believing without question the doctrine as written by the baptists, including the notion of everlasting life in the presence of our lord in eternal perfection. Frankly I'll pass. I do not want to live forever in any form and I can't understand why all the rest of these zealots work so hard trying to earn it. I so strongly do not want to live forever that if i ever wanted to freak myself out all i had to do was imagine living forever and never dying. 

So when I finally started to rethink the doctrine and develop my own personal dogma, one of the first things i got rid of is that notion of forever. I wanna die someday. Not just leaving my earthly coil, I want the light that is my soul to someday flicker out and be no more. Seriously.

Now just what is this heaven place? I have no problem imagining that it is perfect and endless and without flaw, that sounds fun and all. But that sounds like the universe to me. All of Gods (or whoever) wonders are supposed to exist in this, boundless, universe, so why bother creating another place that fits the same description just to stick our souls in it? Besides, I won't be done exploring this one when I die, not by a long shot. I wanna know what the ef is out there, I have a lot of questions I want answered. So I thought that would be a much better heaven, for me anyway. Just let my soul have free reign of this universe, flying around at multiple warp speeds checking out what there is to see. Not quite in the way of ghostiness, that seems too tied to corporeal time and place. Then, after a couple millenia of that, once I know if and where the aliens are, what happens in a black hole, and who killed kennedy (and who was behind 9/11) for that matter, then I'll voluntary lay down for the big sleep. 

So there you have it: Hell is an afterlife prison, and Heaven is just flying around the universe and exploring till you get tired.

i am whatever you say i am

I'm really tired of people having opinions about who I am lately. For a while I thought it was because I'm a woman, and I still think thats part of it. I've discovered that the general male attitude deems that we are not allowed to exceed them in any way, at all, whatsoever, at any time. But if we do, then they expect you to apologize for it constantly. In general I find myself apologizing for who I am alot. That would be okay except I'm not really sorry. People like to point out to me alot that I'm loud, bossy, opinionated, whatever, you know the drill. You all know me so its not like its new information. But whenever people, including people I consider my friends, point these things out, they always refer to them as bad things. They further act like they're doing me some favor by being my friend in spite of them. To the point that I feel like I have to apologize. Just once I would like someone to mention some of these things to me and make me feel like its a good thing. I know in theory that my independence and brain are an asset, that my loud voice and extroversion make me a good leader, and that I can be very charming and charismatic. But no body ever actually treats them that way. This is who I am. I like who I am. So why am I so miserable? Oh, I know why, because I'm fat. Honestly I have lost all semblance of a realistic self image, to the point that I don't know what I look like anymore. I think about it all the time. I was at a barbeque today with my physics club buddies and all I could think about all day was how fat I was and how they all noticed it. In between those thoughts I spent some time on 'ha ha, Amber's so loud, ha ha, Amber's a kook, look at her' because those were some of the supposedly good natured jokes that were going around. The shitty part about my obsession with my weight is I don't even know if its true. I have completely lost touch with reality on that one. Most of the time I'm pretty sure I'm huge and gross and fat, but if thats true, I don't deserve it. I eat really healthy, in my opinion. Even my junk food is either natural or burgerville. My only sin is a little pepsi. Not like those 44 oz ers or anything, just a can or small bottle here and there. The reason I bring my self image up is that sometimes when I'm thinking about how fat I am I convince myself that its a pennance I am paying for all the other blessings in my life. Like I'm smart and successful and motivated and sure of my self and all the other things so it wouldn't be fair for me to have a healthy self image on top of that.

grad school essay: final draft

dating, the final frontier

I really liked the Star Trek movie. Really liked it. Alot. Liked it. A whole really lot. I even got a heavy crush on Zachary Quinto/Spock afterwards. At first it was fun, I was just happy to be having a crush again. The last couple months I have been getting over someone (no, you're not vain, this song is about you). This someone wasn't even really a thing, but it hasn't really been a thing, for like, 5 years. I'll admit I've been harboring the secret hope that it might become something during this time and that has kept me rather off the market. So anyway, I was hyped on my Spock Crush. Then it started to scare me a bit. I was thinking about the guy like he was a real person that I was dating. I don't mean that I had daydreams wherein I imagined Syler/Spock/Zachary and I having a romantic picnic on a mother fucking boat yall or anything that borderline psychotic. I mean I was having little flashes of feeling, like when you sense the vibe of someone you're stoked on. Its just momentary thing, a fleeting flash of their essence on your mind. But I think usually I have this feeling about actual people. On top of all that, I think Zach is gay, but thats not important. So I started to take apart this unrealistic crush. I deconstructed and analyzed it. I have a theory about the way I like boys, that all of my methods are just ways that I can be in love without actually being in a relationship. I started to think that I was addicted to the unattainable, and that scared me. After dwelling on that scenario for a while I decided to opt for a more rosy one. I actually met a boy this weekend. I don't think it'll turn into anything; he's not really my type and I don't think I'm his. Interesting sidenote; I hadn't really thought about what preppie boys would think of my tattoos but I got to test that theory. I'm not quite sure what the results were, but thats another blog. Anyway, I did meet a boy, and though I don't think its a big deal, there was some serious flirting exchanged. So what if the mr. rightnow from this weekend and my unhealthy hard on for a vulcan were kind of like transition flings. I never thought I was one for the freudian school of thought, but every now and then I try to actively aknowledge that the mind is capable of much more than we imagine, lots of which is not in our control. So what if these were my brains newborn fawn steps, the first tentative steps at reaching my heart out on 'safe' targets. I think that makes sense. Now I need to meet a real live boy. There'll be plenty of time for that this summer, what with trips to seattle, the beach, and just anything else the weather permits. And if all else fails I can always pay for it when I go to thailand in september.

my boobs are a menace to science

I'm taking a class on Transmission electron microscopy this quarter. It's kind of like Scanning electron microscopy, except that instead of shooting electrons at a sample and measuring the ones that bounce off, we make a sample real thin and the electrons tunnel, and then we measure them. It's actually fancier than it sounds; electron tunneling is a quantum effect, in fact its usually known as quantum tunnelling. You see, we have a lot of tools and methods to model the atom and describe the way these particles all buzz around each other, but when it comes to actually knowing what it does we are completely in the dark. One of the methods we use for explaining the behavior of these particles is with statistical methods. We model the orbits of the electrons by giving probabilities that it be in any particular place at a given time. Obviously some locations are more probable than others. When we model the path of an electron as we shoot it at a solid boundary, the closer we get to the boundary, the probability that the electron will be found there drops. However, the nature of probability functions is that they are continuous; you can't just stick a boundary and say it can't be located on the other side. Matter isn't really solid, mostly made of empty space, so what makes up that border? Not much. Anyway, you make the sample thin enough and the probability says it will go all the way through to the other side. I say it just found a way in all that empty space, but the rules of quantum tunneling say it will never actually be found inside the matter, just on the one side and coming out the other. So anyway, now we're learning the TEM and its a bit more delicate than the SEM. Apparently. I wasn't there for the first class, I was judging the High School science fair (the little geniuses were so cute!) so I missed the announcements about 'absolutely don't do this'. This model is a bit older and so it has a compartment where you could place film for pictures. This compartment by necessity is located right in front under the main column of the microscope, right where you face the machine. As with all of the internal mechanism of the scope, it is under high vacuum, something of the order of 10 E -9. Vacuums of this level often take time to reach, minutes to hours. Again, this is an older machine so it takes more like hours. I bumped the lever to open the chamber with my boobs. Class was over at that point.

state of the union

I went to the APS conference in Pittsburgh. Not much to report on that, it was much as you'd expect, pictures to come. It was intense, I can say that for the experience. There were 7000 physicists in one town for a week. It starts at 8 in the morning and goes till five at night with 3, 3 hour sessions a day, and each of those sessions has 15 to 45 minute mini sessions where each person gives their 'talk'. They tell what their new and exciting research has produced. Then there were evening sessions, dinners, meetings and such. I went to my invited conference on sunday, that was why I went in the first place, and I went to 3 out of 6 sessions on monday and tuesday. The other time I spent in the exhibit hall and then tooling around pittsburgh, blah blah blah. Unless you care about physics you wont care about my trip, but I do have a moderately interesting story to recount.
When I was a waitress I was the queen of tray carrying. I could always carry a full and awkward tray with no spills, mess, or dropping. Its not that I was super talented, I just knew the secret. Occasionally I would meet another waitress who did not know the secret and I would try many different methods with all possible humility and tact to explain it, but without fail, they never appreciated the magnitude of the secret. No matter how much pain and suffering it would save them, they simply were not grateful.
When I was in Pittsburgh I was at a bar by my hotel having dinner and I witnessed yet another waitress making the big tray mistake. Many people when carrying a tray will attempt to place the drinks evenly and equidistant from each other around the whole surface of the tray and then try to precariously hold it at the center of gravity and balance with all their might. Then, not only are they all far away from the center of mass, they all are radially removed from it so they will often have extra velocity than the place at which you are holding it. (think of a record player, the edge of the record makes a circle in the same length of time as the center, but covers a much greater distance, therefore greater velocity). This means it has more momentum and requires greater force to stop, force that you are not applying except to the place where you are holding.
It need not be that difficult at all. The SECRET is to stack all the drinks together in a clump, with the rims of the glasses touching one another. Then not only are they closer to the center of mass, some are even right over it. Also, the force applied when you stop moving is very efficiently applied to all the drinks, and they all have the same velocity and require the same force to stop. Much more stable too, wider base to height ratio.
If you keep that in mind when setting your drinks, you could place the whole clump at the far edge and it doesn't matter as long as you place your hand roughly under the center of the drinks.
So when I saw this young lady making the mistake, it gave me pain. I was tempted, even, to explain it too her yet again. But now, even though I could even explain the physics behind it to her, I still don't think she would have appreciated it.

007

After Roger Moore finished his last james bond movie there was debate over who should play him next. I was a huge fan of Remington Steele at the time, and of course, Pierce Brosnan was up for the part. I just knew he was perfect for it. Who did they choose? Timothy f'ing Dalton. Two movies later, they finally saw the light, and Pierce did 3 movies as the spy. Proving, of course, that I am always right. Then, after Brosnan's run, it was time to choose a new one. I had heard a rumor that Clive Owen was being considered. I had recently seen a movie called 'Croupier' in which Owen starred brilliantly, and I just knew he was the right man. Whom did they choose? Daniel Craig, a f'ing blonde. Hopefully they see the light, because I would LOVE to see Clive Owen as 007. I think he might need to be a bit older, though. Also, rumor has it, he turned it down. Whatever, they just need to remember that I am always right.

FISHER PRICE my first electron microscope

<font style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: -webkit-monospace; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" size="undefined">Today I took my very first SOLO electron microscope images. An electron microscope bombards the surface of a specimen with, you guessed it, electrons, and then measures the energy of the reflected electrons to create a topographical image of a sample. The microscope used for the teaching purposes of the class I am taking was built in, like, 1978, so there is a nob for everything. I wish I could show you a picture but they are so old that google images does not have one. The item I imaged was this:<br><br><img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r134/aclauer/pii.jpg"></font> The area marked 1 is what these images are of. It is the contact for this card when it is inserted into a board.&nbsp; I will be imaging areas 2 and 3 as well, but I am starting with 1. The first image I took was at 15x magnification:<br><img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r134/aclauer/15xsamp1-1.jpg"><br>Not that high mag, but exciting none the less.<br>Next was 50 mag I think.<br><img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r134/aclauer/50xsamp1-1.jpg"><br>Notice how the silicon board area in between the contact is starting to become less of a solid area and much more wavy.<br><br><img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r134/aclauer/150xsam1.jpg"><br>I think this was 500. Check out how weird the silicon area is starting to look.<br><br>Then I did the connector and silicon individually:<br><img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r134/aclauer/500xsa1.jpg"><br>I didn't clean the specimen with alcohol before, only water so some of those artifacts may disappear. That's the connector, btw.<br><img src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r134/aclauer/1500xsa1-1.jpg"><br>Thats the silicon. <br><br>Anyway, it's very exciting for me. Also, xray analysis proved that the connector is primarily gold.<br>

guilty pleasures

This is a list, in no particular order, of things I like, or things that make me happy, that are
a. bad for me
b. geekier than usual
c. embarassing
d. all of the above

Some of them I admit to, some I dont.

The tv show 'Friends'
that song 'Hey there delilah'
Dirtbag boys (though I pick ones with jobs)
taco bell
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
My married math professor (I wouldn't act on it)
letting people know how smart I am
beer
beer
liquor
beer
making out while drunk
karaoke
Dave Matthews band
showing off my Lexus (I mean really, its a '92)
porn
porn
teen movies (especially: bring it on, ten things I hate about you, mean girls, save the last dance, etc)
pining for old loves
gossip
celebrity gossip
Sarah Machlachlan
Sheryl Crow
Fleetwood Mac
Bob Seger
Meatloaf (the band)
talking about sex
Tonya Harding
Dive bars
being needed
star trek the next generation
money from my dad
myspace
blogging

And now you know everything

my first astronaut

Tuesday I met my first astronaut. I have to thank my E&M professor, Erik Sanchez, for being sick that day, thus allowing me to miss class and attend the lecture of Don Pettit, scientist and astronaut. Dr. Pettit spent 5 1/2 months aboard the space station performing all sorts of experiments and such. The interesting stuff, though, was what he did in his off time. First he showed us his view of the aurora borealis, which was freakin amazing. It was hundreds of miles of green glow. Then he went on to tell about the wacky experiments he came up with to perform in his off time. First, there was the sphere of water. As you know, there is no gravity up there, so liquids exist in spheres. He injected an air bubble into the sphere, then injected water bubbles inside that. The bubbles behaved really strangely. They rolled around the interior surface of the sphere and sometimes bounced from side to side. Every once and a while, though, they would give up some of their mass to be absorbed into the bigger bubble. When they did this, they maintained the same momentum with a much smaller mass, resulting in a much higher velocity, so they would shoot off across the bubble. It's kinda like when an ice skater extends her arms to slow down and retracts them to speed up. Sort of. Next he took another sphere of water and placed an alka seltzer tablet in it. That was kind of hard to describe, but essentially it bubbled and grew till it was almost twice its original size. There was more stuff like that. A gyroscopically balanced flashlight made of three cd players taped together in different directions, turned on to stablize it. You could put it somewhere and it wouldn't move. The most interesting thing, though, was the spiders. Apparently they took spiders into space to see what they'd do. They spun webs, of course, cause bird's gotta fly, spider's gotta spin. The webs turned out like garbage. At first... after a couple days they started to manage just fine, and their webs turned out correctly. Weird. They also took caterpillars to test their cocoons, but Dr. Pettit left before he could see that experiment play out. What I really want to know, though, is how the butterfly would fly. They fly by using their wings against the air to create lift, and they get used to flapping with enough power that the lift overcomes the force of gravity. Well, there's still air in the space shuttle. Would the butterfly attempt one flap and then shoot across the shuttle due to no gravity to weigh it down? That would be something to see. Anyway, I was definitely star struck, and he explained what his take on the process to becoming an astronaut is. First, he said that a military background does help, although its not vital. Negative. Next, he said you had to know your way around a screwdriver. In this environment, if any of your machinery breaks, you have the possibility that you might not be able to perform experiments, maybe you might not be able to survive. So you have to know how to fix stuff. Check. Also, a background in science is vital, preferrably ME, EE, CE, Physics, Chem, and some medical sciences. Advanced degree, check. Also, the best thing he said was that scientist astronauts are generally chosen in their early 40's, due to maturity and experience. AWESOME!!!! Anyway, the good doctor was a big nerd just like me, and I have renewed hope that I may make it up there someday.

Crisis averted

I think I got it figured out. Bear with me, this one is gonna take the scenic route.

So there was this show I used to love called Dharma & Greg. The main character Greg was an uptight OCD attorney, and Dharma was a mellow, free spirited yoga teacher. At one point, Greg decides he doesn't like the fast track he is on and quits the rat race to 'follow his bliss'. Fast forward a few weeks and he is arguing with Dharma about everything. He eventually winds up growing a beard and sitting in a park feeding the birds. Finally, he winds up giving legal advice to the homeless and less fortunate types he meets there. The moral of the story? He discovers that being a lawyer is not just what he does, but what he IS.

I think my main crisis lately has been more a deep seeded fear that I'm not good enough to be a physicist, and not that I'm not sure if I want to.

So for the last week or so I have been going crazy with school stress. Actually its been more like math & physics stress. I have equations swimming in my head day and night, and eventually I get delirious with brain fry. I finished the midterm that was not helping my frying, and had calmed down a bit. I've been working pretty hard this week and my work day has been ending pretty late. Tonight I stopped working at 11. My roommate is taking a math class, and sometimes he asks me for help or just likes to talk about it, and tonight he was doing just that. I tried to follow what he was saying and when I couldn't it started giving me anxiety. I decided then and there I was going to have to impose a personal stop time when I put all numbers and such away completely and don't use that part of my brain for the rest of the night. 20 minutes later, without even realizing it, I was answering other peoples math and physics questions on a homework help website.

Soy como soy.

I think therefore I am. Or something.

If you've spent time around me recently you know that I've been having a bit of an existential crisis lately. At first I thought it was midterms, then I thought it was pms, and it did turn out to be a bit of both those things, but It has lingered. It just hit me how long I've been spending my days doing math and physics problems. Theoretically that will all stop, sort of , after I finally graduate. I have realized that I am not going to be a theoreticist. I think I'm gonna be an experimentalist. I think that my computer business/hobby made me realize that. I really like physics, but I especially like the fancy equipment we use to do physics, like vacuums, microscopes, etc. I kind of like being really needed, the way I am now. Programmers and CE's are alright, but even they still need me. I think that's gonna be my niche. I know it sounds silly, but I have this vision of myself in a spaceship in the future, and I'm the one that keeps all the machines running. I'm so invaluable and no one can do what I do, that's what gets me on the crew in the first place. That's also why they have to accept me, loud and aggressive, tattoos and all. It's sort of a movie in my head. That leads me to my point; the existentialism in my career has lead to some other reevaluation. I am 32, I am as single as it gets. I have no kids, I'm a MS student who won't really get to start my career till I'm 37. I am going to be probably $100,000 in debt (and a Doctor, so i guess it balances). I don't own a house I don't have a retirement, and I don't know where I'm going to school in 2 years. What is my point? Where is this going? That's what I want to know.

i'm losin it.

But it's only temporary. It happens to me once every quarter, usually. Actually it happens to everyone once a quarter, but everyone gets it at different times. Usually for me it's right in the middle of the quarter. Nothing seems to be going right, the pressure starts overwhelming me, I feel not smart enough and then...Crack. I break under the pressure. Tonight in my living room I'm listening to "the Flame" by Cheap Trick, and I just start bawling. At least when I used to crack as an undergrad I was in the math department, and I was an undergrad. I felt like I belonged over there. I have managed to find my niche here in the physics department but it definitely wasn't easy. Physicists are elitists, I mean, after all, we're usually smarter than everyone in the room. That goes to your head after a while. Now I've got the added pressure of being a grad student at a semi-inferior university, not knowing exactly where I want my career to go, all the while thinking I'm a fucking fraud, like I'm not smart enough or dedicated enough or any of the other things you need to be to hack it as a professional scientist. Not just that, but a professional PHYSICIST. You may have seen my myspace quote, but I'll tell you a little more about it: this man, Ernest Rutherford, was a physicist, but somehow, some way, he managed to win the nobel prize in CHEMISTRY. Well needless to say he was not happy about it, and apparently responded with the quote "In science there is only physics. All the rest is stamp collecting". What the fuck have I gotten myself into. Oh, and on top of everything, today one of my advisors let me know that if I wanted to get things done I need to be less loud, less aggressive. Hey by the way, could you please be a little less YOU. I would like to point out that he is from an eastern block country. Also, as another female scientist pointed out to me, he would never say that to me if I were a man.

Time to go put humpty dumpty back together again.

Our Cocksucking Mayor

I wrote this letter to the editor of WW. Here it is complete with his response.


This Celebrity obsessed culture has bred in Americans a sense of entitlement and ownership that is far misplaced. Our very accomplished current mayor is the perfect example of this. We give lip service to the concept of a private life, but when it comes to actually having one, we pay it little mind. This latest scandal has a very convincing veneer of validity, after all, it is apparent that Mr. Adams didn't tell the truth when questioned about whom he has sex with. So, what, he is entitled to a private life until we want to know about it? And then he owes us some sort of explanation? No amount of salacious desire for the truth, or even a righteous one, means that we are entitled to it. Not when it comes to his personal, private life. The way I see it, two things are at issue here: whether he had sex with an underage boy, and whether he lied about it. If the former were true, we would have every right to know, but that is absolutely where our privilege ends. Barring that, it doesn't matter whether he conspired with the entire staff of the City Hall, CBS, NBC, ABC and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to keep it quiet because IT'S NONE OF OUR BUSINESS IN THE FIRST PLACE. And though it may be hard to accept 18 is adult, pure and simple. The minute we start allowing it to be a gray border rather than a fine line, we open up a what's her name's box. The young man's subsequent choice in partner, aged in his late 30's, shows that he enjoys this demographic. What if the young man lied for him? As long as he felt comfortable doing so, and was not threatened or coerced, that is also the young man's right. Now, I seriously doubt Mayor Adams had sex with him as a minor. He's not an idiot. So he didn't tell us the truth? He doesn't have to.
--
Amber,

Nice piece. But way too long for the paper. Have you posted it on our web site?

regards,
Mark

why I am up at 7 am on a saturday morning

First of all let me thank god that it is not because I have been up all night. I actually went to bed at 11 and I was sofa king tired. You see, what had happened was... Over break I got into this f'ed up sleeping schedule where I went to bed at 5 am or later. It sucked, but every night I tried to change it something came up. I wasn't even drinking that much, maybe 3 times a week, but it didn't help. It was no big deal over break, but thats all over. Now its serious time, with school and research and all-more on that later. Finally I just bought some sleeping pills and went to bed early on monday. When I get on the early sleep schedule I get tired early. Really early. And it's not just tired, it's like cant walk anymore exhaustion, usually by ten o'clock. The upside is I get up early and get more done. I also can't control what time I wake up, and once I'm up, I'm up. Wednesday I got up at 5:30. I got so much done that day though. Vacuumed out my car, diagnosed my aunt's computer problem, dropped off another computer, and lots of other things I can't remember. Thursday night I didn't go to bed till 4 am, but for good reason; I was getting tattoed (profile picture). On that side note, all I got was the outline done. It took 3 hours. We didn't get started till 11 so Patrick was tired and we quit at 1:30. I'll go back for the color in 2 or 3 weeks. So Friday morning, despite going to sleep hella late, I woke up at 8:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. I had shit to do all day and couldn't get a nap in. Then I had girl's night with some friends from the physics department. We went to my work: Red Star Tavern. We had an appetizer of mussels (I always get the mussels at my work), and for dinner I had duck with turnip puree and soured cabbage in a cranberry sauce. Yumm! didn't eat much of the duck cause I was already full, but it made for a yummy breakfast this morning, still with leftovers. I also had 2 mac and jacks african amber beers, which is my favorite in the whole wide world!!! Unfortunately I was too tired to carry on the rest of the evening that the ladies had planned. We started dinner at 8 and by 10 I was ready to drop. Which leads us to the point of my story. I got home at 10 and sat on the couch for a half hour or so and then my head hit the pillow like a ton of bricks. So now I am awake at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. It's sad really. I have more shit to get done today, which is why I'm not trying to go back to sleep, and this story probably ends with me being to tired to go out again tonight and falling asleep at 10. On the side note I promised earlier, things are progressing nicely at school. I was picked by the American Physical Society to attend a conference for grad students on alternative energy sources. There is $500 in travel assistance, and my department is matching the $500. Its in Pittsburgh, which is not that exciting, but travel is travel. So that will be fun. I'm also a member of a team entering a contest for ROV's (remotely operated vehicles). We will design a sub that will perform a number of tasks, and we'll hopefully get to travel to the contest and compete. I will also have a poster at a conference coming up in February. Stay tuned for more pictures of the tattoo. I love it!