It is Sunday morning. I am sitting on the living room floor, wrapped in a blanket, with two laptops and a bag of potato chips, writing about early onset type 2 diabetes. It is nice to write about something where 90% of people don't die from it in less than five years. At the very least, there's less of the "why the heck am I writing this stupid thing about changes in cell phenotype instead of doing experiments that's actually relevant to figuring out the disease?" mindset, which makes it easier to stand back, breathe, and say "Okay, this is not my area of interest, I need to know the general pathways to get through this course, but this will be someone else's project, not mine."
(Still no sign from the PI looking over the Alzheimer's proposal, by the way. Should I be giving up all hopes by this point?)
I am going through tea at an alarming rate. Though usually after the second cup I'll start switching to non-caffeinated types so I don't end up awake at 3 in the morning. No one feels good at 4 in the morning, but 3 honestly isn't that much better.
My upstairs neighbor is unusually noisy this weekend. Given the nature of the noises I try very hard not to think too much about it.
I realized I also haven't written anything particularly insightful here in a while. Is it simply because the classes and research have eaten my brain? Possible, but a large part of me is always lingering on the academic stuff. Maybe it's just because I got lazy and kept finding excuses to put it off. This weekend my excuse is the finals projects. Or maybe I'm just getting so tied down to the mundane things like remembering to buy eggs at the grocery store and turn in my papers on time that I don't bother with trying to find something insightful anymore. It's hard to know, right now, with little bits of my idealism bleeding into all my proposed experiments and a lot of emotions and philosophies bleeding into my stories and my pragmatism (is that what it is? This here's what I did today and here's what I'll need to do tomorrow?) dumped here. Whatever's left is dealt with by attacking a paper with crayons, apparently. There is no insight. Somehow I've gone from "why're things the way they are" to "that's the way things are, c'est la vie".
Except no, that's not really true either. I think I may have gotten sneakier when I'm not paying attention. Or maybe I've just stopped paying attention.
Curiosity lives on, though. It does that.
1 comment:
Noooo don't let that thing eat your brain! Save yourself!
I think you're plenty insightful, though. You just need some more chocolate and the insight will come to you. (At least that's what works for me...or is it from that other "stuff" that you can get on Telegraph Ave...?)
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