Week 52

One week left to 2012.  I mope about research progressing slowly, so it takes me aback a bit to realize that it has been a pretty jam-packed year.

(Currently listening to the the Phantom of the Opera, the Original London Broadway Soundtrack, please.  I used to listen to this 6-7 times a day from ages 8 to 11 or so.  Not even joking.  It is the surest track to nostalgic warm-fuzzies that I know, and plus, it's drowning out the god-awful 1930's holodex sim murder mystery starring the guy from Criminal Minds Intaglio is watching.)

(God, Michael Crawford is awesome.  I don't care if he's in his 60's, having him in the movie instead of Gerard Butler would have redeemed the entire damn thing.)

Right now, I'm feeling a little stuck.  Clutter-wise, weight-wise, health-wise, research-wise....well, actually, my PI decided that the last set of results was promising enough to advance.  I've come to the conclusion that progression in research is 10% discovery and 90% executive PI decision.  Note that I have no problem with this, so long as I am progressing!

It has been a strange couple of weeks.  Sandy Hook shook me up a lot more than your average school shooting (awful to type, but true).  And I realized that the uniqueness is due to the fact that in a half a year or so, should all forces smile upon us I'll be bound to Ingalio's gun-nutty family.  There are a higher than average number of said nuts in Intaglio's family, the sort who, if pressed, would argue that yes, the second amendment is worth it.  We need mental health screenings and more regulations, but yes, it is fundamental to our liberty.

Two points, and I'll keep them brief because I'm sick of screaming them impotently over the ether.

1)  I agree that we need to beef up our mental health services.  No argument.  But I hate, hate, hate this being mentioned in the context of shootings.  It drives a wedge between the attacker and ourselves.  That poor soul, he was so troubled.  He was crazy.  He was an awful abberation.
No.  He was not.  In the right context, with the right opportunity, we could be him.  Any one of us.  The Standford Prison Experiment laid it out, pretty clearly.  The real monsters, the ones that drive us to hurt and kill and hate and bloat up to obscene sizes on fat and sugar, are what got us here, the ones that made us a successful species.  We are wired to eat.  We are wired to fight and defend and kill.  (I skimmed a study recently showing that our hands evolved to generate force effectively through punches.)  The means to do so have never been so available, so when we inevitably slip, the ramifications are huge.

2)  Fundamental to our liberty?  Freedom from tyranny?  Do you think the government is afraid of your pop-gun, little boy?  Don't make me laugh.  A standing army, nuclear weapons, state department labs, more than you or I will ever know.  No.  The only ones who fear your assault rifle are civilians. 

Ugh.  Anyway.

It's the last week of the year.  In the name of starting fresh, I'm hoping to organize and de-clutter 1 or two problem spots every day until New Year's Eve, when I will ring in 2013 with a clean apartment, all debts paid off, and hopefully a similarly clear mental and physical state.

Monday: Pantry
Tuesday: Coat closet
Wednesday: Bedroom closet
Thursday: Under the bed
Friday: Clothes drawers
Saturday: Kitchen cabinets
Sunday: Shoe bench, bathroom
Monday: Dinner table (easiest for last)

Physically, ugh.  Since the snowfall, I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that running outdoors is treacherous at best.  I tried running on the treadmill at the gym, and after only 3.5 miles, my knee was causing excruciating pain, as it has when I've run on the treadmill at the past.

(Listening to Down Once More, staring Ramin Karimloo.  Sorry, Ramin, but you're no M.C.)

Money has been tight this month, but I'm thinking a stationary bike would be a decent investment.  Most of the good models are less than $200 on Amazon, and it might be enough to get me through the winter with no repetitive joint injuries. 

Diet-wise, I'm still a mess, hovering 10 lbs above where I want to be.  Free food remains my kryptonite, and there's an abundance of it this time of year.

Two successes I have to report: I've all but finished organizing my first lab notebook, and my pandemic/apocalypse/power outage kit is nearly complete.

Hopefully I'll have a little more insight on what I need to do to make 2013 a successful and enjoyable year for me and anyone who interacts with me by choice or necessity as the week goes by.  On the whole, insight is probably my rarest and most prized commodity  I'll do my best to scrounge some up.

(Gave up on M.C. knock-offs, listening to "Whistle" by Flo Rida.  It has its place.)