The secret to running on the treadmill without irreparably damaging my knee appears to be running at a slower pace so I'm forced to take smaller steps. I ran 5 miles yesterday and today, and as of yet have suffered no ill effects!
The secret to troubleshooting is that fixing one problem will likely leave another one untouched and reveal a third. (The IL-10 production is back on the scale we had anticipated, and the LPS is working! But the IL-12 production is still essentially 0, and now my non-tolerogenic cells are acting tolerogenic.)
The secret to getting me to like a movie is to include lots of heavy campy makeup and dramatic singing. Gothic costumes don't hurt either.
The secret to eating normally appears to be putting off lunch as long as possible. Not sure why this works.
According to a cooking blog I read, the secret to ideal banana bread appears to be marzipan. I'll be trying this out tomorrow or Sunday. Another cooking blog revealed that the secret to gnocchi is that it doesn't need to be smothered in cream or browned butter--a light tomato broth is sufficient. I also intend to try this out over the weekend.
The secret that I've kept from my PI is that I really need to start working in the hospital again. We're supposed to do 1/2 a day a week for 10 weeks per semester, and my clinical skills have become ridiculously rusty. Making it easier: It is required. I can just wave my hands in the air and shrug. Making it harder: She's expressed confidence that I will be fine if I devote all my time and energy to research, and that my good nature will carry the day when I go back to medical school. Um.
The secret every single doctor thus far who has observed me has told me: A good nature is great, but ability to make eye contact is key.
The secret I keep to myself when I smile and nod and thank them for their insight: parents, friends, teachers, and mentors have been trying to teach me to make eye contact since I was 2 and it was clear I wanted nothing to do with it.
Relatedly: I still want nothing to do with it. I can snap into interview mode and make eye contact and smile broadly when needed. I can make eye contact with my partners easily, but it's my version of the Naked Rights (Coupling, British version, the only one that matters): the instant the relationship ends, my desire/ability to make effortless eye contact evaporates. I can make tenuous eye contact with friends and family. Ugh. Eye contact should not be required in a civilized world. It is entirely cultural.
On the whole, though, life is good right now. I'm a happy camper.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Wide awake
I woke up around 3:45 AM this morning due to an asthma attack. Fortunately/unfortunately, these attacks are infrequent and never really panic-inducing, just lots and lots of coughing and hacking, so while in the throes of an attack I promise myself I'll get myself a prescription for albuterol, but by the time it wears off I shrug and think, "Eh...".
So it is currently 4:20 AM or so and I'm waiting for the Benadryl to kick in. Once it does kick in, I'm basically going to lapse into unconsciousness immediately. This is sort of like playing blog roulette--let's see how much of substance and coherency I can get down before I pass out!
The New Year. So far, it's going reasonably well. I've been keeping the apartment tidier (dishes done every night, bed made every morning, laundry folded quickly) and I've been slowly but surely importing organizational stuff for my ancient clutter. I've been using my stationary bike reasonably regularly, though I was thrilled to discover it's supposed to get up to 50 degrees this week, so I might be able to do some actual running.
My diet has, on the whole, been better. I slipped up this weekend with a bag of fun-sized Snickers, but on the whole, I'm making progress. I'm trying to weigh myself less frequently to avoid it becoming more of an obsession.
I still want to start going to the gym to actually get some upper-arm strength. I discarded the P90X idea because it was just too expensive and required a ton of extra equipment. When Winter Semester starts in earnest I'll find a weight-lifting class and attend it religiously, so do I promise myself.
I think I'm most proud of the fact that I've been working on my review paper a bit each day reliably. Ugh. It's slow-going, but yesterday I got a full page written. I'd like to start doing the same with my fiction-writing, but I've been resisting. I think I'm frightened I'll find out I'm not cut out for it. I was talking to Intaglio the other day about how I struggle to find significance in some of the short stories I read, and he said, "Yeah, your mind is too black-and-white and straightforward. I think most of the metaphors would go right over your head." I was pissed, but only because he was right. I tend to lose a lot of what I read (and I mean what I read of Literature with a capital L, not, like, John Dies At the End, which is freaking awesome and scary and hilarious and everyone should read it), and I'm afraid that because of my straightforwardness I'll never be able to write anything compelling.
WHOA, getting woozy. Okay. Sleepy times for IL-X. Let's hope I can wake up at a reasonable hour!
So it is currently 4:20 AM or so and I'm waiting for the Benadryl to kick in. Once it does kick in, I'm basically going to lapse into unconsciousness immediately. This is sort of like playing blog roulette--let's see how much of substance and coherency I can get down before I pass out!
The New Year. So far, it's going reasonably well. I've been keeping the apartment tidier (dishes done every night, bed made every morning, laundry folded quickly) and I've been slowly but surely importing organizational stuff for my ancient clutter. I've been using my stationary bike reasonably regularly, though I was thrilled to discover it's supposed to get up to 50 degrees this week, so I might be able to do some actual running.
My diet has, on the whole, been better. I slipped up this weekend with a bag of fun-sized Snickers, but on the whole, I'm making progress. I'm trying to weigh myself less frequently to avoid it becoming more of an obsession.
I still want to start going to the gym to actually get some upper-arm strength. I discarded the P90X idea because it was just too expensive and required a ton of extra equipment. When Winter Semester starts in earnest I'll find a weight-lifting class and attend it religiously, so do I promise myself.
I think I'm most proud of the fact that I've been working on my review paper a bit each day reliably. Ugh. It's slow-going, but yesterday I got a full page written. I'd like to start doing the same with my fiction-writing, but I've been resisting. I think I'm frightened I'll find out I'm not cut out for it. I was talking to Intaglio the other day about how I struggle to find significance in some of the short stories I read, and he said, "Yeah, your mind is too black-and-white and straightforward. I think most of the metaphors would go right over your head." I was pissed, but only because he was right. I tend to lose a lot of what I read (and I mean what I read of Literature with a capital L, not, like, John Dies At the End, which is freaking awesome and scary and hilarious and everyone should read it), and I'm afraid that because of my straightforwardness I'll never be able to write anything compelling.
WHOA, getting woozy. Okay. Sleepy times for IL-X. Let's hope I can wake up at a reasonable hour!
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