Closure

This NYT article, entitled "I Heart Upredictable Love" by Richard Friedman really struck a chord with me.  Here are two excerpts:

Professor Berns discovered that the water and juice elicited greater activation in the brain’s reward circuit when the reward was unanticipated than when it was delivered in a predictable fashion. The pattern held true whether the reward was water or fruit juice — even though most subjects claimed a clear preference.

and

These data might explain, in part, the paradox of people who complain constantly about their unreliable lovers, but keep coming back to them, time and again.

I dated a boy in high school, and it started out as your typical teenage love affair but ended in a total train wreck, finally, my freshman year of college.  I've never been able to reconcile why, when I knew better, I still turned to him again and again no matter how many times he broke my heart.  I feel like this article offered that lightbulb moment.  The pain of the first break-up was so acute, I would have done anything just to make my lungs fill with air again - even forgive his infidelity.  Each successive break-up was less painful, but more embarrassing.  When was I going to learn?  According to this article, not until the "reward" of his affection was less than the pleasure of finally being free of the nightmare.

 

Kissing Summer Good-Bye

For the duration of this Labor Day weekend, I will be reading smutty novels and eating only beer and ice cream.

If I feel inspired, I may take a shower.

All are welcome to this party.

Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I Have the Internal BER

Oh, Blossom end rot! Thy name is villainy!

My precious ruby red, heavy-set tomatoes are filled with poisonous black pus.  Well, shit.

Years ago, I watched that PBS special on the farmer's wife.*  It was a fascinating documentary on being a farmer in the US, but mostly focused on the marital dynamic.  I was gripped by the story and convinced I do not have the patience to be a farmer or married to one.

However, the show did not convey the personal heartache from a failed crop.  My sweet, leafy sprouts that I have fawned and cooed over, excited by their promise, have led to naught this year.  My grandparents were farmers of several acres in Massachusetts.  How did they do this?  I am not cut out for the disappointment. I feign a cavalier attitude, but I am crushed: store-bought tomatoes for our house this summer.

My Grampa with his prized bounty, 1965.  

His green thumb decidedly did not rub off on his granddaughter.

* oh.  they divorced in 2006.

Fall Whispers

For the past two days, it has been the most perfect summer weather here.  Mostly, because the humidity has suddenly dropped below 100%, which makes it exceedingly comfortable in comparison.

This is a good thing and it makes me happy.

However,....

I also take this change as a sign that Fall is on the horizon.  My school-aged self instinctively rebels against the winding down of summer.  I'm not a parent, so I am blind to the back-to-school start up of sports clubs, clothes/uniform shopping, new school orientation, and teacher assignments that all my other friends are dealing with.

Yet, my body knows, my Id remembers.  The torture and dread that was school cannot be erased from my own circadian rhythms.

A friend emailed that her youngest had high school orientation today, and it was harder (for both daughter and mother) than the first day of kindergarden because, in addition to a new school, "high school girls are meaner than snakes."  I spent the better part of high school fetal with despair thanks to two bullies, so I can understand her concern.

I look forward to the more pleasant days (climatologically and socially!) made of cooler nights, meteor showers, crisp apples, fall colors, and hope my body learns a new rhythm of joy.

Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

5 Year Plan

As in "I need a new one" and "I haven't the first clue what that looks like."

I am so spoiled.

My new boss met with me before her vacation to ask about my development plans.  I knew this day was going to come when I would be asked this question.  I really need to put some more thought into this.  And by that, I mean, I really need to get my sh*t together and start asking, interviewing, researching.

Isn't is so surprising that solutions don't find you, but you have to find them?  Lazy, selfish solutions...

Full of Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing

This blog is supposed to be a friendly place where I keep in touch with my friends and family.  I try hard to abstain from overt ranting about topics that might offend.  Somedays it is harder than others.  Without expressing any particular viewpoint, here is a list of recent topics/events about which I have been sounding off at length:

• Paula Deen's diabetes and her paid sponsor
• Customer service on USAirways vs. United vs. Southwest
• The gas mileage on a 2000 Honda Civic DX compared to a 2012 version of the same
• Smoking at work
• Alec Baldwin and the use of "electronic devices" on planes
• TSA and the monetization of safety

(can you tell I've spent a lot of time on planes lately?)

• Freire's critical consciousness of education and social science theory in general
• Childhood nutrition and obesity
• The current revisioning of the DSM

 /end rant

Mine Control

I came across this story while avoiding my homework the other day about unexploded ordnances in Germany.  (Why are they called ordnances?  Anyone?)  Isn't that just a horrible story?  "600 tonnes of unexploded material discovered every year"?  How is it possible to do any city planning with that kind of threat underground?  Here in the city of brotherly affection, they need special permissions, zoning, and preparations to protect the discovery of any hidden mementos from our nation's birth.  Ah, such simpler times, the Revolutionary War. The worst that can happen is breaking some household relic that Washington kept on his nightstand, not wiping out a square mile of 21st century infrastructure.

Does Germany get to bill the US for the cost of disposal, including transporting hospital patients to safer distances?  Should they?  Discuss.

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

Giving Thanks

Earlier this week, a most beloved family member (are there any other kinds?) was hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street.  We got the call at dinner time that afternoon from the emergency room.  Except for disfiguring scarring, she will be fine.  I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that I don't know how to begin to pay karma back. The thought of her twin babies, just 3 months old, left motherless had me gasping, and the image of her husband of only three years left widowed was more horror than my mind could hold.

My heart even goes out to the man who hit her.  Someone who is drunk at 3pm on a school day with the poor judgement to drive and then (almost) leave the scene of an accident is someone who is not in a good place.  (And that place is about to get so much worse).

Where ever you are now, celebrating this time of family togetherness, pause to drink it in.  Life would not be the same without it. Whatever issues there may be, at least no one is incarcerated or hospitalized.  Saying "i love you" is as easy as a phone call.

And for Pete's sake, don't let anyone drink and drive.

http://www.picturesdepot.com/wallpapers/4797/happy+thanksgiving.html

In Which I Continue to Mature

I have finally accepted that any task I need to get done at home in the evenings after a relentless day of work will be prefaced with a solid 60" of total brainless crap and self-indulgence.  Much like gorging on Snickers and Skittles before sitting down to a dinner of undressed salad and water.  No matter how committed I am on my commute home to "hit the ground running" or how carefully I plan out my moves (drop bag at door, kiss Beloved, change into grubs, boot up computer, turn on drip irrigation, research for 40", turn off drip irrigation, dinner...), I always lose an hour to mindless mind stretching...like blog posts :)

You're Going the Wrong Way!

Planes, Trains & Automobiles

I'm going about this all wrong.

If there's one thing that Hollywood has taught me, it's that with enough grit, hard work, and the right soundtrack, I can overcome any obstacle.  Lesson internalized?  Check!  However, the lesson I need to learn is how to work better with what I have.

At the Super Bowl party this weekend (at which I won twenty dollars!  whoot!), a friend shared her favorite saying from her sons' daycare:  You get what you get and you don't get upset.  So, The University won't let me do what I want.  Deal.  There is time, now, before the MPH starts, during in the Spring and Summer quarters to pack away some extra Communications courses.  I can pick up the 4 or so remaining classes within 6 mos after the MPH is over. What's the rush?

(Um, Hi.  I'm Juliane.  Apparently we've just met.)

In the face of this bureaucratic challenge from The University, I could zig and simply go to another school.

Gary "Figgsy" Figgis: You don't go down Broadway to get to Broadway! You zig! You zag! 

However, part of the award from the Masters in Public Health program, much like an MBA, is the contacts and relationships that are created.  I'll miss out on that opportunity if I complete an online program.  

I should embrace the challenge I am in and not be so focused on the one which lies ahead.  How can I appease the administration while forging ahead with what I want?  Not everything I'm going to learn through this adventure will be taught in the classroom.  The lesson is in the journey, right?

And So It Begins

I am presently trying to enroll in a Masters in Public Health (MPH) program at the same school where I am also pursing my Masters in Science Communication.  Yesterday, I contacted the Office of Graduate Studies to learn how to apply.  I was emailed the names for the advisor for the Communication program and the advisor for Public Health and told they could help with the process.

Tonight, my message to the advisor for Public Health was returned with this snarky missive:

Jill - I'm not quite sure why you're emailing me on this issue. I am the director of the MS in Public Policy, which is obviously different from both the MPH and the MS in COMM.  My guess is that you should contact [the] Office of Graduate Studies

First, my name is not Jill.
Second, the Office of Graduate Studies told me to contact you
Third, there is confusion about what, exactly, it is that you teach.  I suggest you confirm your area of expertise with your employer.

Turns out, I can't do it.  Quite literally, there is no process to pursue two, independent degrees simultaneously.  I have the option of combining them into a dual degree program (not possible with the MPH curriculum), or I can pursue them consecutively.  But, the university bureaucracy is so broken that it cannot accommodate more than one degree record at a time, and, so, it is either one at a time, or combining them into one.

Pardon me while I gape in awe at my inability to convince this esteemed institution of higher learning to, for the love of Fred, take my money.

http://www.thebadchemicals.com/?p=431

Shrink Wrap

Today was the worst day I have, thankfully, had in a long, long time, and that includes the night of my appendicitis.  Pick any area of my life: romance, health, work, money, school, all of it was failing.  As I sat in my car on campus having a good sob to get over it before facing the class, I asked myself: how will you manage a second degree program? a job search? the time for training for a triathlon?

Sometimes change comes into our lives gradually, like the fable told in Holes of the man carrying the pig up the mountain.  At first, as a baby pig, it is a small burden.  As the pig grows, the man becomes stronger, until it is no longer such a burden for him to carry it up the mountain.  We make room for the change and almost don't even notice the difference.  Slowly, we stretch to encompass the new activity.

Other times, change is sudden, like registering for 12 credits after a 15 year hiatus from school.  There is a tense period of adjustment.  That's a lot of stretch all at once.

No one walks around with their lives wrapped loosely around them.  We're shrink wrapped.  No wonder change can be so hard.

Rubicon

My friend, Jenny Jen, and I will turn 40 within a year of each other (our birthdays are almost exactly a year apart).  We agreed to make it a year of celebration.  At first we pondered what turning 40 means to us.  Is it a time to prove our mettle, and go skydiving?  Should we define our selflessness and go dig wells in Africa?  Should we embrace the wrinkles and grey hair and do a long, spa weekend?  Last weekend while doing laps in the pool, we hit upon the perfect solution: one activity per quarter representing the healthier, wealthier, and wiser souls that we are. So far, we have 1) triathlon, and 2) $X savings goal [I'm saving for that car, still].  For wiser, I decided to apply to the Drexel executive MPH program for this fall.

We need a fourth category.  Any suggestions?

Design by Ann Taintor

Resolutions

It's taken until today for me to finally unpack completely from my business trip.  The weather was snowy last night and freezing rain this morning, which meant Juliane worked from home all day.  (SIDE NOTE:  I am la-hoving not working in a lab and being able to do my job from the comfort and safety of my home.)  My commute to work is a bit of a haul, so if I don't get there in the morning, I lose too much time in transit to justify making the trek later in the day.  The upshot of working from home is that I am (usually) to get 10x6 times more done.  Sometimes, a face-to-face is so much more effective and speedy than an email.  Fortunately, none of those issues came up today, so I was able to focus on all that work I didn't get done last week while meeting the new client.  I'm feeling good, now, because I finally put away all those nagging loose ends.  Ah, sweet closure!

What is hanging over your head that you could put to bed today?

I Am Harry's Computer Rage

I get my temper from my father.  At least, that's who I am blaming for the white rage roiling in my breast right now.  My new class uses a statistical software package called SPSS.  Turns out, it won't run on a Mac.  This, after 2.5 hrs of hurling myself against the intarweb.  The blogs and webpages dedicated to deriding and cursing this program, its developers, the developers' mothers, etc., is startling and gives vent to my spleen.

I just installed it on my work laptop in <10 mins.  [grumble Microsoft grumble Steve Jobs grumble]

How Statistics Lie

I heard on the radio this morning that 2010 was the first year in recorded history that there were fewer cars on the road.

The irony of hearing this while stuck in some of the worst holiday traffic was cruel. Of course, that will happen when unemployment is so high. I'm beginning to suspect Greenpeace for the whole financial meltdown.

Clearly, I Cannot Choose the Wine In Front of You

I'm buying a new car.

However, I'm also in the process of re-financing our mortgage (thank you, Economic Meltdown!), so I won't be making the purchase until that is complete.  In fact, interest rates in general are so low that, for the first time in my car-buying life, I will (probably) be financing part of this purchase.  My Beloved and I develop the DTs and break out in a sweat at the thought of getting a loan (the mortgage is bad enough), but if you run the numbers it makes sense.

While we're breaking out of our comfort zone, I've taken it one step farther (isn't that soooo like me?!) and am considering a Luxury Vehicle.  My reading family will guffaw aloud at that;  by our standards a Luxury Car means it comes with its own floor mats!  But, I have it in my head that I will have heated seats, dammit.  And power windows.  And did you know there's a fancy gewgaw on some models so you don't ever have to scrape your windshield?  Sybaritic bliss!  True to form, My Beloved found an after-market kit to DIY heated seats, so that may be an option rather than the Supreme "I'm a Sucker" Mark-Up version of the Civic, but it will be done.

I even emailed a few local dealers to find one with all three cars on the lot so I can test drive all in the same night:  the Accord SE, the Civic Coupe EXL, or the Hybrid Civic with Leather.  On Sunday, I cruised a dealer lot to peak in the windows, and I'm starting to develop dangerous driving habits from checking out every car that passes me.  So, as you see me swerving towards you on the highway, please shout out your MPG!

For my BIL.  I wish.

courtesy of Wiki

The First Rule of Fight Club

I'm taking a class on ethics in science right now. I love the class, but it's making me hate my job. I work as a consultant (of sorts) and it's been interesting being on the "other" side of the phone. There haven't been too many surprises, except one. I knew that it was less expensive to outsource a clinical trial, rather than for the sponsor to hirer the monitors, deal with product, and jump through the regulatory hoops. But now I am beginning to think there is another reason: plausible deniability. The consultant does the "dirty" work. It's a little hard to explain. I know what I think needs to be done. The sponsor knows what they think needs to be done. But we're going to put forward Plan B, which is cheaper/quicker/easier and hope it works. It makes sense all around to try a cheaper/quicker/easier route if it will give the same result. But we're working with a human population and there's one thing I've learned in the 3+ years I've been doing this: you can't predict human behavior. And that's what zaps us.

I'm trying to think of a good metaphor to illustrate what I'm talking about. I guess it's a bit like wrapping street lamps in padding. Nobody is going to walk into them, right? We can agree it's a highly unlikely incidence and would be very expensive to implement a streetlamp wrapping initiative. But then, parkour takes off, or there's a street lamp stunt on Jackass, and all of a sudden 100s of people are colliding with street lamps. Now, imagine as a consultant, I'd seen something similar happen with park benches we installed, for example. I try to warn you, persuade you, help you to conceive of this possible scenario. And you, being a highly experienced MD, have never seen this kind of nonsense. But we both agree that people can act in strange and mysterious ways. I'm convinced of the necessity to prepare for the unexpected, but you can't justify the expense to your shareholders. You get a promotion, and I chew my nails to the quick. Calamity strikes. Now, you're on the hotseat and you point to the consultant who "didn't adequately advise you of the risks."

It makes me feel badly.


There's a story I heard about an opioid product made in Australia (this is years ago). It was manufactured as a tablet, but people crushed the pills into powder to snort it and they were ODing and dying. So, the company converted the medicine from a tablet format to a liquid gelcap. No pills to crush. Problem solved, right? Except now, people used syringes to extract the liquid center and inject it directly into their veins.

Crazy, no? A bit like Fight Club.

You Could Not Be More Wrong

For the last month I've been ruminating on my memory and my happiness.

Memory:
Since turning 35, like a switch, my memory is in the crapper.  Names, faces, things that happened two weeks to two years ago...gone.  And not in the "tip of my tongue" sense but as in the "you must have me confused with someone else b/c that NEVER happened" sense.  This has come into significant play at my new job.  It's not a new job (I've been there since December) but it might as well be new for all that I can recall.  I've met all of the 100+ people in the company, but only know the names of the 6 with whom I work.  This is *very* unusual for me.  Worse, I don't have the sense when someone re-introduces themselves that we've met before; it feels like it is the first time.  It's embarrassing and some people take affront, but also it makes me doubt my ability to interact appropriately with clients and I worry it will my senior management, too.

Happiness:
During the two months I was unemployed last year, I was much more patient with people than I am now.  Why was that?  Was it because I wasn't in a rush to get to or from someplace?  If so, what the h*ll am I in a such a rush to get to or from now?  I still had a job (in a sense) when I was unemployed.  What work was more important than finding a new job? Does that suggest that I value my employer's time more than my own? That I feel this sense of urgency to be at work but did not feel that same urgency (or more!) when I "worked" for myself?  Isn't that twisted? Is it?

I've noticed this most when I'm in the car.  Driving around when I was unemployed was so stress-free.  I didn't need to be anywhere, so I left with plenty of time to get to where I was going.  I didn't rush along the way and was more than content to wait my turn.  These days when I go into the office, my course is plotted like an alpine racer, with corners shaved to the nanosecond.  I know exactly when to switch lanes to avoid the slow down as a result of people looking at the odd construction sign at mile marker 35.  I time my acceleration to make all three green lights.  Heaven have mercy on the Newbie at the tolls who isn't familiar with the change in lane patterns!

Recently, I shattered my precious iphone and have been sans mobile device.  No more checking email every hour at work.  No more calls coming in during the commute.  No more checking for what's nearby or how to get there.  It hasn't helped with my memory or my happiness, but has allowed me to recognize that always looking at that thing was keeping me from disconnecting from work.

I read an article about a woman going through a divorce, whose best friend MADE her start every day with an email that listed 5 Things I'm Grateful For.  Even though the woman eventually found her way out of that darkness, she continues to start every morning with this email to her friend.

So, over the last week, I've been trying this device to both connect with and disconnect from the work day.  I've tried it on the commute into work and on the commute home.  There are rules:

- must be said allowed
- can't have been used earlier that week (or as much as my memory can recall!)
- have to be meaningful (no "I'm grateful for pizza")

To do it well, I really have to focus and get creative.  I can't be running the "systems check" in the background:  call Mom, start laundry, cook chicken, read book club book, send tuition check, etc.  It's what I do in the car, now, instead of looking to see who called or emailed, or trying to see if there's a Sears where I'm headed.  Please note: I did these things at a stop, not while moving.  (Stop hyperventilating, My Beloved.)  But it was like even stopping at a stop light was too long to be static.  I needed to be multitasking in that 1:42 seconds.

It works remarkably well.  I use it more coming home than heading in, but that works out for the best.  I've written before about the importance of a happy ending.  With this exercise, every day has a happy ending.

SLAPP

I heard this on the radio the other day and it put the fear of God into me (and My Beloved).  Since resurrecting this blog, I have kept my more political and controversial opinions to myself.  This and, oh yeah, my Grief, are what have kept me off the blog of late.

I called my local State Farm agent to get me some personal indemnity insurance, but they didn't know what a blog was.  (Good morning, and welcome to 2010!)  I went through the hassle of googling the interviewee and the greater hassle of authenticating to his blog so I could inquire with whom he was able to get insurance.  No response.  Phbbt!

So, anyone know where I can buy personal indemnity insurance?