Well, Friday started off on a bad note. Non-stop hard hard rain. Pour, pour, pour, and I debated this morning whether to actually don my rain gear to bike to work. I ultimately did, feeling confident and rather giddy at my tomboyishness to brave the forces of nature.
Biking along a major street (in the bike lane), a car coming out of an alleyway noses out in front of me, blocking the bike lane completely and sticking its head out past the lane into the actual roadway. The driver first looked away from me, for traffic oncoming from the other side of the road. Then he turned and looked straight at me. I saw him hesitate for a second, then decide to let up on his brakes, preparing to pull out in front of me.
At first, I hit my bike brakes because obviously I don't want to run into his car. Then in a moment of boldness, I am pissed off. Why should I avoid him?? He is the one turning into my path. I totally have the right of way going straight, and he should not be turning to cut me off just because I am a bike. I have every right to be on the road, and he needs to respect that. So I let up my brakes, pedal, and swerve around the front of his car.
As I am going by him, he gestures madly at me. I throw up my hands with a "What the fuck" face, and keep riding.
He turns, pulls up next to my bike, and rolls down his windows, starking mad. Before he has a chance to speak, I yell, still pedaling, "Dude, I have the right of way. I was going straight."
He counters with something about the fact that he "was stopped". I didn't catch everything he said, and what I caught made no sense at all. What? Because he's stopped, he has the right of way? I clearly had the right of way, going straight on my road. He was coming out of an alleyway, so it wasn't an intersection with rules for who goes first. He clearly did not have the right of way, wanting to turn on to my road. He needs to yield to traffic on the road, and that includes bike traffic traveling in the bike lane.
At this point, we had come to a red light. It was my intersection, so I ignored whatever else argument he was making, made a right turn to continue on my way to work.
The exchange made me so mad. I wanted to exact some kind of vigilante justice. I wanted to beat some sense into the guy: he would never have even thought to pull out in front of a car, and similarly, he has no right to pull out in front of me even if I am "just a bike".
And thus continues the saga of motorists & bikers in a supposedly bike-friendly city.
It's mid-afternoon now, and actually Friday's not turned out so bad. It is still gross out, raining nonstop all day. But a labmate I don't always get along with just went out of her way to tell me about an event happening tonight that I might be interested in. I did already know about it (and was debating going), but her genuineness inspired me to pretend that I didn't know and to show equally genuine appreciation that she would think to pass the information along.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
the not-so-wondrous read
I'm reading the most popular Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. It's been hyped and re-hyped, and I was so looking forward to it. However, I am finding it really hard to get into. At page 25, I thought it was just because I hadn't read enough. Now at page 100, I'm no more excited about the book than I was back at 25.
The book doesn't capture me, which in general would be fine, I think. Except in this case, I feel unusually self-conscious about the book's lack of charm on me. It makes me feel that perhaps somehow this is because I am culturally insensitive and ignorant.
I can't relate to Oscar and his family as much as I would like, or as much as I perceive someone who LOVES the book would. More than anything, I can't relate to Oscar the way I think a Carribbean would. The book reads fast, almost stream of consciousness kind of fast (though certainly not disjointed). But what bothers me are the short little phrases or observations or exclamations that the characters regularly blurt out in Spanish. They are barriers to me. I have no idea what they mean and certainly would have no shot at relating to them culturally. While they are seldom central to the plot of the book, I nonetheleses feel alienated.
My gut tells me that part of the critical acclaim for the book probably stems from the cultural richness of the book, but all of that is lost on me, which makes me feel like a bad bad person. Why is it that I am just plain uninterested in Carribbean culture? Am I somehow subconsciously racist? None of this is helped by the most recent election poll and somehow fearing that if I had taken that poll, I would have discovered an ugly subconscious in myself.
But, but, but, I argue with myself, I became engrossed with the plight of minorities and women in Afghanistan after reading Khaled Hosseini, and the issues in Northern Pakistan after reading Three Cups of Tea. I was fascinated by Kabul and even pondered the possibilities to travel to that part of the world (and pondered the hindrances I would face as a woman if I ever tried to attempt what Greg Mortenson did). Those stories moved me, regardless of the cultural and ethnicity of the characters. I am no more Afghan than I am Pakistani than I am Dominican.
So maybe I just don't particularly like Diaz's writing style?
He is doing a community reading of his book this week. I feel like I should go, if only to garner a deeper appreciation of the culture surrounding book, and maybe in person, he can verbally express the printed words in an affecting way for me.
I'm really not sure if I'll finish the book, which seems like such a shame. I am told that it is good.
The book doesn't capture me, which in general would be fine, I think. Except in this case, I feel unusually self-conscious about the book's lack of charm on me. It makes me feel that perhaps somehow this is because I am culturally insensitive and ignorant.
I can't relate to Oscar and his family as much as I would like, or as much as I perceive someone who LOVES the book would. More than anything, I can't relate to Oscar the way I think a Carribbean would. The book reads fast, almost stream of consciousness kind of fast (though certainly not disjointed). But what bothers me are the short little phrases or observations or exclamations that the characters regularly blurt out in Spanish. They are barriers to me. I have no idea what they mean and certainly would have no shot at relating to them culturally. While they are seldom central to the plot of the book, I nonetheleses feel alienated.
My gut tells me that part of the critical acclaim for the book probably stems from the cultural richness of the book, but all of that is lost on me, which makes me feel like a bad bad person. Why is it that I am just plain uninterested in Carribbean culture? Am I somehow subconsciously racist? None of this is helped by the most recent election poll and somehow fearing that if I had taken that poll, I would have discovered an ugly subconscious in myself.
But, but, but, I argue with myself, I became engrossed with the plight of minorities and women in Afghanistan after reading Khaled Hosseini, and the issues in Northern Pakistan after reading Three Cups of Tea. I was fascinated by Kabul and even pondered the possibilities to travel to that part of the world (and pondered the hindrances I would face as a woman if I ever tried to attempt what Greg Mortenson did). Those stories moved me, regardless of the cultural and ethnicity of the characters. I am no more Afghan than I am Pakistani than I am Dominican.
So maybe I just don't particularly like Diaz's writing style?
He is doing a community reading of his book this week. I feel like I should go, if only to garner a deeper appreciation of the culture surrounding book, and maybe in person, he can verbally express the printed words in an affecting way for me.
I'm really not sure if I'll finish the book, which seems like such a shame. I am told that it is good.
Friday, September 19, 2008
jobs and the economy and a confession
I couldn't believe the news about Lehman Brothers. Poof, gone. After a century and a half. Same with Bear Stearns a few months ago.
It's made even more surreal because once upon a time, I was one of those bright-eyed, bushy-tailed college graduates thinking I wanted to do investment banking. I actually had job offers with both Lehman and Bear coming out of college. I turned them down for my current gig.
Why did I want to do i-banking? Honestly, because it was a job I knew I could get and that I knew I could do. They try to scare you, talking about 100-hours work weeks. But what did that mean to me at 21, 22? It was almost a challenge. Me? Of course I can stay up all night every night. Of course I am hard core. She can do it, so can I. I want to be a rat.
Such naivete.
Which is something to learn from for my current job search now. Yes, I will definitely leave my current position and get a new job. In finding something new, I don't want to fall into the same mindset I had coming out of college: get a job because I know I can. I want a job that motivates me, something that gets me excited to get out of bed every morning.
I have a lot of choices, I think, and it's job search season.
And here, I have a confession to make about my current job. I talk about it as a job because, well, it sort of is, and I wanted to stay as anonymous as possible. But when it comes down to it, calling it a job is misleading. It's not a job.
I am a graduate student, a PhD student. I work in a lab on a thesis project and no longer take classes, so my thesis is my job. I get a stipend, like a salary, though it's pretty low-paying. I interact with my lab (my office, division, colleagues, whatever else I've been calling it). I interact with other offices and labs within my school.
I've been calling my school my company, and my thesis advisor my boss. I originally thought it would be easy to translate problems in lab and at school to problems at work to talk about in this blog, but it's actually been pretty difficult. I often want to write about sentiments and perspectives and difficulties I encounter, but then realize that they are unique to a student mindset. So I end up writing nothing because it's hard to "anonymize" my grad student experience. And times when I do anonymize and try to adapt the events and happenings to a more work-relevant situation, I feel fake, and I feel that it's not believable.
I feel like some of you may have already guessed that something wasn't quite right about my job? Did you? Things like office mates talking openly about looking for other jobs just aren't things that people in actual jobs experience, right. Taking time off from a job is not usually a viable option for a reagular 9-to-5, but of course, I was talking about doing a summer internship or taking off a semester to work. I felt like you guys must have wondered why my job was so weirdly flexible and knew that something was off.
So which school? I don't think I'll reveal that explicitly, but I'm sure those of you with IP-enabled visit trackers can figure that out quite easily. Which program? Well, it's just say it's science and engineering related.
Anyway, back to jobs. Our big fall job fair was this week, and I walked around, handing out resumes, and I actually got an interview straight from the fair. Problem is that it's one of those jobs where my motivation is unclear. Do I really want to do it? Or do I just want it to say to people I work at a well-known prestigious place?
It's made even more surreal because once upon a time, I was one of those bright-eyed, bushy-tailed college graduates thinking I wanted to do investment banking. I actually had job offers with both Lehman and Bear coming out of college. I turned them down for my current gig.
Why did I want to do i-banking? Honestly, because it was a job I knew I could get and that I knew I could do. They try to scare you, talking about 100-hours work weeks. But what did that mean to me at 21, 22? It was almost a challenge. Me? Of course I can stay up all night every night. Of course I am hard core. She can do it, so can I. I want to be a rat.
Such naivete.
Which is something to learn from for my current job search now. Yes, I will definitely leave my current position and get a new job. In finding something new, I don't want to fall into the same mindset I had coming out of college: get a job because I know I can. I want a job that motivates me, something that gets me excited to get out of bed every morning.
I have a lot of choices, I think, and it's job search season.
And here, I have a confession to make about my current job. I talk about it as a job because, well, it sort of is, and I wanted to stay as anonymous as possible. But when it comes down to it, calling it a job is misleading. It's not a job.
I am a graduate student, a PhD student. I work in a lab on a thesis project and no longer take classes, so my thesis is my job. I get a stipend, like a salary, though it's pretty low-paying. I interact with my lab (my office, division, colleagues, whatever else I've been calling it). I interact with other offices and labs within my school.
I've been calling my school my company, and my thesis advisor my boss. I originally thought it would be easy to translate problems in lab and at school to problems at work to talk about in this blog, but it's actually been pretty difficult. I often want to write about sentiments and perspectives and difficulties I encounter, but then realize that they are unique to a student mindset. So I end up writing nothing because it's hard to "anonymize" my grad student experience. And times when I do anonymize and try to adapt the events and happenings to a more work-relevant situation, I feel fake, and I feel that it's not believable.
I feel like some of you may have already guessed that something wasn't quite right about my job? Did you? Things like office mates talking openly about looking for other jobs just aren't things that people in actual jobs experience, right. Taking time off from a job is not usually a viable option for a reagular 9-to-5, but of course, I was talking about doing a summer internship or taking off a semester to work. I felt like you guys must have wondered why my job was so weirdly flexible and knew that something was off.
So which school? I don't think I'll reveal that explicitly, but I'm sure those of you with IP-enabled visit trackers can figure that out quite easily. Which program? Well, it's just say it's science and engineering related.
Anyway, back to jobs. Our big fall job fair was this week, and I walked around, handing out resumes, and I actually got an interview straight from the fair. Problem is that it's one of those jobs where my motivation is unclear. Do I really want to do it? Or do I just want it to say to people I work at a well-known prestigious place?
Monday, September 15, 2008
updates galore
1) I got one of those mass update emails that start with "As many of you already know ... ". Well, since everyone was bcc'ed, it could have just been 5 recipients. Or 500. The problem is that I didn't already know. What does that mean? My gut reaction was to feel wholly inadequate. How could I not know? What kind of a friend am I? But then I got annoyed that I got the followup email but was not in the know from the start.
2) A hotel in DC stole my favorite pair of jeans. Broadway and I stayed at a fancy hotel he got off of PriceLine, and we were in a bit of a rush the morning we checked out, and left a shirt of his and my jeans. When we called housekeeping, they had his shirt, but said that they didn't find any jeans. We are both baffled by the situation. Upon explaining it to one of Broadway's roommates, he asked me "What brand of jeans were they?" I said, "Err, I don't know. They just fit me the best out of all of my jeans." Do jeans have to have brands nowadays? Seven jeans cost $100+. I'd be upset if I lost one of those, but I'm more upset that I lost a pair of jeans that fit me perfectly.
3) My new favorite word is now "clusterfuck". Broadway and I saw the new Coens Brothers movie, Burn After Reading. Towards the end, one of the very minor roles says "Wow, what a clusterfuck." The whole movie is a clusterfuck, if ever the word could be used in a positive connotation. It's so random, insane, and completely awesome and entertaining.
4) Our division has around 20 people or so. One of the other women sent out an email wanting to do a "Girl's Night Out." Now I feel caught between a rock and a hard place. I don't particularly like hanging out with all of these people. There are ones I like, but I get the feeling that the people who would go to this Girls Night Out would be the ones I can't stand. Yet, I don't want to seem like a complete non-team-player. And generally, I just don't really like these forced "Girl's Night" social outings. Of the 20, some 12 or 13 are women. Don't we usually do girls night out when we're in the extreme minority and somehow need to spend time together away from the men? Anyway, I told some of the guys in our lab that they should organize a "Boy's Night Out" in protest. But don't tell anyone I gave them the idea.
2) A hotel in DC stole my favorite pair of jeans. Broadway and I stayed at a fancy hotel he got off of PriceLine, and we were in a bit of a rush the morning we checked out, and left a shirt of his and my jeans. When we called housekeeping, they had his shirt, but said that they didn't find any jeans. We are both baffled by the situation. Upon explaining it to one of Broadway's roommates, he asked me "What brand of jeans were they?" I said, "Err, I don't know. They just fit me the best out of all of my jeans." Do jeans have to have brands nowadays? Seven jeans cost $100+. I'd be upset if I lost one of those, but I'm more upset that I lost a pair of jeans that fit me perfectly.
3) My new favorite word is now "clusterfuck". Broadway and I saw the new Coens Brothers movie, Burn After Reading. Towards the end, one of the very minor roles says "Wow, what a clusterfuck." The whole movie is a clusterfuck, if ever the word could be used in a positive connotation. It's so random, insane, and completely awesome and entertaining.
4) Our division has around 20 people or so. One of the other women sent out an email wanting to do a "Girl's Night Out." Now I feel caught between a rock and a hard place. I don't particularly like hanging out with all of these people. There are ones I like, but I get the feeling that the people who would go to this Girls Night Out would be the ones I can't stand. Yet, I don't want to seem like a complete non-team-player. And generally, I just don't really like these forced "Girl's Night" social outings. Of the 20, some 12 or 13 are women. Don't we usually do girls night out when we're in the extreme minority and somehow need to spend time together away from the men? Anyway, I told some of the guys in our lab that they should organize a "Boy's Night Out" in protest. But don't tell anyone I gave them the idea.
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