Brouhaha Rhythm
Animals and I, historically speaking, have had a complicated relationship. I like most of them well enough, but I’m not really the sort of person that feels comfortable approaching someone walking their dog on the street, for example. I guess the awkwardness is mutual, since being approached and petted by someone who clearly isn’t self-confident doesn’t seem to appeal to the animals, either. (A note to the unwillingly single: that applies to humans, as well.)
Squid vs. Whale
They canceled pistol. Really? I know desperate times call for desperate measures, but times must be really desperate if the Institute’s last resort was to anger a bunch of expert marksman. These guys can shoot the clubs out of a playing card from 20 yards, and you want to make them upset? Check the endowment. We must be more broke than Harvard. At least Harvard only had to evict some of the most preeminent biologists in the world to save money.
Brouhaha Rhythm
Here I sit at Walden Pond, known to the literary world as the once-home of Transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. Presumably, what was once a source of inspiration for Thoreau could also serve as inspiration for me, so here I sit with my pen and pad, surrounded by nature and awaiting my muse. Granted, I’m sitting in a van in the parking lot, but the parking lot’s surrounded by nature, and the van’s doors are wide open to admit the singing of birds, a cool New England breeze, and the sound of an ice cream truck playing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Yay, nature.
Ramblings From Hell
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how small I am — not only in stature, but in significance. I am a tiny person on a medium-sized planet in an even larger universe. In the scheme of things, I don’t matter. I am inconsequential.
Talk Nerdy To Me
MIT is full of numbers, from buildings to classes. We’re surrounded by them. Who doesn’t associate with some form of numbers? There are the ones that we always remember: our course numbers, our phone numbers, and our student ID numbers. And then, there are numbers that we choose to forget, like our “count.”
I’ve Got Brouhaha Rhythm
I like going to plays and theatre shows. It makes me feel cultured, the same way that going to movies makes me feel social and going to wild parties makes me feel sullied and vulnerable. I’ve always had an appreciation for the theatre, if only because it’s one of the most genuine forms of narrative entertainment out there. No CGI, no take two, no lip-syncing. There’s a great deal of appeal in the knowledge that each performance is unique, that the performers are walking and/or doing their high-kicks on a tightrope without the safety net of an editing room or stunt double.
30 Minutes with Prof. Gregory C. Fu 85
<i>S. Campbell Proehl:</i> Your lab focuses on asymmetric synthesis and palladium-catalyzed coupling reactions. Could you put this into layman’s terms for the general MIT population?
Take Back the Night
This week is Sexual Assault Awareness Week at MIT. I would like to encourage everyone to not only go to events, but to think about what an event like this means.
Brouhaha Rhythm
I like toothpicks. I think people underestimate the usefulness of toothpicks in everyday situations. They’re useful for opening stubborn plastic packaging, marking one’s place in books, and attending to one’s fingernails in the absence of a proper manicure kit. And, of course, for picking teeth in scenarios where digging at your molars with your pinky nail and flossing with your own hair aren’t socially prudent.
Brouhaha Rhythm
The extent to which one could consider me an avid video gamer depends a great deal on your definition of “avid.” On the one hand, I know the difference between Ico and Ecco, and I always invert the Y-axis on my controller. On the other hand, I’ve never played a Final Fantasy game, and survival horror gives me the heebie-jeebies. (I have weak nerves and weak aim — sue me.) I also try to keep up with what games are being released, so I guess that counts for something, although my laptop isn’t quite on par with what is required to play most of these newfangled computer games.
Ramblings From Hell
I have always had vivid dreams. As a child, my dreams would sometimes be so vibrant that I could not separate them from reality. I would insist to my mother that I had done something, get angry because I had dreamed something was in one place and in real life it wasn’t there, or I would be convinced that certain things had happened to me when they really did not. Man vs. dream: the story of my life.
Talk Nerdy To Me
I just got back from West Virginia. Whenever I’m home and run into a high school friend (which always seems to happen at Wal-Mart), I always ask 3 questions: who’s married?, who’s engaged?, and the big one: who’s pregnant? At least ten of my high school friends are pregnant or already have children. The scary thing is that most of them are my age, and I’m just turning 20 today. After spending time with a friend’s baby, I couldn’t help but wonder if I want kids.
Brouhaha Rhythm
It seems to me that most of our generation agrees that child and pre-teen television programming these days just isn’t as good as it used to be. If that strikes you as a random topic to be writing about, it probably is, but ask around and I suspect you’ll find awareness of it to be more widespread than one might suspect. The quality has simply gone down.
Ramblings From Hell
On Thursday afternoon, I ran into my freshman year roommate. She was the second person I met at MIT, right after I arrived in my room and my temporary roommate and I went down to the lobby to mingle. We have been good friends ever since. Ours is one of those friendships that is based on mutual respect and trust, and not on common values and opinions (she is a conservative Republican and I am a liberal Democrat). I mention her because she is one of those people I like to have around when I want to vent. We will be 1,038 miles apart next year.
Squid Vs. Whale
<b>Scene I: Alexandra and I are having dinner at a swanky bar. I am returning from outside.</b>
Squid vs. Whale
I am a long way from Texas. If I were in Texas, I would not be freezing my balls off. On Friday, the 27th of February, 2009, the high in San Antonio, TX—the city where I grew up—was 92 degrees. I shit you not. 92 degrees. That is six degrees separated from a boy band and hot enough for swimming. Chapstick. That’s how I know I’m a long way from home. Burt’s Bees Wax Pomegranate Lip Balm. It is the greatest thing ever recommended to me—and the reason my lips aren’t bleeding profusely.
Ramblings From Hell
It is Friday night at 8:00 p.m., and I am sitting with crumbs from what was formerly a $16.99 block of parmesan. My cable hasn’t been working for the past two days. This is unfortunate, because I returned to my apartment ten minutes ago filled with the desire to do nothing but finish this parmesan and watch C-SPAN.
Ramblings From Hell
When did snow lose its magic? Last week, when a friend told me it was going to snow, I responded with, “Oh God. Seriously?”
Brouhaha Rhythm
I consider myself extremely fortunate to be living in a metropolitan area with a public transportation system as good as Boston’s, because without it, my horrendous sense of direction and I would have me wandering around Memphis long before I’d find room 7-107 or whatever. That’s Memphis, Tennessee if I bite the bullet and ask for directions and historical downtown Memphis, Egypt, otherwise. Don’t ask me how; I guarantee I’d manage it, one way or another.
