Sad Faces

I think it's no secret that I hate ugly people. It's very difficult for me to face the day with all the horrors it brings me when there are ugly people around. It becomes just too much to bear, you know? I mean, a thunder storm, bad day at lab, cat shits on the carpet... all bearable. But add to that having to interact with an ugly person, and BAM! Unbearable. This is why I refuse to be friends with an ugly person. It's definitely a deal breaker. Unless you have money of course; or a hot mom/dad. Because that means you're probably going to become better looking as you get older, and if you don't, you can at least afford plastic surgery to buy a new... well, face. That said, I draw a very clear distinction between ugly people and people who look sad.

The sad faced person earns my deepest sympathy. I don't know what it is about a person who looks sad all the time that gets me so very blue but it does. I remember there was a girl at Williams who came for a summer and she was extremely weird. Tall, lanky and weird. Her skin had never seen a ray of sunlight. To add to her weirdness, she was allergic to sugar. I kid you not. She was also somewhat rude to me and a bit of a downer overall, but I mean, I gave her a break because how much would it suck to be allergic to sugar?! I would be sad all the time too. And I'd be a bitch, just like she was. But there was something that prevented me from being totally bitchy back to her, and for some reason I remembered her today and I remembered what it was: her face. She had a sort of turned up nose as if to say she scorned the world and everything in it, but more than that, she had a SAD face. The haunting, daunting, sad face.

There is a woman who works at Subway here on Euclid and she too has a sad face. Part of me just wants to walk around the counter and give her a hug and make her a sandwich for a change. I have decided that if I ever were to become very wealthy, I would walk in there and give her a $10,000 tip. Just to make her happy.

I got the opportunity to put a smile on Sad Summer Williams Girl's (SSWG) face on her last night at Williams, and it was very satisfying. Okay, get your mind out of the gutter. I was not that generous. She was actually baking some cookies for someone, which sadly she was unlikely to eat (because she's allergic to f-ing sugar), and she was missing an ingredient: raisins. She was SO pissed because someone had taken her raisins from her storage space. Luckily, I had this phase during my sophomore year where I thought I was a raisin person and bought a whole set of them, only to realize I was actually not a raisin person at all and would never be found just snacking on raisins (who does that anyway?). So I was able to produce a few small packets of raisins, and SSWG's frown turned upside down and she... SMILED. I didn't like her at all, yet I was SO happy. I am weird.

People have theories. I have heard that we hate others most for what they represent of ourselves or something like that. Or we hate others because of our fear that what they represent may be something we're trying to hide or whatever. Hence the idea of the homophobic homo. Like Larry Craig who voted against a federal law that would have prevented employers from discriminating against people based on their sexual orientation. This would have been a regular run-of-the-mill douchey Republican thing to do... had he not also enjoyed smoking anonymous cock under the bathroom stall divider when he wasn't voting to deny himself a job after he got kicked out of the Senate. Ha!

Anyway, maybe sad faced people make me - someone who is used to entertaining, to cheering and to making people laugh - maybe those people set off a little fear inside of me. People who can only very temporarily look happy, and when they do, they seem in pain because of it, make me sad. I want to help them; I want to do whatever it takes to make them happy. This, in a way, is not as selfless as it would seem. I simply want to sleep well at night, and this sad faced person's face is going to haunt me if I don't at least temporarily make them appear happy. Ugh, I am complicated.

Charter Should Go into Banking

Charter Communications is perhaps the biggest sham of a company I have ever known. I think Enron was more honest to their clients than Charter. Regardless, because the bitches have a monopoly in St. Louis, and because St. Louis is sort of like a developing country, albeit poorer and less developed, I am stuck with them for my cable and internet. The good news about sham companies like Charter however, is that just like the amoral banks that make billions off of poor folks, Charter also has no true way of keeping track of all the money they steal from their customers. All they know is that it's a lot. And so they can lose some and they'll still be okay.

Case in point: today when my internet setter upper guy was late, I called Charter and complained that I had lost two hours worth of wages waiting for him and was likely to lose two more. His window of arrival was between 10 and noon, according to the appointment and I called at 12:45pm. So Charter offered me a $20 credit. I politely protested that 20 dollars won't account for four hours worth of lost wages and since they were charging a connection fee, it would be nicer if they credited that amount instead. And you know what? They agreed! They credited me $49.99! Amazing.

Some people might call me an ungrateful asshole and say that this should make me agree that the company is actually not bad, and that it actually does care about its customers, but I beg to differ. Try calling them and you'll see what I mean. They don't even know who is in charge of what in that place. I asked for new internet and one rep told me it would decrease my bill by $1.00 to add internet because they would "bundle" it. So I said, great, let me call back when I am sure I can set up the appointment. I call back about 5 days later and a new rep says it will increase by $45.00. So I ask, how is this possible, that is $46.00 more than what I heard last time. He got annoyed and "double-checked" and then decided it would only go up by $11.00. Eventually we agreed on something between 4 and 10 dollars, which he was sure to inform me was a huge favor. Since when do you barter for an internet price? We do that in Trinidad, but for fish in the market, not for internet!

Just to end, I am pasting an online chat session with Charter reps for your amusement, and in case you suffer from low blood pressure, this is sure to help. The query is legit; they sent me a message by mail the other day about programming your DVR from any computer if you have a Charter internet account. I threw away the letter because at the time I had been "picking up" a "complimentary" wireless signal at home and had no account or any reason to get one. My complimentary signal has since vanished and I had to make other arrangements. The conversation is below. Enjoy.

A representative will be with you shortly. You have been connected to CVW Arnold . CVW Arnold : My name is Arnold, Thank you for contacting Charter Communication. May I have your full name so I may assist you today?

Me: I receieved a letter a few weeks ago explaining how to program my DVR settings (select shows I want to record) from a computer as long as I had DVR and Internet from Charter. I can't find the letter anymore. Can you direct me to a web address where I can get those instructions please?

CVW Arnold : I do apologize You been mistakenly routed, You currently reached the National Sales and Order Department, you will need to Contact Customer service video support group for further assistance at 1-888-438-2427 or I can also Transfer you.

CVW Arnold : I can transfer you

Me: please transfer me

Me: thanks

CVW Arnold has left the session. Please wait while we find an agent from the CHAT - DUMA - Video Support department to assist you.

You have been connected to TTD Francine Jay .

Me: I received a letter a few weeks ago explaining how to program my DVR settings (select shows I want to record) from a computer as long as I had DVR and Internet from Charter. I can't find the letter anymore. Can you direct me to a web address where I can get those instructions please?

TTD Francine Jay : As much as I wanted to help you, it would appear that you have been mistakenly routed to our Billing Department. Our Internet Department would certainly be able to help you out with your concern. Would you like me to transfer you to the right department?

Me: yes, please transfer me

TTD Francine Jay : One moment please while I transfer you to our Internet Department.

TTD Francine Jay has left the session. Please wait while we find an agent from the CHAT - DUMA - HSD Support department to assist you.

You have been connected to TTD Sybil .

TTD Sybil : My name is Sybil. Thank you for contacting Charter's High Speed Internet Support. How may I assist you today?

Me: I received a letter a few weeks ago explaining how to program my DVR settings (select shows I want to record) from a computer as long as I had DVR and Internet from Charter. I can't find the letter anymore. Can you direct me to a web address where I can get those instructions please?

TTD Sybil : It would appear that you are mistakenly routed to the Internet Support. TTD Sybil : I apologize for the inconvenience however, to be able to resolve your concern, please call 1-888-438-2427.

TTD Sybil : Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Me: what is wrong with you people? This is going to be the FOURTH time I have been "mistakenly routed". Is this some sort of joke?

Me: please re-route me to an online agent who can assist me

TTD Sybil : I am very sorry but you need to call.

Me: why is there no agent who can answer a simple questions such as what I am asking?>

Me: it is not that technical

Me: just give me a web address; that is all I am asking. I am not even asking for instructions on how to do it.

Me: this is ridiculous

TTD Sybil : I apologize for the inconvenience.

I quit here

Prelim Decisions are the New Sexuality

So it turns out that my committee won't "use labels" to define what exactly happened to me last Thursday. I didn't fail; that would be harsh. Especially after preparing a 14 page document with about 30 citations and giving a 30 minute presentation that lasted two hours full of slides that they expressly liked. So that's good. What is weird though is that I also did not pass. Nor did I get what is the only other option: a "conditional pass". No, these labels are useless. I cannot be defined. Instead, I am "yet to pass". That is what P. Hanson said to me at the end of my 3 hour ordeal last week; and that sentiment was reiterated in the committee's report where there is no mention of having failed or passed but rather of having a grant that did not go far enough thus placing me "below the passing grade", which incidentally is what most normal people call failing.

This all reminds me of those stupid girls in college who get drunk and go muff diving, only to surface again and say that they are not gay, bi, straight or lesbocious. They refuse to be labelled. They are just American college girls. American college girls who go muff diving once in a while.

Semantics will not distract me. I am "yet to pass" my prelim so life must be put on hold. But I had committed to joining the crew of a new healthy living magazine a woman named Elaine D. is starting here in St. Louis back when I thought I'd have passed my prelim outright, so I am going to that meeting this evening. We're supposed to all gather at the Maplewood Library at 8:00pm today. It should be interesting. Maybe I will be able to write for this magazine and express myself in a healthier way. I am excited to meet the other people because meet and greets are always awkward and I love awkward situations. They make for great blogging. So stay tuned.

In other news, apparently blogging can be therapeutic. In a Newsweek article entitled, "My Shrink says... Blog!", blogging is presented as a way of airing ones problems in a medium with a built-in audience, which can be interpreted by the blogger as achieving some sort of sympathetic response to his problems. "Diaries are a form of that communication, but removed. Blogging gets you closer to that sympathetic audience, and that's what makes it therapeutic."

Sweet. I feel better already.

Check out the rest here: http://www.newsweek.com/id/142630

I hate the world

Or more specifically, I hate the people on my committee. Those bastards gave me a "conditional pass" with the recommendation that I add a third aim to my proposal and come back and present said third aim to them. All of this after my 2 and a half hour grilling this morning, and two weeks after I handed in my written grant. So basically, I was screwed the moment I walked into that room because no matter what I did or how well I did it, the proposal would still be only 2/3 of what they think is good enough to constitute a grant. And they waited until 1:00pm this afternoon to tell me this. This is the way the molecular cell biology program at Wash U functions. Or does not function. However you wish to look at it. I hate them so much. So very, very much.

Game Time!

Comrades, the hour is upon us. I am to be taken from my quarters at sunrise (okay, fine, 9:30 or so). I will be carrying upon my back the enormous crucifix of 10 weeks of mind-wrenching research about the nature, form and structure of liposomes and their ability to either hemi- or fully-fuse with each other under specific conditions. The people of Bethlehem or Euclid, whichever way you choose to pronounce it, will react to me in a mixed manner. Some may spit at me. Some may offer me water. Some may even attempt to carry my crucifix for me. Alas, I shall arrive at the 10th hour before the Council of Elders who will proceed to flagellate me and pierce me with their nails. I will also be wearing a crown of thorns because it just seems appropriate.

I have prepared myself for the worst case scenario tomorrow. I am prepared to walk into the room and have P. Hanson spit at me and punch me in the face. Next, I am thinking P. Schlesinger will throw a chair at me, while S. Dutcher holds me in a headlock and knees me in the balls. Finally, D. Ory will light fire to my ass. Now that I am prepared for this epic battle, I am quite sure that nothing any of these eminent scholars say to me tomorrow will be so bad. And so, hopefully, I will be able to sleep tonight. And tomorrow, I shall not cry when faced with them.

I have chosen a black shirt, a pair of khaki pants, a brown belt, a brown tie and a pair of brown shoes for tomorrow's presentation. Picture it; it's a glorious sight. I have already tried them on and I'd dare say they look pretty damn good. So, in case I should have a serious meltdown, at the very least I will look good melting down. I wouldn't fail a kid who wore a tie to his prelim; would you? (Don't answer that, Cailz).

Pray for me.

I am scurred

The last time I had to do a qualifying exam, I passed it. That was because it was the second time I was taking the exam, having failed it the first time. I remember sitting in intro MCB with John Cooper who welcomed us to grad school and announced quite emphatically that in grad school, grades don't matter. I remember sitting in that class the next year and again hearing him say the same thing and thinking what a big piece of bullshit that was. Anwyay, that is behind me. But now I have to worry about my very terrifying next half of the qualifiers coming up on Thursday. That's an oral exam and to be honest, I am scurred. Very scurred. The rules are basically that you prepare and write a 10 page grant on a research topic unrelated to your lab work, in the format of an NIH post doctoral fellowship application. It consists of a brief abstract, a hypothesis and two or three specific aims to test the hypothesis, and then the methods by which you will carry out the specific aims. Two weeks before you defend it, you hand in the written part and then you present a 20-25 minute talk outlining what you wrote before a committee of 4 professors. I am shitting bricks. But I have some good news.

Last night I dreamnt I failed it. Why is that good news? Because every dream I have been having so far has been turning out to be true... in the opposite. A few nights ago, I dreamt I got the cancer bio fellowship I was forced to apply for on very short notice and which I was sure I wasn't going to get. Turned out I did not get it. Then I dreamt I drowned on the float trip. Turns out I almost drowned, but not quite. So now, since I dreamt I failed my prelim, I am actually quite relieved. Had I passed in that dream, I would be very worried right now. But I am still scurred. I should go finish working on the presentation now. Regardless of the outcome, I shall keep you informed.

Access Checks My Ass

Do not EVER use those ripoff "access checks" Bank of America or any other bank may send you in the mail. I thought I was so financially savvy when I discovered I could use an "access check" to pay a merchant that does not take Visa, such as my mofo leasing office. I thought, "great, I'll get 750 world points every month and after 10 years of this, I can get 10 dollars cold hard cash!" Just to be safe, I called the bank and they confirmed that yes, indeed, this is true. Furthermore, I clarified that if I paid my future transaction ahead of time, I would not be charged any transaction fees. So I went ahead and wrote my rent check of $750, only after putting $800 on the card ahead of time. I figured I could use the other 50 to pay a bill or something.

Anyway, so today I check my account and lo and behold those bitches have charged my poor brown ass a 3% transaction fee. That is $22.50! As I dialed the number at the back of the card, all I could hear in my head was OH HELL NO! Over, and over, and over. I was FUMING!

I spoke with a Mr. Eldrige Holloway who was very polite but firm in telling me that the fee is written in the agreement and that I chose to use the checks and therefore that was too bad. But being a Trini, I knew that good old Eldrige, being the man who first answered the phone after the annoying prompts, could not possibly be the head honcho, so I politely told Mr. H to stick it, and to hand me over to someone more powerful. He obliged and after 15 minutes of classical music, I was speaking with Warren Smith, a manager. I threatened to close my account when I was speaking to Ellie, but adopted a more conciliatory tone with Mr. Manager. I instead told him that as a customer for 2 years who has never paid a single payment late, I think that it would be a good faith move for the bank to credit me back my $22.50. I didn't consider that the bank, being the Satanic Abyss of Financial Doom that it is, actually WANTS me to pay my bills late so I can pay them interest, so this was probably not something to try to sell myself on, but it seemed like a good pitch at the time.

And guess what... it worked! The manager agreed to credit my account back $22.50! Great success! So by midnight tonight I am supposed to be $22.50 richer, which would have been nice had I not been $22.50 poorer because of the whole incident to begin with. Regardless, those 22 dollars and 50 cents are MINE and I am not going to let some nasty bank try to take them away from me. And neither should you!

I told you so

I am one of those people who loves to be able to say, after the fact, "I told you so." It really makes me happy. So, just in case, I would like to propose my choice for Barack Obama's VP. If it is not Hillary Clinton, I am proposing that it should be Senator Chuck Hagel. Go do some research on who Chuck Hagel is. For starters, he's a Republican and he's one of the few who started off as pro-war and is now very much against the war. He would be a good pick because of the abovementioned reasons, but also he is a white man. Barack needs a white man as his running mate. I don't like Hillary and hope he does not choose her.