What Happens On the 13th?...

...it is still happening. i am marking the undergrad finals. i knew this pile of exams would eventually haunt me after the madness, so as i was composing the final, it seemed that inditement of a narcissistic bonus question would be quite appropriate in maintaining (regaining) my sanity. Indeed, it has become more for my enjoyment now than for their marks and well being. It seems to have served both purposes.

i realize some of them shouldn't have spent their talents in bacterial biochemistry and physiology, as there are clearly better ways for them to use their mad skillz. Enjoy the wit.

Spectrophotometry and Yip,
Genomic expression is hip.
Lab reports are delivered on time,
She doesn't nickel and dime.
She's the grandmaster of CMMB,
Rocking around with Hynes (the emcee).
Enterotoxic pathogenic pneumococci,
Aseptic tequnique and she doesn't bat an eye.
- JM



Cynthia, la gentille tuteur de TP,
Ne m'a jamais saque,
Bien que mon anglais no sait pas parfait,
Et que le premier lab, je ne l'ai meme pas rappe!

J'ai done passe un excellent moment,
Meme si parfois j'ai en du mal a me mettre dedans,
Et que je ne les ai pas toujours rendu a temps,
Les "lab report," elle les a toujours corriges gentillement!

Merci Cynthia,
Je ne t'oublierai pas,
Car grace a toi,
Cette matiere je ne la raterai pas!
-JP



CMMB443.
Lab of bacteria.
Our TA is Cynthia.
She has long black hair,
Very pretty, and about us she cares.
Adorned with many rings,
I love those funky things.
-DL

And some limericks.

A limerick...By EW.
Ode to my laboratory instructor.
My TA, miss Yip,
Is cool, fun, and hip.
She taught us a real neat lab,
All the while she was so fab.
I'll miss thee, miss Yip!



There once was a TA named Yip,
Who was oh-so-incredibly hip;
Her labs never got boring,
For this we're adoring,
And wish we could leave her a tip!
-NJ

And when i am done this, and submit their marks and file away the exams, then it is time for the Fake Blood, red lips, and high heels.

Bones Floating In The Sound

It has been cruelly disagreeable as of late. i have not seen the light of day, the pleasing nights, my charming friends, or a good scotch in a very long time. And it continues, one painfully consequential task endlessly linked to the next, until December 13th.

And then, i will sleep in, tucked under my covers. And i will cook a wonderful meal, lit up with wine and tea and candles, listen to forgotten cds, read absolutely non-scientific literature, smoke cigarettes for pleasure instead of stress, write long letters in ink handwriting, and watch old movies in bed. And i'll paint my nails and my lips, and brush my ratty hair, and step out in skyscraper shoes to dance and lounge with my friends and friends i have yet to meet late into the morning.

Until then.

Today, a student of mine surprised me in my lab. She baked me vegan cookies.

One of Us Will Die Inside These Arms

weeping in a ballroom by cy

And I've Been Buying My Time On My Knees

i can't write worth shit. Fuck.

The City That You Know Don't Want You 'Round

It may seem that i have forgotten this little spot, but i have not.

i have just been a little lost. i have just been hiding in dark places. and i have been chain smoking. i have been perched, waiting for the world to pass its nights and days by me. i just stayed here. But i really want to go.

But there is no where to go here. It is a wasteland of story-high cranes and concrete skeletons amongst the knocked-down buildings and the giant holes that have replaced them. The crosswalks are closed everywhere and the city of a million persons is deserted. When the city remembers the wealth it has on the week's end, it drives itself downtown and drinks itself to death in the bars lit with large television screens.

"More than a million!," our baby-faced mayor and the developers chant. The inner city condos are selling as fast as the suburban thick-lawned, cookie-cut houses sprawled almost an hour away.

i run out to my old standbys to remember but leave early every time. i walk back to the little apartment and it isn't even midnight.

So i hide idle.

So Tired Of Playing With This Bow And Arrow

Most people turn introspective this time of year, reflecting upon all the tribulations they have overcome and the improvements that will follow. i, on the other hand, threw up in a champagne glass.

So this is the new year - the year anew.