Why are pages 72 and 73 stuck together...?

For my birthday my Uncle Rob handed me and my twin two books for our birthday; Emotional Intelligence: Why it can matter more than IQ and How to make your wealth.

"One of these books changed my life." Rob proclaimed.

Of course, my Uncle has both wealth and what would appear to be inpecable self confidence. Although it would be nice to think that this Emotional Intelligence book is life altering, my money is on the wealth book for him.

Anyhow, I've started reading Emotional Intelligence (of course, I started not from the beginning, but to what appeared to be a more interesting chapter). I get little chance of reading anymore, so a self-help book is something new for me.

The book challenges:
Just imagine you're four years old, and someone makes the following proposal: If you'll wait until after he runs an errand, you can can two marshmellows for a treat. If you can't wait until then, you can have only one - but you can have it right now.

Thinking back to that age, I remember how terrible my memory is and realize that I am no good at this whole thinking back business. I won't try that again. :)
But all in all, I probably would have waited for both marshmellows. The test is the ultimate battle between impulse and restraint. Those who restrain their self-gratification will reap the rewards, as the story goes. The kids in a real-life test who waited actually lived more productive, self-adjusted lives when older, when compared to those who acted upon impulse. They were better students and more social.
I may not be social. but I am at least a good student. I can't wait until I obtain some four year olds so I can perform this test. Try it out at home, with your kids or those of strangers. If the kid snatches the marshmellow, insist to the parents that the child is evil (but say it "eve-yil" and point at them directly) and that statistics show that they will more or less likely develop into a delinquent.

I think I may start on the 'how to get wealthy' book soon... but meanwhile I am using a chewing gum wrapper as a bookmark for my emotional insecurity bashing book. Go figure.

William John.

Mein Science Kampf...

Things seem to be going my way in the lab for the time being. I am getting some good data, but there is so much work to be done. I am getting through my lab log book real quick, and I like flipping through it to see how neat it is. Of course, it's the content that counts.

"Glutaredoxin interacts with the atx1 knockout how exactly?"
My Laboratory Log Book.

Anyhow, I planned on making this a longer post, but it is 9:50pm and I think I'm in for an early night to try and shake away my tiredness and the feeling as though I am developing a cold. (which is possible, because practically everyone at the lab has come down with a nice flu that knocks them out for a few days. Grrr. I hope that's not it.)

William John.

186,000 miles a second of atonement...

"Hello", I answer with a sheepish grin. I know who is on the other end of the line; my stalker from London. We'd organized the call the night before, but it's always a shock to have to open my eyes to try and find the phone.

Every morning God sends this massive wave (or particle field) of light through my window to destroy my eyes. Someone has apparantly ticked him off that I am a heathen and I deserve this kind of shoddy treatment. I shake my fist at the sky.

SFL answers back, in a teletubbie-like manner. "Huuulllloooo". He always says it like that. It makes me smile. I wonder if he says it that way to everyone, or if I'm just special. He proceeds to use words such as "trolleybus", "naff" and phrases like "you're such a wally".

We talk for another hour, until he realizes that it is 1am his time and that if he doesn't go to sleep soon he won't be able to get up in time for a possible porn flick set up; men delivering wares for the pending renovations of his bathroom. Not very romantic, I must admit, but it still works.

I try my best to keep him on the line, but I just can't win. SFL used to run like an energizer battery with only 2 hours sleep. I've tired him out with my incessant "shut up... I'm watching TV" talk. It's a shame that our time zones intersect around prime time, there is so much of (sitcom) life that I have missed out on. Where did Everyone Loves Raymond go? Are those new episodes of Frasier I see on Channel 9? Yes. Yes they are. And this one had Bebe in it, Frasier's evil agent. And Dr. Phil has made a guest appearance.

Anyhow, I have a another phone appointment is only so many hours, so I better get up and get ready for the day and get into the lab. So much time and so little to do. No, scrub that and reverse it. (And you'll have nothing because you scrubbed it. Sigh...)

William John.

Rainy days and blog whores...

I know that this isn't that important... well, it isn't at all important... but, I was watching Sesame Street the other day and the Count got all the way to number 12 on his organ. It was terribly hard to keep up. I am unsure if I should continue to watch that show without guidance of my calculator. Anyhow, noone at work seemed to care that the day was brought to us by the number 12. Sometimes the people I work with can be such jerks. Maybe if I had of told them in mathematical equation form to see if they could have worked it out? I wonder when the good Count will reach across his expanses and bring a little trigonometry into things. ;)

I've been listening to a lot of Carpenters in recent days. SFL (Stalker From London) sent me a Gold Edition CD (is there any other kind?), and it has become a favorite (albeit forced) at the lab. (Hey, if anyone knows some good "sciency" songs to put on a CD, let me know. I've been meaning to make one, but is all I can come up with is Monster Mash and She Blinded Me With Science ... which makes me think of this girl at Uni who's eyes were badly affected by a concentrated bottle of acid she was handling. She had to run to the eye wash station.)

I wonder if SFL realizes how sad all these songs are? It's miserable weather here in Melbourne... freezing as hell, always raining and cloudy... I'm listening to Karen Carpenter, and my work life is hanging by a thread. A Carpenters CD is practically a jab at my jugular with a pirate sword as I edge further down the plank.

No... just kidding. I love the CD. Jambalaya, crawlfish pie. Cherry gumbo. Pick guitar, frou-frou jar and big-gay-oh. (OK, so I don't know some of the words... but they're nonsensical anyway! I probably did get them right for all I know.

(***Side note: why do my fingers smell like that yellow mustard stuff you put in sandwiches? Well, they don't always, but at this very moment they do. I think it's a mix of a lot of nice smells that have amalgamated into an unpleasant odor. Sigh... Grrr. Not happy Jan.***)

Hey, I just noticed that Hanuman thinks I'm hot. Touché, Hanuman. Touché ... you blog whore. :)

William John.
PS. I do need to update more often. My apologies. Do I get some lenience though for giving you a sweet mention? :o)

Medicate yourself, girl...!

Life really has become slow motion. In trying to get experiments to work and having them fail, I am constantly looking forward to the weekends... in which I go into the lab and do more work. It is all what I expected, but if only things worked now and then, it would be a little more uplifting. Sigh...

Anyhow, today I found a bag of salted peanuts that someone left lying around, so it wasn't a complete waste. (I'm getting over the whole 'don't eat food you find laying around a microbiology lab' thing that I used to be afflicted with. Are we proud? :o)

Besides that, I've had a little bit of housemate trouble (again!) over the past week. The darling dear who resides in the room next to mine decided to complain to the owner because I talk on the phone too late. I agreed that I would cut back. (Remembering back to some of the smutty conversations SFL and I were involved in, it's not hard to see why she was a little upset... but that doesn't make her actions right, especially when she could just as well have approached me.)

Anyhow, the other day I was talking on the phone at 8:30pm, and this girl (are you technically a girl at 30?) storms into my room, all red faced and upset telling me off for being on the phone and being an inconsiderate jerk. (It's not my job to make sure this girl takes her meds, right?! GRrr!). I tried to talk to her to find out what was wrong but she slammed her door in my face and locked it, not giving me the opportunity. Anyhow, she ended up apologizing a few days later and telling me she 'might move on from the house'. I feel minorly guilty, but not to the point of dissuasion.

Oh, I also got around to washing my new underwear. So white and supportive. Mmm... :o)

William John.