Circular Conversation

One thing about Oberlin that I find great, is the plethora of activities happening on any given day. When I was looking at colleges, one of my biggest concerns was having enough to do in Ohio. From what I knew, Ohio was all cornfields and cows. Although I still find that to be true, the amount of Facebook invitations I receive on a daily basis is unreal. There are workshops, socials, sporting events, performances at the 'Sco, you name it. There are so many things going on at all times, that really, it's impossible to be bored.

What amazes me, is that with all the things to do, a common pastime at Oberlin is sitting in circles. Yes, sitting in circles. People sit in circles on North Quad, people sit in circles on Wilder Bowl. People sit in circles on weekdays, people sit in circles during the weekend. Why? Well, I have a theory.

Here at Oberlin, we are as involved as college students get. Everyone has a cause, everyone has a passion, and everyone has at least two majors. Personally knowing how it feels to be busy beyond all belief, I know sometimes taking a study break consists of doing absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except apparently sitting in a circle.

I believe that as Oberlin students, although we are busy out of our minds, we know it's okay to take the time to do things that matter. One of those things, is to have intellectual conversations, just for the sake of talking. With cell phones, Facebook, email, and all the other things we do to preoccupy our time, many people forget how fulfilling good conversation can be. It doesn't have to be about quantum physics, but anything that makes us think about the world we live in and analyze the world of tomorrow will suffice.

So as we graduate and become the future that is so often spoken of, I hope we remember to take the time to remember the important things. As silly as it seems, sitting in circles gives me hope that as Oberlin students, we all possess the ability to make a difference and will be successful in bettering whatever cause we choose.

"OMG, it's Tappan Square!"

In the last few months, I've noticed that a common trait us Obies all possess is that art of explanation. I mean, before I was even accepted I found myself giving a condensed history of Oberlin College every time somebody asked me where I was applying. I believe that's when I realized I really loved Oberlin. Honestly, you've got to love a place if you don't mind convincing everyone you know it's a real school.

As much as I love it here, I wonder how the rest of the country perceives Oberlin. Are we really even on the map? I don't know about the rest of the United States, but when I'm home in Miami, Florida, I mention Oberlin and people look at me like I'm talking about Hogwarts School of Witch and Wizardry. For awhile, my friends even joked that Oberlin was my excuse to really take a year off from high school before furthering my education.

This past summer I had an internship in San Francisco, and since a ton of Obies hail from the Bay Area, I figured I would finally be in a place where people would recognize the name and even know a little bit about the school. Truth is, although I didn't get as many blank stares, Oberlin was still "some ambiguous hippie school where nobody wore shoes." So disappointing.

Upon arriving back to campus in mid-August, I guess I had come to terms with Oberlin being this unknown, imaginary place to the rest of real world. I figured as long as I knew it's brilliance, what the general population thought was negligible.

The weekend before classes started, the volleyball team packed up and headed for Wisconsin for a two-day tournament. The morning before our first game, we were sitting and eating breakfast in the lobby, when we heard mention of Oberlin College on the television. Someone turned up the volume, and we all crowded around the set thrilled to see that on CNN there was a story being aired about our school. The story talked about how the college has a program to provide funds for students who live in Oberlin to attend the college. Honestly, it was just so cool.

That moment kind of opened my eyes. Since then, I worry less about how well known the name is, and think more about the great things that this establishment is doing for its students. We're all just so lucky. I'm just saying, if CNN recognizes the name on my diploma, I think I'll get by just fine in the real world.

There's no such thing as goodbye.

Which is something I keep reminding myself. It's 10:22 pm and my last night in San Francisco. If I've ever had to say goodbye to you, you know I hate it and it usually results in lots of tears. I think I prepared myself for this one though, by beginning to cope with my departure last Tuesday. Really, I actually have an okay mindset about it. When I first got here, I'm not going to lie, I wasn't quite sure what the hoop-la was all about. And even through the beginning of July, the East Coast just seemed better. But somehow, without even realizing it, I grew to really love this city. I feel like I've changed so much and learned myself so much better, in ways I can't even fully explain yet. Maybe I'm ready to move on because I've learned the things I needed to learn and I'm ready to attack the rest of my life with this newfound mentality. Whatever it is, I like it.

I'm so thankful for my San Francisco family, and so thankful for Rocket letting me be apart of this wonderful family. I don't know how I keep getting lucky enough to become close with great people, but trust me I appreciate where luck has landed me. It's good to know that although home is in Miami, it's also in D.C., and now San Francisco. And just like I have my own personal slice of the DMV at school, I get to wake up each morning with a reminder of the Bay and just how sweet of place it really is.

I've learned a lot and for sure, loved a lot. There's no way I'll forget this summer. And while it's still hard to say goodbye, especially not knowing when I'll return, it's not sad and there are no tears (maybe I'm speaking prematurely, airports are killers). It's more like see you later.

chinwe

“I’m telling you, all roads, all roads lead to Oberlin.”

This past weekend was the pinnacle of my entire summer. One week ago, I was sitting in the San Francisco International Airport awaiting the arrival of my family. Let me tell you, the arrival gate is a great place. The best arrivals of the night:

This girl was sitting across from us and waiting and waiting and finally, this Marine comes out of the terminal. She jumps into his arms, they hug, and she refuses to let go. At first I thought she was his sister, but I’m pretty sure nobody kisses their sister like that.
Then, there was this little man and his dad. And this little man was dressed to impress. He had to be picking up a woman. Unfortunately, my family showed up before said woman (presumably his mother haha) made an appearance.
Having my family here was fantastic, really. They’re just as batty as ever, but still great people. It was nice to have them here, but still have my own space. After work Thursday, we went to the Golden Gate Bridge and Twin Peaks, cutesy touristy stuff.

Friday, I took the last vacation day I could manage and we drove up to Napa. It was a nice day trip, mostly for my parents to do some wine tasting. Really, just being around them was great.

The real fun started on Saturday when my best friend, Taylor, arrived. Home girl actually came out to the West Coast for Brave New Voices in Los Angeles, but she was sweet enough to swing through. That evening, the whole lot of us (my family, Megan’s family, Taylor) had dinner at Megan’s mom’s house.

I only have that one picture from the night and there’s no way it accurately portrays the amount of love in the house that night. So much love.
Sunday, Megan, Taylor, Aldo (Megan’s brother), and I did a mural tour in The Mission, which I believe is my favorite part of San Francisco. It’s warm, there’s beautiful artwork all over the buildings, and it’s a predominantly Spanish speaking area.

So pretty much, it’s either going to be The Castro or The Mission for me.
After an odd poetry/one art play reading thing and a short walk down Haight Street, we retired to the house for the night. Aldo went to dinner with his father, my mother came over, and out came the wine and champagne. The drinks were quite good, but the conversation was great. We talked about religion, the state of our various love lives, and decided that all road ultimately lead to Oberlin. All of them, ya heard?
Now it’s Wednesday night and I’m currently watching Miss Congeniality with Megan and Emiliano (classic). Taylor headed to L.A. Monday afternoon, and family headed back east that same night. I miss them, but it won’t be long before I’m sleeping in my own bed. Next week is my last week of work and before then I have to write an abstract of my project (due Monday), finish and prepare a Powerpoint presentation for lab meeting next Thursday, create and print my poster, and ultimately prepare my presentation for this shadigs in Atlanta. Oh, and I don’t have results yet. So the rest of this week/beginning of this week should be interesting. Go me.
The summer’s almost over, but there’s still more fun to be had and many people I love to be seen.

chinwee

"What's your name? What's your size?"

I'm so busy.
I took last Friday off, went to Santa Barbara for the weekend (watched the World Cup, which was SOO satisfactory), and now that I'm back I feel like I'm running out of time to finish everything.

The sweetest thing about the last few weeks was Gabe coming to visit. Don't get me wrong, I love my Oberlin people, but those friendships that survive from home are so great. A month from today I'll be home. I'm really excited to see a couple people.

Here's the blog entry from the OCVB blog, it know it's cheating but at least it's entertaining to see me as a super peppy volleyball player.

My family comes tonight. My best friend, voice of reason, SISTER, comes Friday. Atlanta sooner, home later.

chinwe

"Let me guess, another dude just grabbed your butt?"

I'm slacking, I know, I know. But honest to Allah, this past weekend completely drained me.

Pride was awesome. Just awesome. First of all, Megan's godmother's co workers, Claudia and Shelley, are just fantastic people for taking me in for the weekend. Megan and company took a small vacation, but I decided to stay in SF since I was a little behind on work from my South Carolina trip and G-d knows I would never forgive myself if I missed Pride. So Saturday morning I went with Claudia and Shelley to one of their friend's houses for a party. This is where I got my first real look at San Francisco lesbians with partners and babies. We all know how much I love babies. I loved it. Loved it. Except for the small gay man with frosted tips who kept talking about his fear of carbs. People are so interesting.

After the party, we made our way to Dolores Park where, the day before the Pride Parade, the entire San Francisco lesbian population chills for hours before marching through the streets dancing and just being free (Dyke March). After 'bird-watching' for a few hours, Claudia and Shelley headed back to the house and I decided to hang around and do the march while waiting for Emiliano to get in the city. So I'm walking around and this woman with a shaved head approaches me and tells me how much she loves my hair. I wish with every fiber of my being I remembered her name. What I do remember is that she's an aspiring comedian and she's really not very funny, just kinda crazy. Her friend group consisted of this super blonde girl who was super friendly but completely distraught over the fact that she was too sober to not be annoyed by baldy, a short gym teacher named Minova who almost got into a physical fight with some people over shrubbery, and a much older woman named Laura who had a beard. Surprise, surprise the fact that I was nineteen was a big hoop-la to them. Laura was my favorite, we ended up walking together for most of the march and she told me a lot about the lesbian community and movement in San Francisco. People are SO interesting.

It took a bit of time and a couple taxi rides (my very first by myself!) but I managed to meet Emiliano at the house, change, and have the two of us get back to the Castro. If you don't know what the Castro is, look it up. Anyway, what happens the night before the actual parade is this thing called Pink Party, which is a party on Castro Street with music and debauchery that lasts all night. It was wild. Wildddd. Early in the night, Emiliano and I found ourselves dancing next to one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. She was clearly very close to my age and we were eye-ing the shit out of each other. BUT, I just had to be my shy self and not say anything. If you were the girl with the amazing hair and hoop earrings, you should contact me ASAP. ASAP.

Unfortunately the night ended early, when three people were shot (actually right in the area where I was eye-ing the beautiful girl, scary). News Article

Stephen Powell dated a friend of Megan's in high school. It's a sad world we live in where people think guns settle disputes.

After we walked across a good part of the city and managed to hail a cab, Emiliano and I arrived back at the house and five minutes later I was dead asleep. Out for the count.

Sunday morning, Emiliano met his friend Mya for breakfast while I went to Claudia's for a brunch she throws every pride. Favorite part of brunch: Maren, a two year old I met on Saturday, decided she really liked me all of a sudden, gave me a hugeee hug, and proceeded to plop herself in my lap and prove to me she knew the entire alphabet. When I asked her to say the alphabet backwards, I think she decided she didn't like me as much; but, I still got a giant hug goodbye. Someone give me a child.

The parade was dope, but by the afternoon I'd had enough of the techno music and the crazies. The Backstreet Boys DID perform but I decided to skip out and watch True Blood at Claudia's instead. And I'm okay with that. If you saw the amount of people that were there and were experiencing the immense pain I was feeling in my feet, you would have done the same.

After all that, it's taken me most of the week to get my life back together. It's July and I'm starting to prepare for my presentation here at the end of the month and the one in Atlanta in August. James and Jamila sat me down yesterday and asked me rapid fire questions for ten minutes. I have a lot to look over.

I can't believe I only have a month left. I'm starting to get attached to the lab (especially Ivan, he's my buddy) and I'm going to have to leave soon enough. On the bright side, I've found a place where you can creep on all the people I work with yourself -- Hereee

Haha, expect a super science-y entry soon, I need to familiarize myself with this material and people probably want to finally know what I'm doing here.

So, I have these four female friends, four of my best friends ever. They couldn't all be more different, but they all have this thing in common. They are the last four people on the face of G-d's green earth who would ever, ever date anyone. I mean, there's nothing wrong with them, but for various reasons they just don't swim in the deep end of the pool. Until now. It has happened. We're one down, and she's got it bad. Don't get me wrong, I've never been happier for her in my life, but I'm just issuing a warning to you common folk. If it can happen to one, it can happen to all. Nostradamus is real people, be prepared.

On a more mature note, I've realized how much I love snail mail and I've become an expert at sending it. If you've given me your address, you best be checking your mailbox. If you want old fashioned paper/postcard love, give it to me! I'll for sure, for sure write you.

Other than that, I'm just coasting. The 4th should be good, I'm going to see Gabe (who's finally in California) in the next few days, Santa Barbara again in a week, FAMILY AND TRBJ a few days after that. Life is good.

I must go now, we're waking up in six hours to watch the Netherlands v. Brasil game at a bar before work. Hahaha. I'm going to be wearing green and yellow (Marcelo!), but it really doesn't matter who wins this game because España is going to annihilate whoever they play in the finals. Por supuesto.

love to you all- chinwe

Postscript - I just began Crepúsculo (Twilight in Español!). I need not forget everything I've learned/must be fluent next summer! Details forthcoming!

"He missed. I can't believe he bloody missed."

So I realized I've completely neglected to talk about this social sporting phenomenon called the World Cup, which is ridiculous considering it's the second most-discussed topic (after all things science) in the lab. Days generally begin with everyone trickling in, talking about the results of the games that happened while we were all still asleep (Pacific Time is not working well with this World Cup thing, the third match of the day comes on at 11:30 am. Problematic.). At 11:30, people begin to pull ESPN3 up on their computer screens to watch the game. And the trash talk begins.

This morning I really noticed how diverse the Diabetes Center is. At my 9:30 am lab meeting, I counted fourteen people in room, not including us three interns. Out of fourteen people, only three (maybe four, I'm not sure) were born in this country. Only one person of these three has parents that were born in the United States. I suppose this is the main reason for the severity of the trash talk. When I looked around the room before the meeting started I saw:

- Ivan (who's Russian) talking to this petite Brazilian woman from our partner lab about how the United States barely won the morning (Ivan just really likes soccer. I'm not exactly sure what team he's rooting for, because Russia...yeah.).

- The petite Brazilian woman telling the Spaniard woman from her lab that Spain is going to lose to Brazil and the Spaniard woman agreeing.

- French man Christian Vaisse (head of our partner lab, aka the Vaisse lab) and a woman from his lab who is also French, telling Allison (head of my lab, incase you forgot), who's Chinese, that they really aren't upset (They were lying). Christian and this woman, but especially Christian, have made me decide that French accents are my favorite. Specifically male French accents. Specifically when Christian speaks to me I kind of melt.

- This other man from the Vaisse lab pouting silently while listening to Christian, Allison, and French woman talk. I suspect he's also French, although his accent isn't as thick.

- James (British) telling Jamila he prefers wrestling to soccer and that Rooney looks like a yob (British slang for thug, I'm learning a lot)

In addition to people talking about soccer all the time, everyones' lab meeting presentations entail propaganda advertising their support of whatever country they're from. It's a lot to take in.

My favorite FIFA/lab moment happened this past Tuesday. At 11:30 I put the Nigeria vs. South Korea game on and Ivan put the Argentina vs. Greece game on. Ivan and I sit back to back across our bay(our computer screens face each other) and it was just a whole mess of us trying to out watch both games with the sound all the way up. Then, Alyssia (pronounced Alicia; she's from South Korea), who's in a different lab but works one bay over, kicked me out of my desk and refused to move. She has quite the mouth, so the trash talk got intense. At one point, it was Ivan, Louise (who's Swedish; Nigeria has a Swedish coach), Alyssia, and I were jumping up and down screaming at the computers, each other, and who knows what else. It was great, even though Nigeria lost and Alyssia, two days later, still reminds me every hour.

In conclusion I've realized two things:

1) I want to work in a lab as culturally diverse as the Diabetes Center. It's refreshing to hear different languages and accents daily.

2) Americans (like Andrew) don't like soccer. They just want to dominate the world.

This video almost convinced me otherwise. Almost.

That's all. Exciting tales to come!

chinwe

"Do you know the name of this song? It's called The Girl from Empanada."

So I've hit my summer time lull. I have become a woman with a career. And I just 'career' all the time. I suppose this is partly because I don't have a whole slew of people in the Bay Area and partly due to the fact that I loveeeeeeeee my 'career'. Today I learned how to use the microscope and camera to take pictures of my stained slides. It's pretty legit to have access to this super complicated machine and I'm so excited to finally start collecting data. Tomorrow I'm going to actually take my first pictures so hopefully by the end of the week I'll have some photos to show you all, and at that point I'll FINALLY explain my project. Rock and roll, good times ya'll.

What I have gathered at this point from working in the lab is that patience and precision really are key. Although I'm getting better, my identification of different slices of the brain still isn't great. Something I've trained myself to do over the years is, when I can't perfect something settle for an educated guess and not fret about it. Most times this gets me by just fine with school work and what not; however, let me tell you how far this has gotten me in the past few weeks. Of the ten brain I sliced last week, I tried to pick a slice of the same section (section 50) from each of them on Friday so I could stain, look under the microscope, and compare them all to each other. Out of ten slices, three were the correct section but only two were truly perfect matches. Mnhmn. And that's just my slice selection. I've also run into problems with my stains not being strong enough and my genotyping just flat out not working (Which is why I haven't given you a step by step of how it exactly works). Somehow though I'm not totally discouraged. Maybe I really like science. Maybe I'm a patient person. I do ask a lot of questions. When I asked James if I asked a lot of questions, he just laughed at me.

Things are getting excitinggggg in the next few weeksssss:

1) This coming weekend - PRIDE PRIDE PRIDE I'm so flippin' excited I don't know what do with myself or what to say. Be PREPARED for a ridiculous amount of scandalous photos.

2) Four weekends from now - my family AND trbj! I love that people I love are coming to visit me and meet each other (FINALLY).

3) Maybe a week after that - Back to Santa Barbara, which should be warmer than this place (Thank baby J) which means beachhhhh. I mean, I plan on being at the beach for ten straight days when I get home but this will be a nice reminder of what real weather feels like.

Other than Pride, I'm most excited just to see my family. It's kinda freaking me out how much of a family person I'm becoming. I was just telling my mom the other day (After we had probably the best conversation we've ever had), I don't think I'll be able to live far away from my family in a part of the country (or outside the country) where I wouldn't be able to visit often. At least until I have a family of my own. Maybe. I've always said I was never going back to SoFla (certainly never going back to Coral Springs), but I'm starting to think I would like to live in Miami.

Good news! In an English pub, during the Brasil vs. Côte d'Ivoire match, I decided what I will name my first son (in the event that I inadvertently have a baby boy without having time to put serious, serious thought into his name). The future is imminent, best be prepared.

Texas caught up with me this past week. I got in touch with friends from all the way back in first grade and turns out, even with age, they're just really nice guys. And they remember the craziest things about us in elementary school. One of them might even come out to SF for a day, just to do lunch and so I can see how tall he really is.

I forget this everyday (and then get really excited when I remember), but Gabe is also coming to SF sometime soon. It's so funny which high school friendships have thrived and how strong they are. I love it.

Other than that, things are chill and life is great. I'm thinking of doing something my mother probably won't like very much, but I'm just going to leave it at that for now since she's for sure reading this. Haha.

Pictures from Fisherman's Wharf/Ghirardelli Square as soon as Jasmine gets her life together. That's alllll.

chinwee

Postscript - Go see Toy Story 3. No, you will not be the only person in the theater over six. No, you will not be embarrassed when you cry at the end. Yes, you will thoroughly enjoy it.

Post postscript - The boys are back in six days. I can't wait.

"Sitting in the aisle is like being in an entirely different world!"

After four days on my beloved East Coast, I'm back in San Francisco. Though I spent the majority of those four days on the worst sleep schedule ever/more sleep deprived than I can begin to tell you, I think I really needed Charleston. Although it's not a huge city with a huge name, Charleston holds so much for me. Seeing the city on this trip was interesting. Just like in D.C., they've gentrified the hell out of Charleston. Ms. Hayes (TRBJ's dear mother) always talks about how much D.C. has changed since she was a little girl, but it's hard to feel the oddity of seeing corporations and money take over until you see the changes yourself, in a place that you're emotionally tied to. Every time I've visited Charleston, it has been to see family (my mother's side). Despite the losses, I was surprised (but so relieved) to find that feeling of being surrounded by loved ones that the city has imprinted on me has remained just as strong. For that, I have a good few people to thank.

In four short days, I attended a funeral and a wedding and realized some things. My concerns about not being affected by death were completely ridiculous because the minute I set foot in that church Wednesday morning, the tears were just flowing. What made me cry harder was my uncles. My mom has three younger brothers and I know every single one of them loved their mother more than anything in the world. I sat behind the three of them during the funeral and seeing them shed tears was so difficult. For once in my life, I did not want to be crying but it was impossible to stop. It's an interesting feeling.

Even though I was severely leaking from the eyes, I kept a close eye on my mother (she sat all the way at the other end of the pew from my family because she had to get up and speak). Even though we get into it every once in awhile, I can't stand to see her cry (In case you haven't realized, seeing other people cry is a bit difficult for me). Let me tell you, that woman is strong. So, so strong. Not a tear on her face. Not before speaking, not during speaking, not after speaking. Just an expression that displayed a true appreciation for the life of a loved one. I've never been so proud to have that woman for my mother.

Then the mayhem began. My mom's best friend from eighth grade, my Aunt Clae had her wedding on Saturday morning. Although it was a small (but sooo beautiful) wedding, Aunt Clae had my mother and their other best friend (my Aunt Betty; also their friend from eighth grade) as bride's maids. Since I love matrimony, I decided to tag along on Friday to run last minute errands. One of the errands happened to be my mother getting her eyebrows threaded for the first time. Let me tell you, it was a fiasco. The three of them were hilarious; my mom was being a diva, my Aunts were hovering, and all three of them were loud. Really loud. I wouldn't say I was mortified, but I was more than happy to run over to Wal-Mart to pick up some stuff while they wilded out. What I loved, was seeing my mom, with friends she's had for most of her life; just so happy to be alive and be loved by these women. Sometime during wedding mania, my Aunt Betty called my mom, thirty seconds after they parted ways for a few hours, just to let her know they had been friends for over thirty years. That made me so happy. I don't know if I'll still be friends with people I'm friends with from eighth grade, and it's really unlikely we'll be that close; however, the three of them make me think about the friendships I have. In thirty years, we'll have some really great stories...I can't wait.

If you know me at all, you know I hate goodbyes but I've always loved getting away from homey. When my dad took me to the airport Sunday morning, the tears returned and shocked the hell out of me. I really didn't want to say goodbye to him, not one bit. When he saw my face, being his stoic self, my dad said, "It's all apart of the experience." The experience. I noticed that almost as soon as I got to Oberlin, I was very proud to say I was from SoFla (something I've never laid claim to before). Come Winter Term, I was even excited to return home (Big shocker Gabe, I know. Oh, the love seat) to visit. At the end of second semester, I would have given my right arm to spend one night in my bed; and, my first week in San Francisco, I legitimately missed my family. Despite the circumstances, I was excited to be in Charleston just to see them. I wonder if I would have felt this way if I stayed in-state for school. I'm thinking, probably not. I love that I'm seeing the country, meeting people from different places, and developing a real appreciation for where and what family I'm from. If this is the result of distance, I'll take it and welcome it with open arms.

On one of my flights back to San Francisco, I decided to not be a neurotic creature of habit and chose to sit in an aisle seat instead of next to the window. I always choose the window. I ended up watching the lady across the aisle from me drink half a case of Beck's (which she had stocked up in her purse) and having a really great conversation with the woman sitting next to me (Beautiful, in the Air Force, lives in Honolulu, Louisiana accent, beautiful coffee drinking baby boy named Lake, BUT married. Just my luck.). I even used the bathroom on a plane for the first time in my entire life.

After being out of the lab for three days, it felt good to get back today. I did some immunofluorescence with James, which is pretty much taking pictures of the brain sections once they've been stained with cool colors. Once I start taking my own pictures, I'll post a few and explain a little more.

GO SEE THE A-TEAM. The trailer looked pretty stupid to me, but it was SO GOOD. Not only was it hella good, but the combination of the previews and movie officially has me in love with good-looking Hollywood men. Bradley Cooper, Tom Cruise, Hayden Christen, Matt Dillon, Jay Hernandez, Chris Brown, Michael Ealy (Look up the trailer for Takers, and you'll die. Team, we're seeing this during pre-seaon, just so you know). I love my boys, I really do.

Those last few paragraphs were a bit random, I know, but it's 1:40 and this girl is quite tired. Go see The A-Team. Haha.

chinwe

“When you’re slicing these brains, you remember that number seventy-nine.”

So I was told that US Airways would be offering free wi-fi on-board their aircrafts for the month of June but the bamas lied; therefore, I’m currently writing this up on Microsoft Word. Just imagine me on a plane at 11 pm Pacific time (seat 31F, next to a preteen who’s flying for the first time) while you read this.
Today (Tuesday, June 8th) was the most difficult day I’ve had at work yet. I must admit I was in a really bad mood when I woke up this morning, and the fact that I watched Lady Gaga’s new video relatively soon after waking up did not help (in fact it made me nauseous). I dragged myself to the lab and started off the morning by doing some genotyping (process of determing the cell make up of the animals, to put it simply) with James. I really like working with James. I’m not sure why, but I feel much more relaxed with him. Also, the things we’ve been doing (Monday we did staining, which is pretty much the process of taking the sections of brains I’ve sliced and staining different structures different colors with various antibodies just so we can see them better) are much more chemistry based, like involving dilutions and creating solutions and whatnot, and I’m in my element, ya’ll.
I should probably explain that the reason I’m working with James is because Jamila went to Europe for some conference this week. That’s something I definitely didn’t realize was apart of research work, travel. These people travel quite a bit. Last week at Andrew’s birthday lunch, a tech who used to work in my lab (Liz, who is super friendly and quiteee cute) was talking about how she got this great, spontaneous opportunity to go to Indonesia for a conference in the fall. I thought this was absolutely awesome. One thing I think about that often frightens me is the possibility that once I have a career, and especially a family, there will no longer be time for me to travel. The realization that these people go all over the world, without being ambassadors or anything like that, definitely has me leaning toward a Ph.D. and research.
After lunch, James and I then dived into perfusion.
Okay, I probably should have given you all a heads up before this moment, but this for real is super gross and if you get freaked out by death or blood in any way, you should REALLY stop reading or skip a couple paragraphs now.
When I was telling you about slicing brains I don’t know if I mention it or not, but there’s absolutely no blood. This is because all the mice are perfused before their internal organs are removed. Perfusion is the act of (to put it bluntly) bleeding out the animal before removing whatever organs are needed. I’m not going to lie, I totally see it from a science point of view, but when I try to step outside of what I think the whole process just kinda of screams ‘inhumane’ to me.
First, the mouse is anesthetized, and when it no longer jumps when you pinch its feet, you know to proceed (We were taking a blood sample in addition to everything I’m about to describe, so at this point we pricked their cheeks and drew blood. I felt like Dexter. I also feel like Dexter when I put the slides of brain slices in my slide boxes.). After that, the mouse is pinned down on it’s back so all of it’s limbs are spread wide and the abdomen is showing. Then, using forceps and scissors you cut away the skin that’s covering the abdomen as well as the top of the ribcage. I think this is probably the worst part. The animal is still alive and their hearts start beating so fast that it makes their mouth open and close and jerks their entire body around.
The animal is pretty much dead at this point, but sometimes the heart continues to beat for a few more seconds. At this point, we stick what looks like a mouse size IV into the heart. This pumps first PBS (which is a basic wash solution we use for a lot of things) and then PFA (which is a diluted formaldehyde solution) into the body. The PBS flushes the entire system; aka the blood (as well as urine and whatnot) starts to just run out of the body and pool in the tray we were using (We did two mice at a time for a total of ten and cleaned up after they were all done, picture that.). The PFA, in addition to further cleaning out the system, makes the bodies incredibly stiff. This is my second least favorite part. When the PFA is being pumped into the body, the hips kind of pulse and the tail starts to wring around kind of slowly and rigidly. I can’t even describe it correctly; it’s just flipping creepy. Each standard sized mouse is on the pump for about twenty minutes (the ob/ob mice, which are the mice without leptin, are more obese so they take a little bit longer).
Once the mouse is stiff, you can cut out any organ you want. James collected livers, which are easy and just come out with one snip. But of course, I’m studying brains and those are a bit more difficult. In order to collect the brain, you must completely decapitate the mouse with scissors (At this point, James had me check that the female mice that had been ovariectomized, and had the procedure done properly. It was really gross.). Then you take the head, peel back the skin, cut the back of the skull off which a razor blade, and cut the rest of the skull off piece by piece with the razor. My third least favorite part simply because of how awful removing the skull sounds. I’ll spare you, but it’s truly horrific.
I did this for about four hours today. It’s really just a delightful process. Something about it really worries me though. For those of you don’t know why I’m on a plane (or who aren’t friends with my mother on Facebook), my grandmother passed away last week and I’m in route to the east coast to attend her funeral and pay my respects. The thing that kind of worries me is, first, that I haven’t been super emotional this past week, in addition, to the fact that I was completely surrounded by death today but it didn’t really affect me or link my brain to my grandmother in any way (Sarah, if you’re reading, I know this sentence is grammatically incorrect, please bear with me.). Part of me thinks I’m really good at disconnecting work from life and part of me thinks it’s not normal that death doesn’t affect me like it does some people I know. I don’t know.
The highlight of my day came when James and I got to the mice that been ovariectomized. James does some things really different than other people. Usually when you anesthetize an animal, you hold then on their back and inject them in the stomach. James thinks this scares them more than necessary, so he grabs them back the tail and injects in them in the butt. I don’t know what happened, either this one girl was scared witless or James hit her bladder, but she peed and DAMN did that piss have range. She managed to pee all over James’s face and in his mouth. I died, absolutely died, as James dropped everything (including the mouse) and ran to the bathroom to wash his face. For the next fifteen minutes, every other sentence was, “Bloody hell, that bitch! Damnit, how dare you?! (James curses a lot, but the fact that it’s all in this great British accent just makes me giggle.)” It was great. My theory lies in that, since female mice essentially become males when you remove their ovaries, they inherit the ability to pee crazy far distances (a second ovariectomized mouse peed hella far, but James had learned his lesson and aimed her butt away from his face).
What I got most out of spending four hours with James was a little insight on his thoughts about Ph.D. versus M.D. While he told me that he thoroughly enjoys research, a part of him wishes he got his M.D. Apparently there are more grants available to people who have their M.D., as well as there being things like specific professor positions where you must have your M.D. to apply. Ultimately, he says it comes down to whether I want to work with people or not. I’m all of a sudden really unsure, I was super into the idea of psychiatry but I really like this research stuff. I don’t know. Upside, Indonesia. Downside, mice with full bladders. Choices, choices. I feel like I have plenty of time to decide, but it’s definitely been on the brain.
So much to think about, so much to say. That’s all for now, people.

Chinwe

“Whoa, look at all this fog! We must be at a really high altitude.”

After one week of work, I have sliced six brains and am well on my way to becoming a slicing expert. Yesterday when I was working on brains four, five, and six, I finally figured out to make perfect, perfect slices. I’m not gonna lie, even Jamila said they were beautiful. Now my problem lies in that, I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to identifying the sections of the brain. In fact, I’m really bad at it. Ideally, you’re supposed to have about fifty slides with two slices on each slide for each brain (one hundred slices per brain) and the slices are supposed to be from about sections thirty-six to fifty-seven (I know that means nothing to you all.). My slices are all over the place. I end up starting at section twenty-two and doing thirty slides of useless crap before realizing I’ve just arrived at the section I needed to start at. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t expect it to be easy.

Outside of the slicing, I’ve actually started to kinda make friends with the people in my lab even though they’re all so much older than me. Yesterday happened to be Andrew’s birthday so our entire lab went out to lunch at this bombtastic Thai place (As much as I’m staying true to the east coast, I must say that San Francisco has the best Thai food I’ve ever had. Ever. And if you really know me, you know I love Thai food. Love it.). So I’ll give you a quick run down of the lab:
Andrew – Birthday boy. Hardly a boy, Andrew is post doctorate, is married, and has an almost four-month-old baby.
Allison – Lab supervisor. Every box in the lab has her last name on it and more than half of the articles I’ve read to give me background information for my project were published by her. Just to give you an idea of how important she is.
Helen – Other intern. Cute, small, Burmese, and is currently attending medical school in Michigan.
Louise – Shy and Swedish. Also post doctorate, her boyfriend works on the twelfth floor or something. She’s very nice and I like talking to her a lot. And I really like her accent.
Ivan – After Helen and I, the youngest person in the lab. He’s Russian and is about to turn twenty-four. He might be my favorite person, because he consistantly talks to me like I’m a person and not like I’m nineteen. And he’s funny.
James – Post doctorate. Quite British and quite gay (I don’t mean that in a bad way at all, but really that’s the only way to describe him.). He’s possibly my favorite person to observe in action. He’s absolutely hilarious, in a super British kind of way.
Jamila – My mentor. Post doctorate. Very…blunt. About everything. Her and James are two peas in a pod. They are so entertaining to watch.

And then there’s me. I really do like them all, I think I’ll just start to feel more comfortable when my age stops coming up like, “Wait, you’re only nineteen?! Oh man, we need to watch what we say.”
I left work late and as soon as I got back to the house, Megan whisked me away to go hang out with Emiliano, who’s way up there on my list of favorite Obies. We met up with Emiliano and friends, Ryan and Mickey, at this fast food joint called In N’ Out that only exists in California. The thing about In N’ Out is that it only serves burgers. You all should know my thing about red meat (I don’t eat it). However, Megan has been telling me about In N’ Out since first semester and since I’m all the way in California you’ll never guess what I’ve done. Yes, yes I had an In N’ Out Burger. In fact, last night I had my second In N’ Out burger in two weeks. That’s more red meat than I’ve ever had in the past two years. It’s kind of shocking. I can’t wait to tell my family.
After In N’ Out, we all drove up to this place called The Headlands, which is pretty much this huge cliff that people can drive up on, look out onto the Bay, and see Alcatraz (which I plan on taking a ferry to see), the city and all the subsequent surrounding cities (Berkeley, Oakland, etc.). There was more fog than I’ve ever seen before in my whole life (The fog here is amazing, honestly it’s one of my favorite things about the city. I wish I could describe what it feels like to stand in it.), but in the few minutes where it wasn’t a complete sheet of white, we got a pretty sweet photo.
Standing up there in all the fog really solidified a lot of thoughts I’ve been having for the past few days. I think this is the happiest I’ve been in the past six years. In part, I have my friends to thank for that, new and old. The last year has led me to many really genuine and fantastic people from all over the country, as well, as strengthen my friendships with a few people from home. The other part can be attributed to something I think I’ve found in myself. I feel like I’m finally able to graze with my fingertips the things I want to accomplish and the person I want to be. And it feels good to know that all comes from within; that my success in life is well within reach and the happiness I acquire because of that isn’t attributed to anyone but myself.
For those of you who like sappy teenage girl novels, I’m currently reading Just Listen by Sarah Dessen. If you haven’t read it, you should. One of the main themes of the novel is music, which reminded me that I needed to make a mix tape for my new assistant volleyball coach. While I was going through my music, I came across a song I haven’t heard in a really long time. In the novel, one of the characters mentions that no matter how much life changes songs never will. You’ll always be able to go back and listen to a certain song and have it evoke a certain feeling or memory. It was odd for me to think about a time period that seems so long ago, but I believe I enjoyed it. Try it. (The song was Caring is Creepy by The Shins. If you haven’t heard it, rectify that situation.)
Sorry if I got too deep for you. I’ll try to stay in the kiddie pool next time, children.


just chinwe


post script – I tried to photo document Chinwe vs. Nature. This was as far as I got.

Then my camera died. Which I think is okay because some man was looking at me funny and I was also trying to eat a pear and be on time. I think I give up, but at least you got a little glimpse at what I see when I leave everyday.

"There's a way to do it with scissors so you don't have to feel the skull crack."

Okay. Just a heads up, if brains and blood and small animals make you queasy, you probably shouldn't read this.

So things are already pretty intense. I woke up and made my way to the lab around 11. I swear I meant to video my route to work but today it was more like Chinwe vs. Nature vs. Time (I was running late in case you just don't get it). The first thing we did today was work on identifying brain sections. People, it's really hard. Usually the brains are sectioned from front to back (anterior to posterior), and as you go from one end to the other the structures within the brain change shape depending on which section you're in. So I took this book called The Mouse Atlas, which is filled with 'maps' of every section of mice brains, and tried to identify pictures of sections based on the shapes of the structures (I know I'm being vague but honestly, I don't even have all the names down and I don't want to confuse people). I also had to identify if they were young or old, and if they were ob/ob mice (Mice that don't have leptin, which is a hormone that inhibits appetite). It's pretty hard, not gonna lie. I've gotten to the point where I can narrow each slice down to being one of two sections with help from The Mouse Atlas and I can tell young from old when I don't have to take ob/ob mice into consideration. That's going to take some time. It's all going to take some time.

And then, I sliced my first brain. It was a female ob/ob mouse brain (I'm going to be working with all females, no complaints there haha) and it already had a small chunk missing so there was no pressure to do well (That was probably a result of a botched brain-removal job, something I will be learning soon). I'm so thankful Jamila gave me this one as my first brain because honestly, I completely destroyed the sucker. What happens is the brain is in some kind of frozen fluid so it looks like a little ice cube and you glue it to a surface and then mount it on what looks like that thing they slice deli meat with at the grocery store. Then you have this piece of glass that looks like a really thick microscope slide and a really long razor blade. When you turn this huge handle on the side of the machine, it lowers the surface that the brain is mounted on so it brushes across the razor and takes a slice off the brain. The glass is there to keep the slice from wrinkling and from flying off the razor. Then you take a microscope slide and press it down on the slice and it sticks to the slide. It's a little bit more complicated than that and there's a whole list of 'don'ts' (which I learned the hard way) but that's the general idea. Just so you have an idea of how good I am at this, at one point I accidentally moved the mounted brain too close to the blade and when I was trying to fix it I shaved off the biggest, most uneven chunk of brain ever. I butchered it so badly that my next ten or so slices looked like swiss cheese. Swiss brain cheese.

I know I'm talking about this in a totally nonchalant way, but the slicing really isn't as bad as it might sound. You want grotesque? So I'm putting away my tools at the end of the day, and I walked by someone's lab desk and there's this mouse. And this mouse has been decapitated and the head was kind of crushed and is just chillin' there next to the body. The entire abdomen was open and all the organs were visible. And this was all located in a small pool of blood. Just chillin'. I had a moment where I needed to stop and remember what I signed up for. The good news is, I am prevented by law from killing any mice. So all of you that were worried about that, there you go. The most I'll have to do is remove the brain from a freshly decapitated mouse, which I mentioned earlier. I don't know if that's much better, but I know I'm going to have to go the whole nine yards eventually. It's apart of the career path.

Tomorrow, Chinwe vs. Nature (and probably vs. Time because I have to be there at 9:30 for lab meeting), I promiseee.

Oh, anndddddd:

I'm official! Apparently there's a sweet view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the library, and now that I have an ID I can actually go in and check it out. Perhaps I'll do that tomorrow as well.

CHINwe

''So i'm obviously not a city kid, right?"

I just need to take a moment and say, I got the sweetest internship in the continental United States, if not the world. Today was my first day, and I must admit when I woke up this morning I was ten times more nervous than I was excited. I have come to realize that when I'm nervous about going to meet someone by myself or navigating my way around some place new (i.e. San Francisco), I get the disgusting feeling of absolutely not wanting to do anything but lay in bed. Therefore, I waited until the last minute this morning to shower, eat breakfast, and verify my directions. Still, I managed to be running ahead of schedule.

Not gonna lie, the best part of my day was walking up Parnassus Avenue. I know that means nothing to most of the people reading this, but from where I start walking up Parnassus to UCSF is just one big hill. This sounds really stupid, especially since there are steeper hills in the city, but I had a really nice Chinwe vs. Nature moment that kinda calmed me down and made me stop dreading what I was about to get into.

After taking a bus across the city to sign papers at a different campus, I finally got to go up to the lab. I'm working on the tenth floor of the Medical Sciences building so I'm really going to have to suck up all my issues with elevators, at least for the summer. Stairs are just really not an option. The lab is a real, legit laboratory, not a Chemistry 102 lab and I loveeeee it. I've never been so nerded out about anything before in my whole life. There's boxes and bottles and beakers literally everywhere and it's awesome. I met with my lab supervisor, Allison (the cutest little woman but so full of life), and we talked about the lab and about what I'm supposed to get out of this summer. Pretty much she told me not to get frustrated when my experiment fails the first twenty times. Someone remind me okay?

At the end of our chat, I went to grab lunch before my mentor arrived and who do I run into as soon as I walk out of the Medical Sciences building?! Erin Berggg. And what is Erin Berg doing? Sitting and thinking about how he lost my phone number and couldn't contact me when we are living in the same city, and working at the same university. Turns out, we're working on the same floor in neighboring departments! Oberlin follows you everywhere people.

An hour later, I finally met Jamila. Jamila is the postdoc who I will be working most closely with this summer. She did her undergrad at UC Berkeley, got her Ph.D. at Harvard, and is now working at UCSF as well as teaching in the Bay area. It already kind of blows my mind how intelligent she is. The project we're working on is...complicated, but Jamila just breezed through it like she was talking about daytime television or something. Even if she's just talking about how to work the scanner or where to put outgoing mail, she just sounds really smart. Not only that, but she's pretty funny and believes in life outside of the lab. I'm hella impressed.

Let's see, once I got off work, I went shopping on Haight St. with Megan (Thift store heaven. HEAVEN.) and decided to be really ambitious and start working out today. Mmmkinda failed. I ended up going for a twenty minute run around the general area where I'm living and I've come to the conclusion that at the end of the summer I'm either going to be in the best shape of my life or be dead. The hills people. Oh my hell. That's all I can say, we'll discuss when I finally have a productive workout (which should be soon because I need to have a productive workout SOON).

So I'm exhausted. and cold (I'm bundled up in my bed right now, this place is so cold.). BUT, I would say that I had a rather productive day. Okay, I have a crap-ton of reading in this endocrinology book that I must do before tomorrow and I want to watch Glee (!!!), so peace. I'm sorry about the lack of pictures, but I was too busy trying to find my way to be a stupid tourist. Maybe tomorrow or later this week I'll video my route to work so you can all experience my Chinwe vs. Nature moment (and hear me gasping for breath).

chinweee

postscript - Tomorrow, there will be mice. Thirty-one to be exact.

'YOUR GAS IS OPEN'

If you didn't already know, Meg-o and I took a San Fran-hiatus to Santa Barbara to visit her dad this past weekend. We left on Thursday morning and drove four hours south to what they call the 'central coast.' I don't know, in Florida we have the Panhandle, central Florida, and SoFla, central coast just seems like an oxymoron to me. Nevertheless, the drive was fairly painless AND we were good samaritans and notified some people that their gas tank was completely unscrewed and open (How? I have no idea, but one flicked cigarette butt and bye-bye fancy Lexus.). Go us.

Megan's father and his wife, Loretta, are just the sweetest people. We were so girly this weekend, facials and pedicures, and not gonna lie, I lovedd it. Getting pedicure was a little scary, but people touching your feet isn't bad when you're expecting it and when they aren't doing it maliciously (Alen). The scrubbing part was kinda tough, but I think it was worth how pretty my toes currently look. Girly, girly, girly.

It gets girlier. After facials the first day, we went to go see Sex and the City. IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY SEEN SEX AND THE CITY 2, GO SEE IT. I'm not going to lie to you, the first one is better, but the clothes are just fabulous. That's all I can say until Amanda gives me the okay.

After the movie, we parked in BFE in her dad's neighborhood because, of course, there was no parking near his house. So we're walking to the house at one in the morning, and some person's chihuahua is barking at us. Problem is, the dog is outside their owner's yard and starts to follow us. I learned at an early age you just don't run from dogs, so I'm just working on maintaining a brisk walk. Megan, on the other hand, decides on a rather brisk jog. We made it to the house without any altercations, but fact of the matter is, homegirl ran from a chihuahua.

Saturday, we drove to San Luis Obispo, had lunch, saw the mission, and walked around the town. San Luis Obispo is cute, the people remind me of the people in Florida but it looks a lot like San Antonio, Texas.

I didn't actually get to see the inside of the mission because there was a wedding in progress (Which is fine because I, fully and adoringly, support matrimony), but what I did see was very nice. After that, I put my feet in the Pacific Ocean for the first time.

It's hella cold, people. Beautiful, but the water is flippin' cold.

So we're back, and tomorrow is my last day to kick back and be on vacation. I must, must start working out again this week and my internship begins on Tuesday. I'm not nervous yet. I don't know, I don't think I've fully wrapped my mind around the awesomeness. Stay posted to hear all about my first day and to see how freaking lost I get on Tuesday trying to navigate public transportation.

chin

postscript - In case you wanted to know, top three songs on the radio right now in California are 1) In My Head - Jason Derulo, 2) Break Your Heart - Taio Cruz, and 3) OMG - Usher. I had a total of eight hours with car radio to figure this out. Kill. Me. California Girls by Katy Perry was super close but inconveniently came on at times when we completely lost radio signal, and we only had to hear Alejandro by Lady Gaga once each way. Thank god.

post postscript - When at dinner with people you've just met, before expressing any strong dislike you have about any university, make sure you know who is an alumnus of where. Yes, I'm speaking from experience. I'm an idiot, that's all.

"So then the Vikings.."

So I've been in the Bay for a little over a day now, and it's real comf (as in comfortable, I've got to get back in this abbrevs thing). This is a really strange thing to be excited about, but I feel like a normal person because I get super sleepy at around 11 pm and wake up at ten until 8 every morning. Pacific Time isn't so scary, maybe it's just Eastern Time that sucks.

First official outing was to the California Academy of Sciences.

I really enjoyed this museum because it really put things in perspective for me. I'm sure a lot of you have heard me say I don't really like animals. Yesterday, I realized this is absolutely false. I am absolutely fascinated by animals...behind glass that don't have faces.

The starfish are Megan and I. I'll give a dollar to the first person to guess who's who and why.

After the Academy of Sciences, there was 'college story time with Nanan' and coffee AND, for the first time in awhile, we experienced rush hour traffic in combination with five o'clock radio. It's the little things in life that are constant reminders that Oberlin is not real life, people.

Dinner was the absolute best. Chris is currently reading all about the history of the Norse and what not and who knew that there are about six degrees of separation between the Vikings and...everything (The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, etc.). I have not laughed that hard in weeks. Megan was crying. It was great.

The second best thing about both of Megan's houses (after Chris) is the amazing amount of books available at my disposal. It's fantastic. I'm finally going to finish this Michael Jackson biography that I started on the drive up to college, but I'm simultaneously going to read The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan because I just can't wait. I'll keep ya'll posted on the literary scene.

I don't know exactly what's happening, but it's 11:26 am and we're leaving to do..something (Italian people? North beach? pizza? idk.). GO SEE SEX AND THE CITY 2 TONIGHT, AT MIDNIGHT. That's all.

chinnnn

"Ma'am, your bag is 16 lbs. overweight."

Helloooo. So if you look below, you'll see my feeble attempt at wrapping up my winter term project. Haha, if you don't already know, that was quite an experience so we're just going to leave it at that. Adios Toni.

HOWEVER, tengo un proyecto nuevo. SAN FRANCISCO. If somehow you missed me raving all spring semester about how I'm going to be living/working/breathing for three months in San Francisco, I've got news for you. I'm in San Francisco and on Pacific Time.

Getting here, that was an experience. After a night of Thumper with our next-door neighbor lax bros and co., Megan and I woke up late. Yes, I was a little bit frazzled but not the end of the world. The end of the world was getting to the airport and having, not one, but both of our bags be overweight. Severely overweight. A total of twenty-seven pounds overweight. Okay, it wasn't the end of the world but I did panic a little. Thank god for Megan, because while I panicked she played master problem solver. I just want to take a moment and apologize to my parents for calling and freaking out. Sorry guys. Airports are stressful, stressful places people.

Nine hours of travel later, I arrived. It's beautiful people, really beautiful, and I haven't even done anything spectacular yet. For those of you who know Megan, you know she's all about family (which is funny because you probably also know she swears she's never getting married. just a heads up, that's false. she may not know it yet, but she's going to have a fantastic husband and lots of children. shh.). I haven't even been here for twenty-four hours and it's already obvious why she talks about her family all the time. They are so welcoming and just wonderful people. Also, her stepdad, Chris, reminds me SO MUCH of one of my favorite Obies ever. It's actually hilarious, he's already a favorite of mine.

So try and keep up with me this summer, I already have so much to talk about and it's only day one. There will be pictures. It's going to be great fun people, great fun.

Chin

"You are your best thing, Sethe. You are."

So I'm sitting in the Cleveland airport, awaiting the shuttle that's coming to take me back to my 'real' life. I finished Beloved, but surprise, surprise, I had no idea what to write about. I decided Beloved was going to be my last book, simply because I found myself dragging myself through it and not really enjoying it, all the while panicking because I was running out of time. So no, I did not read nine novels this winter term. And I'm okay with that. Next question.

So after a week and a half of deliberating, I decided to focus on the women. I think it's remarkable that Toni Morrison can go from so perfectly defining the struggle of the black man to the misunderstood love of black women.

"Stars just throb and throb and throb and sometimes, when they can't throb anymore, when they can't hold it anymore, they fall out of the sky."

Usually I'm okay with the race issue, but the way it was presented in Tar Baby didn't thrill me. I just realized I'm not sure whether the character of Jadine is black or mixed, I just know that she is light skinned. Regardless, she represents what I think is a misrepresentation of most mixed people, as well as educated black people. Yes, it's true that there are some people of color who use education as a means of disassociating themselves with their culture. Yes, Jadine sees the world, and is given the gift of education by a white man while her aunt and uncle serve in his house. But that doesn't make her a traitor to her family and her race. I felt like it was very easy for Morrison to go ahead and give Jadine a bad connotation simply because of her opportunities.

Funny, I feel like I can identify with Jadine even though I'm in no way a model, nor have I ever been to Paris. However, I think it's a crime to be uneducated, especially with the amount of resources available to people in order to learn. I have lived my life around a lot of uneducated black people and I just can't wrap my mind around living that way. So I've acquired education and I refuse to be ashamed of that. And I'm not sure exactly what it is, but apparently, somehow by being educated I've distanced myself from the African-American race. I've been accused of 'not being black,' being an 'Oreo,' and even hating black people, many times. But why is that the way it is? I don't understand how being educated is white, and being uneducated, or seeming to be so, is black. That sounds so, so stupid. It is so, so stupid. And because being black is associated with being uneducated, I've wrongfully been accused of avoiding black people, when really it's uneducated people I find not worthy of my time.

Tar Baby has many other interesting aspects, specifically the relationships between whites and blacks, between men and women, and among blacks themselves. I feel that it is definitely a book I will have to read again later in my life. Maybe I'll understand it more.

If I had to rank the books thus far, I'd say:

1. The Bluest Eye
2. Song of Solomon
3. Sula
4. Tar Baby

Tar Baby just...wasn't. I don't know. I'll admit that towards the end, I was able to get a little bit into it. It wasn't a hard book to finish, but the first half was killer. Regardless it took me way too long to read, I'm running out of time. As I plow through the rest of the novels, I'm kinda hoping Morrison gives me a character who goes out, sees the world, gains some knowledge, and isn't see as a bad person.

Two weeks left before Oberlin. Thank goodness.

Chinwe

"Everybody wants the life of a black man."

I agree. So much is expected of black men. They are expected to be good sons to their fathers, to respect their mothers, to look out for their brothers, to protect their sisters, to love their wives, to care for their daughters, to teach their sons, and all the while be true to themselves. And hell, I think most do a really good job considering how much that is to juggle. My daddy especially. Song of Solomon allows the reader to see how much responsibility there really is in being a man of color by presenting Milkman, a man who takes responsibility for nothing. The fact is, although one may be dealt a mediocre hand in life, you have to take it for what it is, suck it up, and keep going. You know, roll with the punches.

So think about the pressure, how much responsibility sits on the shoulders of these men. With so much to prove, no wonder young black men are the ones so quick to pull guns on each other. What is even more amazing and unfortunate than interracial gang violence, is what's going on with gay black men in cities like Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, being a gay black man is generally frowned upon by others, especially other men. So, many are super secretive about their lifestyles and relationships. In fact, they are secretive to the point that many will have relations with other men but pretend 'it's a one time thing' or lie about how many partners they have had. Even more upsetting is many will be too frightened to go get tested for HIV/AIDS and many of those that do, won't tell anyone but will continue to have intercourse. Think about that.

I think Song of Solomon should be required reading for every black male. Really, for everyone. Read it. I even found something specifically for myself within it's pages. Perfect timing Toni.

"The engine of the old car he'd borrowed roared, but Guitar spoke softly to her. "You think because he doesn't love you that you are worthless. You think because he doesn't want you anymore that he is right--that his judgment and opinion of you are correct. If he throws you out, then you are garbage. You think he belongs to you because you want to belong to him. Hagar, don't. It's a bad word, 'belong.' Especially when you put it with somebody you love. Love shouldn't be like that. Did you ever see the way the clouds love a mountain? They circle all around it; sometimes you can't even see the mountain for the clouds. But you know what? You go up top and what do you see? His head. The clouds never cover the head. His head pokes through because the clouds let him; they don't wrap him up. They let him keep his head up high, free, with nothing to hide him or bind him. Hear me, Hagar?" He spoke to her as he would to a very young child. "You can't own a human being. You can't lose what you don't own. Suppose you did own him. Could you really love somebody who was absolutely nobody without you? You really want somebody like that? Somebody who falls apart when you walk out the door? You don't, do you? And neither does he. You're turning over your whole life to him. Your whole life, girl. And if it means so little to you that you can give it away, hand it to him, then why should it mean any more to him? He can't value you more than you value yourself." He stopped. She did not move or give any sign that she had heard him."

I hear you. Thanks girl.

I started Tar Baby yesterday and it's noticeably a much, much harder read. And I hate it already. However, it's my mother's favorite other than The Bluest Eye and I hated Song of Solomon until I got about halfway through, so there's still hope. Three and one-third down, five and two-thirds to go.

Chinwe

"Mamma, did you ever love us?"

I finished Sula maybe four or five days ago, the reading is going really well. The writing, not so much. I guess that lack of wanting to get all my thoughts out on paper comes from not being a writer. Whatever.

Aside from the plot of Sula, I found myself really focusing on the friendship between Nel and Sula. Because I moved at the ages of five and twelve, and to different states both times, I don't exactly have friends from birth or from a young age. I wonder if that's something I missed out on as a child. As much as I think their friendship has the potential to be a great thing for both of them, Sula seems to have different expectations from it all. Maybe it's her mother, maybe it's Eva, but I think Sula has an interesting take on what she needs in order to be successful in life. She knows she needs to get out of the Bottom, so she does. She goes to college and sees the country. Sula knows that one key to getting ahead in life is getting an education. But even before she acquires some sense of how the world works, Sula has a kind of warped view of how one deals with people. From the moment she overhears her mother saying that she doesn't really love Sula, it catches Sula off guard and hurts her really deep. When she watches, in fascination, her mother burn to death, Sula believes it's deserved on Hannah's part. Sula seems to have second thoughts about trusting people from this moment on. For Sula, Nel is more like a wingman than a friend. To her, cutting off the tip of her finger is not even a sacrifice for what she is able to gain from Nel, her trust.

Sula was able to obtain and hold on to Nel's trust, and for her that's enough to keep her from caring what her reputation is in the Bottom upon returning after college. Nel's ability to keep trusting Sula, even when she foresees the damage Sula is about to do in her life, is remarkable. Although Sula, the novel, contains so many more elements, I found myself applying the lesson of trust to my own life. I think my generation is a generation that often doesn't think about the future; how our actions and choices will alter our lives in the years to come. I guess this also applies to the people we surround ourselves with. Sounds drastic, but thinking on it some of the people I've trusted myself are people I now wish I never met. I suppose in regards to trusting others, one must remember to trust themselves first at the end of the day.

As you can see, pediatric psychology has already got me diagnosing the world. Or maybe that's my Winter Term boredom. I started Song of Solomon last night, so we're making the transition from chick book to dude book. The novels are getting harder, but there's definitely consolation in the fact that by the time I finish them, I'll be super close to returning to school. Praise Allah, chaa digg?

Chinwe

"I destroyed white baby dolls."

My favorite books are the ones that I read too young and never fully understood. In my recent rereading of The Bluest Eye, I spent quite a few moments in awe of concepts I never understood the gravity of in my youth. It's kind of ironic now that I see just how much importance children and the concept of youth possess in this novel. Although the focus really isn't about Claudia's life or personal story, her point of view is fascinating. From Claudia, we gain this raw, truthful perspective on racial beauty; a child's perspective. Claudia doesn't understand how her elders can continuously give her little white dolls and expect her to cherish them. These dolls look nothing like her, and to be continuously told by the world that little white girls encompass all things good only makes her believe that as a little black girl, she's inferior. It's understandable that Claudia develops this immense hatred for little, good, white girls. What I think is really interesting is how, in Claudia's mind, it's only logical to hide her disdain in pure adoration of Shirley Temple and later, Maureen Peal. Thinking about it, I feel like I've always understood that adoration, but never where it came from. I'm pretty sure I've known quite a few little black girls who wished for straighter hair or lighter eyes. I'm pretty sure for a few years of my life, I was one of them.

The best quality of Morrison's writing, I think, is her ability to take a character, tell their entire story, tie their past into the present plot, and not lose the reader somewhere in between. This is what kind of saves the characters of Cholly Breedlove, Pauline Breedlove, and Soaphead Church. Realistically, it's impossible to fairly judge whether people are truly good or bad. However, judgement is one of those basic human traits we all possess whether we want to or not. Looking at Mr. and Mrs. Breedlove's behavior and notoriety around town, it's easy to make the assumption that they are 'bad people.' Bad people do bad things, right? Or maybe bad things happen to people, which in turn makes them bad people who do bad things. Morrison challenges the stipulations and gives the reader a reason to maybe give the Breedlove's the benefit of the doubt. Both Mr. and Mrs. B had pretty bad childhoods. I feel that both of them aren't prepared to be adults and when faced with the responsibilities of adulthood, they are unequipped to handle the pressure. Not only are they unequipped, but they are also unsure of how to handle the pressure and, of course, fold underneath it. Both lacked guidance as children, is that really their fault? Can they be blamed for mistakes they don't know better than to make? I don't think so. Maybe I'm at fault for doing so, but I pity them both and I cannot bring myself to fully blame them for things they do.

I don't know if I necessary feel sorry for Soaphead Church, but I certainly don't see his issues with pedophilia as being the greatest ones he possesses. His deal is much more that he's personally insecure about himself and relies on hearing and "correcting" the misfortunes of others to make himself feel important and necessary in the world. When presented with Pecola's wish to have blue eyes, I think he is faced with a moment of realization about himself. He knows he cannot help her and he is angered at himself, for he feels her request is the most deserving of all he's heard. Yet, Church quickly sums up that his work is necessary because unlike God, he is not blatantly ignoring Pecola, even though there's nothing he can do for her. I feel like in that moment Church thinks himself comparable with God, or maybe even greater. Perhaps, there's more to him, after all this section is the climax of the novel, but I'm still a little confused about his character.

I wonder the most, but have no words to offer, about Pecola's conversation with her imaginary friend once she has obtained her blue eyes. That's always the hardest section for me to read, it's nothing but sad. Really sad.

I started Sula last night and I really like it, fifty pages in. It's definitely a woman's book, that's why you think it sucks Gabe.

Thus far, my biggest realization is that I'm going to have to read a lot faster to finish all nine novels.

Chinwe