"You lose! Good day, sir!"

I have been awake for 18 hours of this day. Eight of those hours were spent blowing bubbles.

Today was the date of the aforementioned trip to the Carnegie Science Center in Pittsburgh for National Chemistry Week. We did a presentation on super-strong bubble solutions that would bounce, a la Willy Wonka (because it was movie themed, sort of).

Just please don't steal the fizzy lifting drinks.

The kids totally loved it, and we were one of the more popular tables at the event. People got very excited that they could make the solution by just adding glycerin or corn syrup to soapy water. When using a glove, you can basically grasp the bubbles by hand. The glycerin forms hydrogen bonds around the surface of the bubble to delay evaporation. Because chemistry is awesome.

Also, it was Mole Day.

THE GOGGLES. 

We wandered around the building a bit as well. I spun the wheel of natural disaster, predicting my probability of succumbing to wild forces aside from Chem231. My inexplicably improbable life almost necessitated this outcome.

It was a close call between water spout, mud slide, dust storm and hail.

Overall, it was a pretty fun day and I'm glad that I got to participate. Off to bed to dream of bimolecular substitution and bubbles.

"You are soon going to change your present line of work."

I ordered Chinese the week before fall break, and a fortune cookie told me to seek a new line of work. I found this hilarious, because I happened to be on the brink of an academic breakdown. In case you haven't noticed, chemistry isn't my thing.

I was charged with the task of writing two essays and a lab report that week, and I had a bio exam in a few days. I had just declared my major/minor combination early a few weeks prior (biology and philosophy, if you were wondering). And here was this fucking fortune cookie.

As a memento of how absurd circumstances in my life tend to be, I pinned it to my desk.

I've since gotten my lab report back. After a vague speech by my professor about the general weaknesses of the class's reports, I was expecting the worst. But we did well. Very well. I was happy. Later in the day, he pulled me aside in the lab to tell me something.

I panicked at first, anticipating phrases like, "You are about to blow something up," and, "What would be the product of chemical X and Y?" Instead, it was something about how my lab partners had told him that I'd written the report and that he was impressed. He discussed the possibility of becoming a technical writer. Though I knew I'd grow bored writing procedures, I thanked him for bringing it up.

The truth is that after the multitude of issues I've faced in that course, I really needed to hear that I'd succeeded in at least one aspect of it. And it made me begin to think about how much I enjoy writing and how, apparently, it seems to be my one natural talent. So, who knows? While I don't think I could stand to be a technical writer, I might end up moving more towards the writing side of the sciences. They need people to explain, and I can do it. Because, sorry scientists...but you're not always the best at explaining things. The smarts that you have (and that maybe I lack in some ways), I can convey.

Touche, fortune cookie.

Silly writer, I am.

Also, those glasses are part of my Velma costume this Halloween. Have I really not been Velma before?

It was a bright cold day in October, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

Organic chemistry, you're killing me.

This year is an uphill struggle unlike any I've ever encountered before. But I will do it. In the end, I just can't hate chemistry.

In two weeks, I'll be heading back to Pittsburgh to present a demonstration at the Carnegie Science Center with a few friends. I don't know exactly what we'll be doing yet (I'm pulling for an invisible ink theme), but I'm pretty excited. We need to get our act together in science. I'm all for getting kids excited about it early, because if there's anything I've realized recently, it's that we are in desperate need of logical, questioning individuals in our society (see: The Tea Party). But I digress.

I had an interesting fall break, in accordance with my recent, inexplicable life. I had a craving for pizza made on the grill, and it burst into flames shortly thereafter. The reactions were as follows:

Me: "The pizza!"
My mother: "My pizza stone!"
My father: "The house!"

The pizza was left unscathed and full of slightly smoky deliciousness.

My life has also become significantly more stress-free after quitting my editorship at the newspaper. Of course, this decision did not come without difficulties. Don't assume I mean the normal difficulties, either. Think more along the lines of an episode of Arrested Development, which is apparently what my life has degenerated (or upgraded?) into. This event went as followed:

SETTING:
Our protagonist enters the newspaper office, weeks of mental preparation for what she is about to do behind her. She is calm, tentatively rid of all sense of guilt. After all, she reasons, her colleague is here to take her place. This is all that stands between her and a chance at passing Organic.

OUR HERO: Hello all! I have something to tell you.

ALL: Okay! But can we tell you something first?

[Our hero assumes this will be an uneventful occurrence, and she agrees. After all, she's about to quit and nothing will get her down.]

ALL: Well, your colleague isn't coming tonight.

OUR HERO: Oh, still out of town, is he?

ALL: Actually, he cut his hand off.

OUR HERO: [double take] I'm sorry, what was that?

ALL: Oh, sorry! I meant to say, just his fingers.

OUR HERO: [relieved] Oh, okay. Wait...

ALL: But it's okay, because we still have our hero! She can make up for the fact that he can't take photos for a few months. We're so glad to have you on staff. Oh yes, what were you saying again?

OUR HERO: ...I quit!

ALL: [laughter]

OUR HERO: [laughs, or do we see a few tears?] ...because it's a joke, of course! Hahaha. But really. We still have that other photographer, right?

ALL: He was attacked by a dog. So he's out too.

OUR HERO CRIES INSIDE...AND OUTSIDE.

THE END.

Moral: Stay away from table saws.
More Important Moral: Don't ever let your sentence be interrupted. EVER.



Both hands, guys. Really?

"I've made a huge mistake."

"All this happened, more or less."

My name is Dana.

My hobbies include wishing there were more seasons of Arrested Development, (sometimes) attempting to establish that I am not an English professor with an identical name, encountering absurd situations that somehow almost always involve Bob Dylan, and trying desperately not to lose any lizards at my place of employment.


There is still no Arrested Development movie, I still receive emails from students eager to take Brit Lit, and I'm almost certain that there is now an independent population of anoles living throughout the pet store.  By all accounts, my hobbies are woefully unproductive ones.



Through a hilariously improbable set of circumstances, I have met many strange people who have told me many strange things. You'll hear about them here.