This month has me questioning whether I like sharing stories because I like sharing stories, or I like sharing stories because I like to like sharing stories. (There are a lot of “likes” in that sentence, but the extra one holds importance– much like how when my cognitive science professor talks about intersubjectivity, he describes it as “I know that you know that I know you know,” with that last bit being imperative to defining the mutually-understood shared understanding.) Cogsci lectures aside, the time commitments I’ve sustained this quarter have definitely put me under some pressure in considering whether I make choices based on obligation or passion. Continue reading
A short note to make sure I don’t already break the goal of semi-regular writing in the first month of the year.
I told myself I would write at least one blog post every month, so here we are. I tried writing something on my actual birthday as I was sitting in my parked car at the beach, breakfast burrito in hand, but let me tell you– it’s a little difficult to type while one hand is occupied holding approximately a pound of eggs, potatoes, and cheese. Continue reading
Why choose a to tell one story over another? Sometimes it’s interest, sometimes it’s inspiration, and other times it’s intrusion. I am relatively new to the rising wave emphasizing science communication, but here are a few of my current thoughts dumped into text so I can (hopefully) continue to process them as I learn more. Continue reading
My laptop’s spacebar has become a little sticky to the point where occasionally I have to pull out my school ID card, stick the edge under the key, and wiggle it up and down to bring it back to life. I’ve had this computer almost as long as I’ve had this blog, and despite a few hiccups now and then, it’s still running strong (knock on wood). Continue reading
I bask in the silence of my freshly packed-up, on-campus apartment as I crunch through a $1 bag of purple grapes. I’m sitting on the floor, leaning against the closet my roommate and I shared. The closet is completely empty now, an odd sight considering the volcanoes of clothing and empty shopping bags she and I both hid behind the cream-colored double-doors.
I was the first to settle into our room back at the start of this year. Among a spontaneity-embedded weekend of taking the train between San Diego and LA, I started sorting my belongings into new homes: a haphazardly-made bed, empty hangers waiting for clothes, books on desk shelves closely following. My new roommate hadn’t moved in yet. As I sit here now, my lovely roommate has just finished moving out (big shoutout, she’s the best), my books are safely stowed away, and my bed remains half-intact for the final night of this school year. Continue reading
Spring quarter often brings long days and late nights holed up with leftovers and hot water in homes outside home, at the tip of a mundane hill.
Many nights–ones that contain spending upwards of seven hours in a glorified closet on the farthest outskirts of campus–send me clattering down the hill on a rental bike in avoidance of a midnight walk under broken street lamps, fluorescent metal frame creaking on cement and cobblestone. The new building’s lights are still on, flooding the walkway’s outlined squares with butter yellow. Whisk past wooden structures–student center, bookstore, branches squealing in protest of slight wind. This courtyard’s lawn is bigger than students left it this morning. Cross a lake–no, puddle–and startle at an awoken sprinkler. Continue reading
Back in November, the week of Thanksgiving break (actually, the night before Thanksgiving day), I found myself stranded at 12:35am with fifty other people and steady rain in a parking lot in downtown Los Angeles. Usually, I fly back to the Bay Area from my school in San Diego– if I book my tickets sufficiently in advance, the costs are worth the visit back home; however, this time, I didn’t book my flight tickets early enough. Seat availability plummeted, prices skyrocketed, and I decided that taking the budget-friendly bus would be a good alternative.
I didn’t sleep more than an hour that night. We ended up left in that parking lot for reasons I’m to this day unsure of– the bus driver had stopped, told us all to vacate the bus because we were supposed to transfer, and promptly drove off as soon as the last person had removed their bag from the under-bus storage. Needless to say, there was no transfer.
We were in that parking lot for about an hour and a half until the company sent a replacement bus to pick us up. I tried to doze off again on this bus, but the frigid air blowing through the vents kept my mind active even though my body was craving rest. We made it to San Francisco by seven thirty in the morning, and I reached my home by eight. Continue reading