A New Hope

I went to a Women in Science Retreat this past weekend. We all gathered in a camp: the kind of camp you would spend a week in as a little kid, complete with bunks and fire pits and a dining hall and a little lake with a diving board. It was like a conference, in that there were panels and workshops and a poster session; but instead of wearing heels and button-downs, we were wearing hiking boots and outdoor clothing. Instead of going back to hotel rooms at the end of the day, we gathered in our cabins and slept together in big bunkrooms like we had in the sleepaway camps of our childhood. We sat cross-legged on each other's bunks and talked about weddings and jobs and car payments, bad PI's and good PI's and our latest family gossip.

It was hella fun.

My main takeaway from it was actually a long conversation I had with one of the panelists. Her name is Jessica Marshall, and she works as an editor for Chemical and Engineering News (a publication of the American Chemical Society). Before that, she was a freelance science writer for 10 years. And what was most significant to me was that she also had a PhD in chemical engineering.

I hadn't admitted it to anyone, or even really myself, but I had kind of written off science writing as a professional career. My experience with it as an undergraduate, both in classes and at my MechSE job, implicitly informed me that it was a field of journalists who liked science rather than a field of scientists who liked writing. I was a scientist first. I knew that. It's why I'm in grad school. I'm going to get a PhD, hell or high water. With that in mind, joining a group of journalists who liked science and making it my career seemed like a bit of a waste of my PhD. So I resigned myself to the age old question of "industry or academia" (each of which has always had an equivalently lukewarm appeal to me), and figured I'd wait to decide on a career until the absolute last second.

That changed this weekend. I approached Jessica at the evening social.
(I ask you to picture this--the basement of the camp dining hall, the door to the outside open and letting the smell of rain permeate the room, grad students in sweatshirts and raincoats with a few professionals scattered in between, everyone holding plastic cups of wine or beer, introducing entropy to the well-ordered chairs from the panel audience by forming them into randomized social groups. The booze was in plastic ice tubs, the red wine in large bottles scattered on the table between empty bags of chips and crackers. A large cardboard box sat off to the side with "Recycling!!" written on it in thick looping sharpie, its bottom filling rapidly with bottles and cups.) 
She was incredibly nice. She seemed to like my enthusiasm, and was eager to talk about her experiences. You're wrong, she said, about a science PhD being wasted on science writing. There were plenty of jobs, such as with Nature or scientific publications, where PhD science writers were wanted, were needed. Most of the people she worked with at C&EN--and almost ALL of her superiors--were PhD scientists. It was absolutely a valid career path for me.

Before I fell in love with physics, I wanted to go into writing. I wanted to be a journalist, an editor--but physics won out. When I found out that science writing was an actual field, I thought I had finally answered the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" That, I thought. I want to be that. Then it seemed like science writing would be a sacrifice of my science, that the PhD I wanted so badly wouldn't really be used to its potential. Physics won out again. What a roller coaster.

Now I'm back on the path to being a science writer, and it's actually terrifying. Science writing is the one career that really excites me when I think about it, that really inspires passion and a desire to pursue it. But it also seems like a much harder path. I'm looking up master's programs, national societies to join, places to submit publications...and it seems like it's just all so above my head. I've been surrounded by the "industry or academia" binary for so long, those two seem like the safest possible choices. Wading into the world of PhD-level science writing appears positively daredevil in comparison.

But I'm inspired, and determined. I'm willing to fight for it. And that scares me too, a little, but in a good way.

Meditative Weather

It seems like it's been warm and brilliantly sunny for weeks now. I find it so funny that Seattle has literally just TWO weather settings--overcast, dreary, and constantly drizzling, or bright, warm, and blindingly sunny--and just switches between them twice a year. It's April? Whoop, time for sun. It's October? Whoop, time for rain. April again? Whoop.

And this beautiful weather is actually quite terrible, because who wants to be doing work on days like this? Who would want to stay inside? But we must, we must, because stuff actually does have to get done once in a while.

This quarter has definitely been a lot more laid-back than the previous two. The homework sets are slightly lighter, the exams are lower-pressure (they don't matter for the master's review!), and overall I find myself with a lot more time. Which is nice for two reasons: I can actually get things done that slightly resemble research, and I can start really taking part in activities that fulfill me.

For research, I'm starting to work with a computational condensed matter group. Whether or not there's a future for me in the group is still kind of up in the air; the professor is emeritus, and although he has no plans to stop doing research, I've been trying to use my Deanna-Troi-level empathic senses (heh) to feel out how likely it is that members of his group will leave...the jury's still out.

For fulfilling activities, I've started working out a lot more. I've also figured out the long-elusive secret to running: run from work.

Running in the morning never happens. It never does. Not ever. And once I get home from work, the last thing I want to do is put on running clothes and go back outside. So instead, I bring my running clothes and shoes to work, and tell myself I have to go run before I can go home. It's worked like a dream so far. Is this a "life hack"? Would Buzzfeed want to talk to me about this? pls let me know.

Home

We went to Green Lake Park yesterday. It was really a beautiful day, sunny but cool. We sat on a bench, Bryce's arm around my shoulders, and pointed out every single dog that passed. "Ooh look at that one." "That puppy has freckles on his nose!" "Is that a miniature Doberman?" "No, I think that's a different breed altogether. Cute, though." "Aww, what a fluffy floof."

It was therapeutic.

We went out to dinner, still with windswept and sweaty hair from biking, and were seated at the best table in Cedar's. The food (Indian) was delicious, although slightly too spicy. I've started keeping a list of preferred restaurant spiciness. It currently consists of "Cedar's: 2 stars."

This morning we got to Zoka Coffee (a cafe very near to our apartment) early enough to grab great seats. It's a beautiful cafe. The entire outside wall is pure windows. The tables and chairs and floor are all old wood. The place is neat and clean, with small pieces of photography on the walls. 

I think what I like most about it is that it isn't a typical Seattle cafe. Sometimes it feels like every cafe in Seattle is competing to be "city's quirkiest coffee shop." Which, you know, is cool and hip and whatever, but sometimes I'd just like to sit and have jasmine tea without a full-sized bike-riding skeleton hanging on the wall above my head, ya know? And yes, that exists here. I haven't gone back to that place. The other wall decorations were just as irritating.

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How long does it take for a place to feel like home? If you Google that question, there are just mountains of forum posts of people asking the same question, over and over: "How long will it take for me to feel comfortable in this place?" "When will it feel like we've finally settled in?" "How long does it take? How long does it take?" And people responding, over and over: "Be patient. It won't happen in a day. Go out and explore. Join clubs, join a softball team, find a favorite coffee shop or a favorite park, build a routine."

Bryce and I have been here for 6 months. Wow! I just counted that up and I hadn't realized it had been that long. It doesn't feel like it's been 6 months. Didn't we just move here a month ago or something? 

Anyway, it's given me a lot to think about in terms of what makes something feel like home. Is it knowing the area? No. I navigated us to Green Lake with ease yesterday. Is it having a favorite coffee shop? No. As much as I love Zoka, I've really only been here three times or so. Is it having a routine? That's an interesting one. I wouldn't know. I don't quite have one yet.

Some things are routine. I have cardio kickboxing every Sunday at 5. I like to walk to the grocery store afterward. It's a mildly long walk, and my legs are a little tremble-y from the workout, but I like it. I buy ingredients for dinner or for a meal I can make for weekday lunches. Bryce meets me at the grocery store, and we drive home to cook. I really like that routine. It's calming. 

I've also joined a Meetup group: Geek Girls of Seattle. It's refreshing to meet new people who aren't in graduate school. They have jobs, some have kids and husbands, some are stay-at-home people, and all have geeky interests. There's a book club meeting for it later today. I'm very excited to be part of a book club. 

But it's not quite home yet. And I should probably be patient. I feel like I'm doing all the right things to make it home. We explore, we do things, we have a favorite Thai restaurant, I'm doing my best to meet people. But I guess, at the end of the day, it's not really about doing the "right things." Home is something you make, yes. But I really think "home" is also something that just happens. Be patient.

Sleepless in Seattle

I've been having some serious insomnia problems recently. It doesn't help that with no structure to my life and no commitments, I could easily stay in bed until 5pm. (I haven't! Yet.) Going to bed and waking up at reasonable hours is an exercise in discipline, which is a trait I'm not entirely sure I possess.

A lack of structure in my life generally makes my mental health take a turn for the worse (see: summer 2014). The first few days here in Seattle were very rough. We were sleeping on the floor, with no furniture, and nowhere to store our belongings strewn across the carpet. Most of our kitchen things were still being shipped by UPS. We were buying the necessities one trip to Target at a time. We had no internet. We had to carry everything up four flights of stairs to our apartment. We had to assemble all of the IKEA furniture. We had to go out and buy a mattress, then wait for it to be delivered. We needed sheets, aluminum foil, a shower curtain, bar stools, milk, pillows, a trash can with trash bags, etc etc etc.

Moving into our apartment in Urbana didn't seem so bad. We knew the area, my parents came down to help, the place was furnished so we had somewhere to sit when we were tired that wasn't the floor. But here, we knew no one and had very little. The apartment sort of built itself into a home in a very piecemeal fashion, and the process was painful and lonely. Yes, I say lonely! Even having Bryce with me! I can't explain it. Something about being across the country from everything you knew. Something about being in a place that is entirely foreign to you.

We've been here for almost three weeks now. Things are getting more familiar. I like the coffee shop just down the street. (The barista complimented me on my Janeway sweatshirt.) We've biked and walked to campus, and explored a little bit of the University District. We've been to Northgate, Fremont, and on Tuesday we decided to go downtown for happy hour sushi. We've tried local Thai, Pho, Indian/Pakistani, and even vegan pizza restaurants. (The cheese left something to be desired, but their fake chicken and the crust were both delicious.)

Money is also somewhat of a stressor, as we won't be paid until Oct 10th. But we have enough in savings to get by, as long as we don't eat out too often (which is so, SO HARD when you're surrounded by this many awesome-looking restaurants of all genres!! seriously I can't emphasize enough how hard it is, we could literally go to a different restaurant every night for weeks and still have new places to go; what I wouldn't give to be a millionaire with the metabolism of an Olympic athlete).

The weather is beautiful. The hottest day since we've been here was yesterday, and the high was 78! Ha! It has also only rained two or three days. The rest of the time, it's beautifully sunny. It seems like the sun is brighter here. Like, consistently-hurt-your-eyes kind of bright. I might be imagining it.

Our couch finally came yesterday! A cheap futon with a metal frame, from Walmart. We had been sitting in folding camping chairs to watch TV. This is much better. We've gone through almost four seasons of Fringe in just the time we've been here.

Only 11 days left until shit starts happening! Until then, we'll keep exploring. We have plans to go to the San Juan Islands next week!

My Skin Wants Me Dead

Soooo I have eczema. I had it when I was little, and then it went dormant until I was 20. I had a brief break from it throughout last summer, fall, and winter, and now it has emerged in a glorious flare-up to end all flare-ups.

To make matters worse, my family and I just spent 10 days in Disney World. My family takes Disney World very seriously. We are up at 6am, at the parks by 7:30, and first in line for the rope drop. Then we positively ravage the park, hitting every ride we possibly can (some of them multiple times), and depart just before dinner. Every day. We spent 10 hours at the Magic Kingdom.

For those of you unfamiliar with eczema, its mortal enemy is the sun. Despite spraying myself with a thick layer of sunscreen (that stung my eczema patches like CRAZY, EUGH), my skin decided it was offended at just the very notion of being exposed to sunlight for extended periods of time, and broke out in large evil rashes with bumps and scales and all other manner of despicable skin texture you could imagine. By the time I was on the airplane home, the dry air being pumped into the cabin made it feel like my arms and neck and eyelids were positively on fire.

So I am now in a state of permanent stickiness as I slather myself in steroid ointments I dug up (specifically, Clobetasol, for anyone interested) and copious amounts of Aquaphor. I've had to be careful not to touch my elbows to the couch cushions. They leave a sticky spot.

Sun exposure will continue to be a problem over the next month. Bryce and I are spending a week at his uncle's house on the Gulf coast in Galveston, TX, where we will spend a lot of our time on the beach. Same for our next vacation shortly after, where we go to Cape Cod and spend a lot of our time on the beach (or in Boston).

To that end, I have bought baby sunscreen. For my poor, baby skin.

We'll see how it goes. I'll be sure to post an update.

As a final note, my mother suggested going gluten-free. Super-skeptic that I am, I immediately balked at the thought. But perhaps I will try it, as scientifically as I can. Of course, it will be a single-subject, qualitative study. Not exactly journal-ready. But perhaps we'll try, once all of these vacations are over.

I am a vampire

Bryce and I opened a joint checking account with Chase! The banker was very nice and very funny. When we said we were moving to Seattle, he said something about the lack of sunlight there.

"Well, I'm a vampire," I deadpanned. "So it fits."

He looked at my super-pale arms and shook his head. "You know what? I would not be surprised at all."

Our debit cards for the joint account will come in the mail soon. It will be nice not to constantly be keeping track of who pays for what, and for how much. We're also considering getting a credit card to rack up mileage, attaching it to the joint account. Such adult. Very maturity.

I also went for a run with Amanda down at the park. It was a beautiful day. The sun is warm, but the wind is cool, and there were plenty of people at the park rollerblading, walking their dogs, and biking. I've been using the Nike+ app; it tracks you by GPS and keeps track of a bunch of data like splits, average pace, and the amount of miles you have on a certain pair of shoes. Love it. If any of you are on Nike+, hit me up!! I want friends on the app!

Graduation weekend was a blast. So many family members--we filled up a 14-person table at Buca di Beppo's. There was literally not a single meal I ate that weekend that wasn't a restaurant meal. I must have put on 10 pounds in those three days alone. We're still eating the leftovers, and it's Thursday!! So much for eating healthy over the summer.

I liked graduating. I'm not really sad one bit. I'm sad to be leaving the people I love so much, but not to be leaving undergrad. I was done. I checked out several months ago. It felt really good to be recognized for the grand accomplishment of obtaining a degree in physics. Really, really good. 10/10, would highly recommend. I love being done, and I love that I have a great career in grad school to look forward to, and I love that Bryce and I get to take the summer off in between. How fantastic is that?

Speaking of, I put our vacations into a monthly calendar and holy moly. We will be extrEEEmely busy for the next month and a half. And it's going to be fantastic.

First, the memorial day parade this weekend. Then, camping for three days at Kickapoo. Then Harry's graduation, then DISNEY WORLD. I am so ready.

Too Much Freedom

I've been struggling recently with my final essay projects. I have one for journalism, one for LAS, and one for French--and they all are "prompt-less." Take a subject we've discussed, use works we've read, write about something that's personally important to you while still being relevant to the course material. I'm about to explode.

They probably think they're doing us a favor by giving us this freedom to write about what we want to write about. The problem is, if I wrote about what I wanted to write about, it would be a blog post, not a formal essay. And especially not one in French.

My French essay went horribly. I switched topics three times, and still ended up with a thesis and essay that absolutely sucked AND I only got 2.5 pages out of it instead of the required 5. It's quite possible I will fail that class. But I'm struggling to care. My GPA is so locked-in that it would take quite a disaster for me to drop below a 3.5, and not officially acquiring a French minor isn't that big of a deal to me. No one cares about your minors anyway; they're kind of more for you than for your resume. And I definitely got a lot out of my French minor, regardless of whether or not it ends up on my transcript.

Happy Mother's Day to all!