Zzzzzzzz....
It is 9 o'clock. My fellow Royals have been folding their laptops shut and calling it a day one by one since about 5. The only person keeping me company now is Taka, who appears to be stuck in some mess of a protocol that involves a lot of time in the cold room. I have a sinking feeling that this is a protocol I have written. I have guilt.
A few hours ago when Eric "Postdoc #3 of 7" Cambronne was buttoning up his jacket to leave, he came into my bay to say goodbye.
"This push you're making... this is the stuff of which legends are made."
"Wuh"?" Looking up blearily from my lab notebook, I just catch Eric's dead-pan expression shift into a twinkly smile.
"Y'know... got up at 3:30. Flew here from Texas this morning. Now you're going all out doin' mad experiments. It's epic."
Number Three is making me nervous. I can't tell if he's making fun of my obsessive need to do the experiment I'm doing, or if he's actually complimenting me on my neurotic work ethic. My other labmates have all solidly taken the former position, making various comments throughout the afternoon:
"Go home, Dude. Just go home."
"You're crazy."
and, the most helpful/colorful:
"You look pretty delirious. You better not f*** that up. Then you'll be really steamed."
All points taken, thank you. And I will go home pretty soon, but for now I'm still cruising around on some mysterious source of energy - most likely derived from a potent combination of really really wanting to now the result of my 'speriment and the numerous toffee almond crunch thingies I've eaten from my most recent care package.
Some people will remember their years in grad school in increments of research success or failure. Others seem to mark the years in terms of how they relate to their advisor (first year: worshipful. second year: worshipful. third year: vaguely distrustful. fourth year: nervous avoidance. fifth year: openly hostile etc...) Me, I think my memories of grad school won't be nearly as chronological. I think that I will remember being tired. I will remember eating a lot of instant oatmeal from packets I hide in my file drawer. I will remember being very glad that I didn't just go home because it was crazy not to do so. And I will be happy that Eric and my other labmates, ever prone to mocking hyperbole, were with me to narrate.
A few hours ago when Eric "Postdoc #3 of 7" Cambronne was buttoning up his jacket to leave, he came into my bay to say goodbye.
"This push you're making... this is the stuff of which legends are made."
"Wuh"?" Looking up blearily from my lab notebook, I just catch Eric's dead-pan expression shift into a twinkly smile.
"Y'know... got up at 3:30. Flew here from Texas this morning. Now you're going all out doin' mad experiments. It's epic."
Number Three is making me nervous. I can't tell if he's making fun of my obsessive need to do the experiment I'm doing, or if he's actually complimenting me on my neurotic work ethic. My other labmates have all solidly taken the former position, making various comments throughout the afternoon:
"Go home, Dude. Just go home."
"You're crazy."
and, the most helpful/colorful:
"You look pretty delirious. You better not f*** that up. Then you'll be really steamed."
All points taken, thank you. And I will go home pretty soon, but for now I'm still cruising around on some mysterious source of energy - most likely derived from a potent combination of really really wanting to now the result of my 'speriment and the numerous toffee almond crunch thingies I've eaten from my most recent care package.
Some people will remember their years in grad school in increments of research success or failure. Others seem to mark the years in terms of how they relate to their advisor (first year: worshipful. second year: worshipful. third year: vaguely distrustful. fourth year: nervous avoidance. fifth year: openly hostile etc...) Me, I think my memories of grad school won't be nearly as chronological. I think that I will remember being tired. I will remember eating a lot of instant oatmeal from packets I hide in my file drawer. I will remember being very glad that I didn't just go home because it was crazy not to do so. And I will be happy that Eric and my other labmates, ever prone to mocking hyperbole, were with me to narrate.
posted by Eva Marie at 8:23 PM
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