Showing posts with label Graduate School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graduate School. Show all posts

09 October 2011

Gutso

It's that time again, boys and girls! Halloween is nearly upon us!

In preparation for this most joyous of holidays, I have begun to make decorations. I will now carry you through the process of dressing up Gutso, the bear, for Halloween.









First, find a teddy bear for super cheap at a thrift store. This one cost $3.26. What a bargain!














Then, rip the thing open in several places.























Add fake blood.





 





 

Add more fake blood (I recommend that you stock up on blood. I ran out and wished I had more. I plan to purchase additional blood and gore him up even more) and use a lighter to burn the bear and make it look even more disgusting.

Isn't he cute?

08 October 2011

My Sushi Training Secrets

After having my sushi disaster a few weeks ago (see Sushi = Difficult), I was prepared for a long struggle to become a sushi master. The websites that claimed they could teach me how to make sushi all seemed to be omitting important details, and I was unable to find answers to my questions anywhere. And then one of my roommates told me about how my landlord teaches a sushi rolling class.


I thought maybe I could get into the class for free. I mean, I am his best tenant, right? Is there a better way for him to show his appreciation?


There must be, because I ended up paying full price for the class ($85), but I suppose it was worth it. The price was offset by the gut-busting amount of sushi I ate during the class and the massive sushi plate I took home afterwards (see picture to the right).


So, today, I will reveal the vital secrets I learned during my sushi class :


1) The Internet will tell you that you need to mix rice vinegar, sugar, and salt to make a seasoning for your rice. I bought a $7 bottle of rice vinegar and found that it smelt like the raunchiest feet that have ever stunk up this world and that no amount of sugar can neutralize the stench. SECRET : There is such a thing called Sushi Vinegar. It is premixed and does not smell of feet. Use that instead of your own attempted mixture.

2) One of the biggest problems I had last time was figuring out how to cook the rice. The Internet kept giving me different directions, none of which worked very well. SECRET : The best way to cook rice for sushi is in a rice cooker. If you can get one, do it (my landlord and lady are going to loan me one). Use a little less water per amount of rice. Example : 1 cup rice to 7/8ths cups water.

3) When making making your sushi roll, the rice will stick to your hands. SECRET : The rice will not stick to your hands if you keep them wet. You don't want them super wet because then the water will get into the rice and it will not stick together, but find a happy medium and you're golden.



4) The amount of rice you need to put on your seaweed is very important. Does the Internet tell you much about it? It sure doesn't.                      SECRETS :                                                         A) Use a good amount of rice so that the seaweed is covered but so that it is not too weighed down. You have to discover a happy medium.  B) Don't pack the rice too tightly onto your seaweed. When you roll the sushi, there must be room for the rice to smoosh and stick together. C) If you want the seaweed on the outside of your roll, leave about a half inch along one edge of it rice free (see picture to left). If you want a roll with the rice on the outside, cover the entire piece of seaweed. D) Make sure you spread the rice evenly all the way to the edges you want covered or else the end pieces of your roll will be flimsy and fall apart because there is nothing holding it together.


5) Cutting sushi is very difficult. My knife kept smashing the sushi and tearing it apart. SECRET : Water is necessary. Dip your knife in water and use quick, short sawing motions. It will keep your sushi from falling apart.


Of course, I am no sushi expert (yet), so there are many other tips and secrets which have not been included in this blog entry, but these are some very crucial tidbits of information. I would recommend taking a class so you can see how it is done in person, or at least watch a video instead of relying on written instructions which appear to be all-encompassing at first but leave you confused when you finally get to making your sushi.








Good luck!

05 October 2011

Pigeon Man and DJ Nitetrain

Oh, Boston, how I love thee and your masses of peculiar people.

Today, I was riding the T (Boston's subway) and noticed a strange man standing across the car from me. I will list what I noticed and thought about him in chronological order :

1) That guy is dancing (bending his knees so he bounced up and down and moving his arms and hands like he was a DJ -- scratching vinyl and adjusting knobs).
2) That guy is really tall and heavyset.
3) That guy doesn't look like the type to be dancing in public.
4) Oh, he's listening to music on big headphones.
5) He has a lot of rainbows on his clothes (a rainbow belt and belt buckle, a rainbow case covering his mini-disk player, and his headphones were colored like rainbows with Sharpie markers).
6) He has a large teddy bear with two smaller teddy bears tied to it. Why?
7) The case of the man's mini-disc player says DJ Nitetrain.
8) It's daytime.
9) Does he ride around and do this at night?
10) Does he do this to try and get money?
11) Is he practicing for his nightly train air DJ jam sessions?
10) Oh, crap, he just smiled at me. Look away!

After getting off the T and walking across Boston Common, I saw a man. But this was no ordinary man. He had dozens of pigeons hopping around his feet and several of them on his head and shoulders.

I tried to see if he had lured the pigeons with some kind of food, but I didn't see anything. I just think he has a special connection with those winged rats. I like to imagine that they all latch onto him and carry him from place to place.

I wanted to talk to him but he was already having a conversation with some woman. I felt like interrupting strangers is weird enough without asking why one of them is crawling with pigeons. I kept walking.

03 October 2011

Pierre Panda, the Cyborg Pirate King of Time Capsules

It is official. My group has decided to go with the children's time capsule book (see The Trouble with Time Capsules).

I am somewhat disappointed that we did not use my most amazing of ideas, but I am happy that we are well on our way with the project. I have been lucky enough to be paired with three very motivated and intelligent women, and I actually feel bad because I feel that they have done most of the work thus far.

As for the content of the book, readers will be carried through a cute narrative about a grandfather, named Gramps, telling his grandchildren, Zoey and her adopted Asian brother, Lucas, about time capsules. The children will not be very enthusiastic about time capsules at first but will gain excitement as they learn about the importance, history, and fun that surrounds such important historical preservation methods.

Did you just gag? I did.

It sounds very cheesey, but I think it will also be fun. We will, after all, have cartoons and semi-bratty kids. Oh, the possibilities!

I feel sorry for the other groups in my class. There are two other groups. One's book is an academic books about gospel music. It is intended for scholars and will be written by a professor. Boring. The other group's book is going to be a how-to guide about various legal circumstances that college students may find themselves in. The book will provide all kinds of legal information and will be semi-playful. Better, but it's no children's time capsule book.

In our most recent group meeting, we debated over having the characters be animals instead of humans. Someone suggested that we have a panda and set our imagination abalze.

The room we were meeting in had a dry erase board and someone attempted to draw a panda head but ended up with something that resembled Mickey Mouse. I tried to fix it buy giving the head a body with lettuce-like arms and legs. I also embellished by adding an eyepatch over one eye and a red, glowing cyborg eye for the other. I also named him Pierre Panda, the Cyborg Pirate King of Time Capsules.

Sadly, we won't be using Pierre in our book. He will, however, remain our unofficial group mascot. Now all we need is a fight song . . . written in French.

30 September 2011

Who is The Chicken Man?

I am such a good graduate student. I stay in and do homework late into Friday evenings (this is not the norm. I just have a super busy weekend ahead of me), and what happens when I look out my window for just a split-second?

Why, I spot the strangest vehicle I've ever seen driving down the road, of course!

It looked like a huge glass box on wheels and inside of this transparent cube was something. I couldn't really tell what it was because I was shocked and the box was far away and getting further away by the second, but I thought I saw someone inside. What I did see for certain was a big digital banner running along the outside of this moving glass house that read 617chicken.

617chicken?

I immediately recognized 617 as a Massachusetts area code and then realized that the word 'chicken' is consisted of seven letters. It wasn't 617chicken. It was (617) CHI-CKEN or (617) 244-2536! It was a phone number!

I thought that maybe this was a type of food truck that sells delicious chicken dishes and, having cash for once, I immediately called in the hopes of purchasing some sort of food from this mobile spectacle. Disappointment struck when I got an answering machine telling me that I had reached "the chicken man" and to "leave a message" so he could "get back".

I hung up.

Then I googled.

What I found was not informative whatsoever. There is a website (617chicken.com), but the links it provided did not explain a single thing. I checked the guy's Twitter account and found no enlightening information. The Facebook account was also a bust.

Who is the chicken man? Why is he driving around in a glass box? Are his websites and fan pages and twitter accounts in desperate need of updating or are they purposefully cryptic? Stay tuned!

Same chicken time! Same chicken channel!

I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

29 September 2011

Day of Oddities

I had a very strange day earlier this week. I kept crossing paths with unusual people, reading shocking things, and coming across strange occurrences that had no plausible explanations. Here's the run down.

I got off a bus at Harvard Square. I began walking down the sidewalk to the T (AKA the subway) entrance when a thin, older man rolled up to the curb on a bike and stopped. He had a long white beard and wore cut-off jeans and an open jean vest over his bare chest. Not paying this man much attention, I kept walking. Then the man began yelling. "I am tired of being stopped by Harvard police! I do not want to be stopped by Harvard police! I do not respect your establishment!" I turned around and saw the man yelling at a large gate that led into Harvard campus. He kept yelling about he did not respect Harvard or their police force. I wanted to yell back that we, meaning the general public, did not appreciate or respect raging hippies. Sadly, my fear of being stabbed with a crack pipe kept me from voicing my rebuttal.

After getting off the T, I emerged from the underground. A woman was walking in front of me and we passed by two men who were sitting on the ground next to a fountain. One was playing a guitar but both of them were singing what sounded like improvised lyrics. One of them, the dirtier and uglier and non-guitar-playing one, leaned forward as the woman in front me walked by. He looked at her and told her she was beautiful and asked for her number. The woman didn't pay him any attention but I wanted to kick that S.O.B in the teeth.

Later, I was reading The New York Times in the library and found two articles that were very interesting, yet odd, nonetheless :

Article 1 : Circumcision is believed to reduce the risk of males contracting HIV by 60%. There is a huge effort in Africa for widespread circumcision of adult males to help with their HIV and AIDS problems. One way activists hope to do accomplish their goals of foreskin removal is via an inexpensive and simple medical device. This device is a rubber ring that is locked around the penis and pinches the foreskin so that it will eventually die and fall off. The article said it was relatively painless process, and I agree that reducing the spread of HIV and AIDS is important. But, boy, I have never been more thankful for my parents taking care of that for me when I was a baby. Watching a watch part of my penis slowly die, wither and dry out, and then fall off does not sound fun at all.

Article 2 : One major health issue in Africa is the improper disposal of human waste. If it is not disposed of properly, it can leak into water supplies or even be tracked around and find its way into human food, causing illness. To help combat this, one company has issued the PoopPee bag. Yep. You guessed it. These are baggies that people are supposed to poop and pee into. The best part though, is how the bag is lined with a certain chemical that turns the human waste into fertilizer! These bags, after being filled, are supposed to be tied shut and then mailed to the company which will then give them to PoopPee bag sellers who go door to door selling this "fertilizer". While this may help alleviate some health problems, I have no idea how this is a socially acceptable solution.

After reading all about home procedures for adult male circumcision and the usefulness of PoopPee bags, I went into the bathroom. I approached the urinal and found the floor surrounding it shimmering with urine. My mind was boggled. Missing the urinal is simply not an option. You piratically stand over the dumb thing! That much pee on the floor had to have been intentional. Perhaps, the culprit was angry about the fines the library charged him and exacted his revenge in their bathroom. That, or someone tried to use a PoopPee bag but it didn't work out so well.

Later that day, I was in the Boston Common when I spotted a shirtless, older man up ahead of me. He was just standing. And then he took a step forward, stumbled, and then fell backwards in the most graceful and amusing way I have ever seen. He stuck his arms out and one leg out and kind of sat down with a slight roll onto his back. It almost looked intentional, like modern dance or something. But then, as he sat on the ground, he put a tiny plastic cup behind him and tried to lean against it for support as if it were the back of a chair. Then he just got up and walked away, looking around and mumbling to no one in particular.

It was an odd day. I checked to see if there was a full moon. There wasn't. Apparently, this is common in larger East Coast cities. I am totally fine with that.

26 September 2011

Like a Girlfriend

For those of you who have been in official (Facebook or otherwise) relationships, you have probably experienced what I am about to describe. In the beginning of a relationship, the two involved parties become inseparable. They just can't get enough of each other. And while they may fulfill their individual and necessary responsibilities, they are prone to procrastinate such things as homework or chores in exchange of spending more time in each others' presence. They stay up late and get little sleep and are exhausted for days on end, but they regret nothing and it is all worth it.

Do you know that feeling? I hope you do.

One of my roommates has recently begun a new relationship and is experiencing such things. My best friend has also just started seeing someone and I suspect she will also fall into this scenario as well. I have also found myself entrapped in this time-consuming phenomena. Only, I don't have a girlfriend. I have an addiction to the hit reality series, Big Brother.

I am obsessed with this show and will soon apply to be a contestant. To prepare myself for the competition, I have embarked on a strict Big Brother regime. I have decided to study all 13 seasons to learn the ins and outs like the back of my hand, to analyze strategies and see what worked and what didn't, to understand every aspect of this show so I can win if I am one of the lucky few who are selected to compete next summer.

This means that I have been watching a lot of Big Brother lately. I have found myself staying up until after midnight, usually until 1:00 or 2:00 am, but most dramatically until 6:00 am. I have found myself feeling sluggish the following days, but it has all been worth it. I regret nothing. But if there was something I regret, it would be my limited amount of time I can study this most marvelous of all television programs.

So, in a sense, Big Brother is like my girlfriend. It takes up all my time and deprives me of sleep, yet leaves me satisfied and yearning for me. Another perk of my love for this show is that Big Brother doesn't require me to spend any money. I am free from the pressures of being spontaneous and surprising it with unexpected bouquets of flowers or cheesy love notes.  Oh, and it always puts out . . . in the form of high-quality entertainment, that is.

24 September 2011

PORN REVIEWS

As I was rushing to catch my bus the other day, I looked down and saw a page from a newspaper all by its lonesome just laying on the sidewalk. I would have stepped right over it and gone on my way without a second thought, but something caught my attention. The big, bold title at the top of the page declaring -- "PORN REVIEWS" -- to be exact.

Porn Reviews? Do those things deserve being reviewed? Apparently, some people think they do.

Terrified at the potential of what could be said in such reviews, yet intrigued by the preposterous nature of it, I snatched up the paper, folded it, and put it in my cargo pocket for safe keeping. To be honest, I immediately thought this would give me something funny to blog about. Do you see, faithful readers, of how I am always looking out for you? I bet you, too, were unaware of such things as PORN REVIEWS. We shall live in darkness no longer!

There were three reviews : Supergirl XXX, The Sweetest Kiss, and Office Encounters.

I honestly had no idea what such a review would say. I imagined something along the lines of " . . . uh . . . yeah . . . sex . . . so hot . . ." I was wrong. While the reviews were not intelligent by any means, they were at least constructed with complete sentences. That is so much more credit than I would have given those perverts.

The biggest thing that struck me odd was that the reviewer complained about the lack of plotting and dialogue in The Sweetest Kiss and Office Encounters. As we all know, pornographic films are known for high quality dialogue and plotting. I can understand his disappointment. What?! It's a porno! What did the pervert expect? These movies are the lowest form of film and are aimed at doing one, single, disgusting, degrading, sickening thing. I'm sorry, porno review man, if you expected Office Encounters to have a woven web of plot arcs. I am equally sorry if you had been misled into purchasing The Sweetest Kiss because you thought it would be filled with witty, thought-provoking dialogue. I could see how you could have been misled by the classy titles and beautiful cover art on the DVD cases. You've been victimized! Do something about this! You go write an angry letter to Wicked Productions and Digital Sin Productions and let them know how short they have fallen of your high standards of erotic film!

Extreme Comixx, on the other and, which produced Supergirl XXX (directed by Sinister X and starring Sunny Lane and Buck Fuddy) is a much more credible film production company, that is if you can "see past the absurdity of a super suit with a super convenient fly." After all, it was "shot entirely in HD with intense close ups" and "could almost be mistaken for an instructional video" because of the "impressive displays of skills all around." The reviewer was very impressed with this "Collector's Edition 2 Disc Set [which] boasts over 8 hours of porn parody."

I will store these tidbits of information away for later use . . . when I want to feel violated or have a sudden desire to vomit.

21 September 2011

The Trouble with Time Capsules

Isn't it about time that I actually wrote something about my graduate career? For those of you who have been waiting for such scholarly content, your time for satisfaction has finally arrived!

One of my classes is titled : Book Publishing Overview. I love it. Or, rather, I loved the first two weeks of it. Things are starting to get a little hectic, and it's only three weeks into the semester.

For this class, we have one huge project that we will be working on during the entire semester. Essentially, we will be creating a book and going through all of the necessary steps to get it published (theoretically, of course). This entails : writing a summary of the book, writing a three to five page discussion of the book's content and rationale, creating a description of the intended audience, finding an author for the book and writing an author biography, creating an annotated table of contents of the book, and charting comparable and competing books in the past and present marketplace. Oh, but all that is just the stuff that's due within the next two weeks! The list goes on and on from everything to figuring out the costs and revenue, creating sample pages, determining specific production qualifications, creating the cover, laying out a publishing schedule, designing a marketing plan . . . it just doesn't stop.

Luckily, I am in a group of very dedicated, intelligent people. I know I can rely on them to get their work done and to do it well. Unfortunately, we see things a little differently. We have hit an early snag in our project -- figuring out what the book is going to be about.

Last week, we were given a list of vague topics. My group chose -- Time Capsules.

My initial reaction was to create a humor book -- something along the lines of what the time capsules of iconic families/individuals would include. For example, The Addams family would put Thing into their time capsule (which would be shaped like a coffin) and Marilyn Monroe would put in a used condom from one of her liaisons with JFK. The entire book would be illustrated, showing the famous family/individual and the items inside of their time capsules. I imagine satire and snide comments galore. I imagine hilarity abound. I did not, however, imagine the hesitation of my groupies.

While my groupies were intrigued by the concept, they were not sold. They were worried about marketability and such. Who would buy this book? Well, I answered, the same people who buy other humor books. How many of these could we actually sell? I responded that none of these books were best sellers, but we could still probably do pretty well.

What my groupies envisioned was a how-to book geared towards families with children.

My only problems with that idea is that A) It's so much more boring than my idea, and B) I don't know what else we would put in the book other than something along the lines of "Find a box. Put in stuff that's important to you. Now, bury it." What else is there to say about how to make a time capsule? Don't ask me.

We have yet to settle on either topic. For now, we are each brainstorming concrete ideas of what the content for either book would include. The most important thing we can decide is what direction we will be going with this project. I really hope my fun, funnest, funnerest idea pulls through, but it might be a hard sell. I have to come up with a lot of great, hilarious ideas to include in this humor book and hope I can convince my groupies of the potential greatness inherent in my idea.

I have a lot or work to do.

20 September 2011

The Mysterious Basement Unit

In the Boston area, it seems that most apartments were originally houses that are now cut up and divided into several units. The building in which I live is no exception. The original house has been cut into three apartment units - the basement, the main floor, and the upper two floors.

I live in the apartment in the upper two floors.

If one was to enter the back door of the house, one would step into a hallway that leads to all three apartment units. If one would turn right and go up the stairs, one would enter my apartment. If one was to go forward, once would enter the ground floor unit. And if one was to move down the hall and then down the stairs into the basement, one would enter the laundry room and be able to access the basement apartment. All of these apartments have lockable doors to prohibit anyone from just walking in through the back.

As for the basement unit, it does not take up the entire basement. A large portion of it is the "laundry room" . . . which is really just one washer and one dryer in a large, unfinished room that doubles as storage for all three units.

I have yet to meet the people living in either of the other two units. My roommates have met the people who live on the main floor. They are a married gay couple and I have been told that they are very nice. The basement tenants, however, are a mystery to all.

The other day, I was in the basement doing my laundry when I heard strange noises coming from the basement apartment unit. It sounded like something you would hear in an insane asylum. It was a groaning or a grunting or some strange combination. Whatever it was, it was creepy.

Another day, I heard a baby crying for about five seconds. Then it stopped and all was silent.

And then I realized that we never lock the door that leads to the back stairwell, which leads to the laundry room, which is connected to the basement unit whose tenants we have never met and from whence these strange noises have been coming.

How comforting.

But as none of us has been butchered in our beds, I think we'll be safe. Besides, I kind of like the danger. I'll just sleep with a baseball bat in my bed.

15 September 2011

Search Results

Blogger, the website that powers this blog, is awesome. It tracks certain statistics and conveniently displays them for me on my administrator page. One statistic they track is how people come across my blog. They divide this into referring sites, such as Facebook (find and like me on Facebook if you haven't already. And don't feel shy about referring me to your friends), and Google search results. The statistics about these search results have been very entertaining. They tell me how often someone has found my blog due to specific search results. For example, I know that 43 different people have found my blog by typing in "my worthless degree" in the Google search bar and clicking on the link that referred my blog. But that is the least interesting search result by which people have come across My Worthless Degree.

Here are some of my favorites (my reactions) and the corresponding blog entries (they are links, so feel free to click and read if you so desire) :

- cleavage baby (I don't even want to know) Thank You, Horrid Cleavage Baby
- "most of the balloons" (Is someone in clown school writing a historical report on balloons? The use of balloons as renewable energy sources? A suspected balloon uprising? I didn't realize clown school was so legitimately academic.) The 3 Stages of a Balloon's Life
- all aboard the ass train (Huh. I guess that phrase isn't as original as I thought.) All Aboard the Ass Train
- beard net sale (That's just silly. Who needs that many beard nets?) Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
- how to help a diabetic druggie (Shoot 'em in the face.) Diabetic or Druggie?
- pics of sexy lesbians dressed as fairies (Nerds! What? They searched for this between quests on World of Warcraft?) Glitter Dragons and Sexy (Sometimes Lesbian) Fairies
- nostril man (I like the images this creates in my mind.) Justin Bieber's Angry Twin, Hairy Nostril Man, and The Completely Inappropriate Guy
- velociraptors eating ice-cream (What flavor or ice-cream. Terrified human and caramel swirl?) Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
- bulliten board worm template (What does that even mean?) possibly Co-Worker Freak Show
- t-rex hates pushups (I do, too. Maybe if a T-rex is ever trying to eat me, I can distract him by bringing up our mutual dislike of pushups.) Co-Worker Freak Show
- facts about bragging (Fact #1 : Bragging is a good way to make people hate you.) Shameful Facts VS Bragging Rights
- does biglots sell microwaves (I've never been to a Big Lots and I'm okay with that.) possibly Ancient Loans

There was also a "referring site" that concerned me. It was http://pornfreetube.ru/. I feel so cheap and violated.

13 September 2011

When Pigeons Attack

I have spent some time around the Boston Common (a large park in the heart of downtown Boston) lately, and boy are there a lot of pigeons. I suppose every large city has a problem with them, but I've never lived in a big city before, so these everyday encounters with these winged rats are new to me.

Tonight, I would like to share two stories involving pigeons.

Pigeon Story #1 :

I was walking along, minding my own business when I heard a scream. I turned and saw a woman on her cellphone sitting in the Boston Common as a large number of pigeons darted past her on either side, most of them flying very closely. They weren't actually attacking her, but with the way she screamed, you might have thought they were. She covered her head and ducked down low and turned to look as the frenzied birds flew overhead. I saw a dropping fall. Sadly, it didn't hit the girl.

Pigeon Story #2 :

The other day, I bought myself some baked goods--a cherry cupcake with a lot of frosting and a blueberry muffin, to be exact. The weather was pleasant, and I decided to leave the confines of the library and enjoy my unhealthy snack in the Boston Common. I sat on a low retaining wall, not too far from a woman who was enjoying McDonald's french fries and also not very far from about seventy-five pigeons hopping around in the grass behind me.

The french fry-eating woman made the mistake of throwing a french fry into the grass for the pigeons to enjoy. They attacked, piling over each other and tearing at it with their beaks until it had completely disappeared. Then they noticed the remainder of the woman's fries poured out onto a napkin in her lap. A few of the pigeons stupidly hopped over and tried to get at her fries. The woman was not pleased. She started screaming at the pigeons "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Most of them obeyed and abandoned their fry hijacking, but a few of them retreated only to double back to make a second attempt. The woman began screaming as loud as she could, this time I think it was in another language--either French or Wino--and thrashed her arms about to defend her precious fried potato sticks, making a complete spectacle of herself.

I felt horrible. Not for her, but because I didn't have my camera on me.

12 September 2011

Cheap Chicken

I am a fan of chicken. Not chickens, as in the animals--but chicken, as in the meat. It is oh, so tastey and can be prepared in many delicious ways. Chicken alfredo . . . chicken enchiladas . . . chicken cordon bleu . . . grilled chicken breasts . . .  . . . Shake and Bake . . . the list joyously goes on and on!

One of the toughest things that I had to deal with after moving to the Boston area was the increase in the price of food. Where I was from, boneless chicken breasts were easily found at under $2.00/pound. Here, the closest grocery store was selling their boneless chicken breasts at $5.00/pound! I almost fainted in the aisle!

I grumbled my way away from the outrageously priced poultry and sought out other stores with more moderate chicken prices. The only other place I found was an Asian market which was selling their boneless chicken breasts at the low, low price of $2.49/pound. The sad thing was that I couldn't be sure if it was safe to eat or not. Using the cleanliness of the store and the visual quality of the packaging of the meat, I decided it would be in my best interest to pass.

I had resigned to the fact that I might never be able to each meat in this expensive town. A few days after I allowed myself to sink to this pit of despair, I saw a grocery ad. Boneless chicken breasts for $1.99/pound?! I rearranged my schedule and went to the store as soon as I possibly could and bought 13 pounds of that discounted goodness. I would have gotten more if I didn't share a freezer with four other grown men. 13 pounds should last me a few weeks. I will have to use it sparingly and keep my eye on those ads with an unfailing hope that meat will once again fit into my meager, graduate student budget.

But for now, I will rejoice. I bought Hot N Spicy Shake and Bake the other day and I know how to use it.

07 September 2011

My Bitch

My graduate career has officially begun, and, unsurprisingly, my anxiety level has skyrocketed. The first week of classes has come and gone for me, and I am already freaking out.

Can I really do this whole graduate school thing? Will I have enough time to do all of my homework? Will I be smart enough? Will I be smart enough to develop professional connections that will benefit me in finding a career? What internships should I try to get? Am I ruining my life?

Am I being overdramatic? Not really. Graduate school has been a dream of mine for a long time and I am in a program that offers me everything I could possibly want--in terms of study, practical experience, and opportunities to make professional connections. I need to take this seriously. I just think these first couple of weeks will be difficult until I develop and settle into a routine. I like routines. They help me know what to expect, and if I know what to expect, I can plan for it weeks in advance and rock its world.

It also doesn't help that I don't know this city, haven't developed many strong friendships with anyone, haven't found a gym I like, am not used to the higher price of food (meat especially--boneless chicken breasts for $5.99/pound?! Are you kidding me?!), don't have a job and have this horrible feeling of dread regarding my finances, have been out of school for a year, and no longer have a car. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I'm a spaz. That sure doesn't help.

In the long run, I know I'll be fine. I think it's healthy to freak out at the beginning of one's graduate career, to just get it all out and then move on. And now that that's out of the way, I'm ready to make this program my bitch.