This is a new Scientopia blog that will be hosting a wonderful slate of non-Scientopia bloggers for two-week guest-blogging stints. Have fun!
Wheat
is currently the bane of my existence.
I threw up a lot first trimester. After all sorts of stuff. Coming into second trimester (and weaning off metformin-- I have PCOS and insulin resistance, which means I have an increased chance of miscarriage first trimester and gestational diabetes third trimester, especially if I eat refined grains or sugars), one thing still makes me throw up.
Wheat.
I'll eat something with wheat in it, purposefully or not. (Oh, Tempura... Oh, Worcestershire sauce...How you wound me.) Then an hour or two later, I will empty the contents of my stomach. I will repeat the process after the next meal no matter what I ate for that second meal. I will spend the next day or two feeling queasy depending on how much wheat I ingested.
I hate this.
The internet tells me it could be two things. I could have a wheat allergy or I could have celiac (wheat intolerance is less likely). Both can be triggered by pregnancy. If it is an allergy, it might go away. If it is celiac, I am stuck with it for life. If it is an allergy, according to the 'net, it could become life-threatening by suddenly causing me to be unable to breathe (so I should carry around allergy meds just in case). If celiac, it could hurt the baby's growth if I'm not careful.
I brought my inability to eat wheat up at the doctor's appointment and she was all, "Just don't eat wheat"... and I'm like, Lady, it could be an allergy and could go away or it could be celiac, and celiac is pretty serious. So basically she was no help. (This was one of many reasons I switched back to my original doctor the next day, despite doctor #1's overbooked schedule.)
The internet suggested a test to me to see if it is more likely to be celiac or an allergy (since throwing up is a symptom of either, and it doesn't stay down long enough to present other symptoms). Apparently rye has gluten in it, so you can't eat it if you're celiac but you can eat it if you're allergic. So I ate some rye wasa wafers and was fine, so hopefully the internet is right and it's an allergy that will go away in a few months (because insulin resistance + celiac = misery). Of course, I'm a bit sick of rye wasa wafers from overdoing it on them even before the anti-wheat stuff popped up.
I LOVE Indian food. I love lentil flour. I love papadam and pakora and methu vada and some of the dosa. One of our admin assistants told me there's an Indian place in the city that does gluten-free lentil noodles-- man I wish I could try those. I was loving sushi (cooked or veggie only) until the tempura mistake. Also sweet potato is on my "ugh" list because a lot of things just don't taste good anymore once you've tried them the other direction. I'm getting a bit tired of brown rice cakes and a bit tired of oatmeal (recall, I can't eat refined grains because of glycemic load... so there are a lot of corn, rice, and potato options that are closed to me). We keep a pot of cooked quinoa or brown rice in the fridge at all times. Sometimes I'll use beans in place of noodles. While the family enjoys spaghetti... I pretend I'm in a different part of Italy.
Last time around I was unable to eat wheat for a while, but it was combined with my inability to keep *anything* except fruit down. So it wasn't just the wheat. And it went away by now, I think. (My memory is kind of fuzzy at this point, but I think it stopped shortly after 2nd trimester started. Definitely after I'd gotten off Metformin.)
So... not much point to this post (in fact, we debated letting it go up while we're cross-posting at Scientopia as it is not particularly academic!), but I'm feeling sorry for myself! I could do wheat-free OR insulin resistant, but doing both SUCKS exponentially. And I am so glad a good Indian place came to town last year so I can eat there at least once a week.
Controversial: Making kids do things they don't want to do
Deliberately controversial posts are meant to spark debate. This one may not be quite as controversial as some of our previous offerings (homeschooling, labels, feminism...), but let's see what you think. (Issues of parenting often get the most arguing. We find this fact both sad and amusing at the same time. Kind of like much of life.)
We grew up Catholic, so obviously we grew up with the underlying philosophy that a lot of things that are good for you are painful. "It builds character," my mother would say anytime I'd complain. "Yes, just think of all the years I'm burning off of Purgatory," I would reply.
There was also that Midwestern Protestant stoicism telling us what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. We're not sure how much we believe it, but it is in our blood pushing us ever onward.
That's not the message we hear coming out of the coasts, the NYTimes, the mommy forums... That message is that if kids don't like something, they shouldn't have to do it. Schools shouldn't give homework. Kids shouldn't do extra-curriculars they don't like (or at all!). Tiger Moms are horrible people. Five year olds should be red-shirted so they can play in the dirt another year before starting school. Kids need to play, not learn. Why do kids need to read? (But... but... my kid LOVES reading/learning/math.) I think Cloud said it best when she talked about adults projecting that they wished they had lots of free time on their kids (and, as a corollary, that they don't like math). The Rousseau dream-child concept is still hard at work.
(Somehow when it comes to a gifted kid being bored, then they really need to learn to be bored... it's ok to force a kid to be bored but not ok to force a kid to do activities.)
I did swimming lessons for 7 years, but didn't want to quit. I had to do piano lessons for 9 years. I'm glad I wasn't allowed to quit. I did Ballet lessons for 5 years. I wish I'd been allowed to quit a lot earlier. I did Catholic Sunday School or CCD until I was in 4th grade, despite constant complaining. I'm not sure if I wish I'd been allowed to quit sooner or not, considering I switched religions and went of my own volition once no longer forced to be Catholic.
Growing up there were many things I was forced to do I wish I didn't have to do, and many things I'm glad I was forced to do, knowing what I do now. Younger me isn't a great predictor of older me's preferences, and who knows if parents are better or not. Hopefully they're a little better.
So: Bottom line: We think that sometimes it's ok for kids to do things in their best interest even if they don't wannnna. We still wish we hadn't had to go to public school. Blech.
Grumpeteers? Your thoughts?
Pondering productivity, and trying to hack it
What is your ideal self? (In California, we were allowed to ask this type of question.)
The me that I want to be is more productive than the me that I am. The real me, the true me, the me that I want to be... she's organized, she gets things done, even if she's had bad luck. She's also had good luck. She needs to keep moving forward and take advantage of the opportunities she's had and has, and work to create more opportunities for her in the future. Even if doing so makes a subset of senior people think she's bigger than her britches. (If she were male, they wouldn't dream of thinking that-- she never hears people complain when men make their own opportunities, only when women do. She has not yet had the courage to ask folks to check their bias when she hears these stories.)
We've had several posts about hacking our productivity in the past. Obviously it is a work in progress.
Virginia Valian has an incredible paper called Solving a Work Problem that I keep coming back to. If you have ever had writer's block, do yourself a favor and click the link for a PDF, seriously. One thing she says in it is that "people are not wrong about their true selves" (p. 101). So if you think that you really are a scientist or a writer, in spite of the fact that you're not getting as much done as you want, you still are that thing. We are always attempting to be more productive over here.
Here's some strategies we're trying to use:
I wrote myself a syllabus last semester -- for my writing. Just like my regular syllabi, it had a list of dates throughout the semester and what should be done by then. I put course outcomes on the front page and a list of recommended readings, as well as expectations for myself. I stole this idea from a fellow junior faculty member and I think it is brilliant! Here's a little excerpt:
Office hours: writing will take place Monday evenings for at least 30 minutes,
Tuesdays all day (along with research) for at least a total of two hours,
Thursdays from 1 to 3pm, and Fridays from 1:30 to 4pm at [Coffee Shop].
Exceptions: travel; Thanksgiving break
On Sundays, all work of any kind must be completed by 11pm.
Class Days/Times: Lab meetings are Wednesdays from 2-3pm and I must be prepared for them. Group accountability meetings will take place (TBA)Course Objectives:
By the end of the semester, have R. project done and S. paper under review. Continue work on 2 – 3 other projects. Have projects in all stages of pipeline, from conceptualization to under-review. Keep track of all tasks completed for annual report and binder. Abide by timeline and complete tasks on schedule, or revise schedule.
We make so many lists. Crossing things off is motivating for both of us. We drink coffee.
We (Nicoleandmaggie) are allies for each other. We know each other from real life and have read each other's writing for years. We share our online to-do lists and question each other: "Have you started that report yet?" We report what we've done that day and what we're doing next. This is a regular part of our daily chats about everything under the sun that we IM each other every day, which is also how our blog began.
One of us installed leech block. Sadly our IT situation is such that some days it works and some days it doesn't. It's a bit like being a pigeon in a Skinner box being randomly given treats when I hit the button. (At home it always works.)
We strongly disagree that people who are productive and organized are unhappy. Nobody should have to apologize for being awesome, even awesome people. And I agree with Virginia Valian-- if the you that you want to be is more productive than the you that you currently are... then don't listen to people who tell you that productive people are all miserable. You know you.
We continue to work through these issues each semester. Do you have tips for us? Pretty please? What do you do to help yourself be productive?
Goodnight Seattle, I love you ... *
I made it!! I made it to the end! Even with a cold and a lot of work, I somehow managed to write something new almost every day of the week, answer comments, and even tweet.
This was an amazing ride. I'm very thankful to Genomic Repairman for suggesting my name for the Guest Blogge. I'm thankful for having two weeks to post my musings. I'm thankful for the tweets and RTs, and comments and emails. This was awesome (we should do it again, hehe).
Over the last two weeks I've met a lot of wonderful people, here and on Twitter. I wrote about my experiences in school, and as a postdoc, and about my journey on the academic fringe.
I hope y'all enjoyed my time around here. Feel free to drop by the blog anytime, or follow on Twitter. I tend to be fairly good about answering email, tweets and comments, so don't be shy.
Besides blogging, I got some good news this week. I got the results of my year end review ... turns out I got a modest raise! It won't be enough to get me to the Bahamas anytime soon ... but a bit of money in my pocket, while doing kick ass science and helping other structural biologists with their projects is beyond amazing.
All the best and thanks for joining in this 2-week adventure!
*Brownie points if you can tell me which show I modified that line from 
Welcome to Grumpy Rumblings of the Untenured
Welcome to Grumpy Rumblings of the Untenured. Someday (but not yet) to be Grumpy Rumblings of the Tenured or else Grumpy Rumblings of the non-academically employed living in paradise trying to make ends meet. (Did you know that rent for a tiny 3br in the SF bay area is around 3K/month? We're not currently living that dream.)
Who are we?
Well, according to our about statement:
Nicole and Maggie live in two different parts of the country. We are good friends. We are untenured, in two different fields. We are cranky, and we are anonymous. If you think you know who we are, you’re probably wrong. Don’t even try to tell us apart; we are of one mind (except when we’re not– only one of us likes mushrooms, and the other one of us likes eggnog).
We’ll be famous on the internet.
Another thing you may need to know is that #1 always starts the post. #2 is the other person. Sometimes #1 is #1 and sometimes #2 is #1. We thought it was less pretentious than saying "This one" and "That one" like unicorns and horses. Yes, we understand that is confusing and irritating for some of you. Please refer to our about statement on that front.
Our academic posts can be found under this tag.
On Mondays we talk about money. If you hop over today we're asking if you would marry for money. Would you?
Sometimes we are a mommy blog, even though only one of us is a mommy.
Twice a month we answer random questions from Google searches.
You can directly ask us questions too-- most Fridays we do an Ask the Grumpies feature. Ask away!
Once a month or so (depending on how much we want to play) we have deliberately controversial posts. More often we stick to merely debatable.
We're not always grumpy. For example, we love books. And acknowledge the joy in our lives, which is not always book-related.
Thinking about events during the last two weeks
Wow, the 2 weeks at the Guest Bloggue are almost up! Incredible how fast time flies. I'm still amazed that I was able to make it, and with new posts on most days! Indeed, it is possible for me to stick to a resolution and come through (if only I could apply this to work).
This entry will probably be all over the place, kinda like my brain most days, hehe.
I'm enjoying the long weekend. Yesterday I was able to sleep until almost 11am. I hadn't been able to enjoy that for the longest time. My apartment is quiet, but faces the street and it's a somewhat busy street. I get startled and awake pretty easily. I'm mostly recovered, and indeed, good rest does seem to shorten a cold (and its severity).
My boss did a bit of k3rning this week, not directed towards me (though I did give him the look of disapproval and called his name ... right after the comment in an annoyed voice). I won't go into the details, but I do have to say that I'm amazed (not in a good way) and shocked how some people get to find mates and have offspring even when their priorities are obviously to work, work, work and only have fun when things are work related. Sheesh.
Said situation and a conversation with a talented, yet overworked postdoc from another institution, has me thinking that I did the right thing by staying out of the TT. My postdoc friend has been in her new lab for less than 6 months. She works at least 10 hours every day of the week, doesn't take overly generous breaks, yet her PI (also a woman, and married) is making her life miserable by saying that she can't possibly survive and thrive in academia unless she works at least 12 hours every day. My friend recently got engaged, and she's barely done any planning (obviously not during lab time) because her boss says that she shouldn't be planning a wedding and having a life (her actual words) when there is science to be done and illnesses to cure (sounds familiar?? Maybe her PI was trained by K3rn). I sent along a copy of the K3rn piece to her and encouraged her to start looking into other options if she's really interested in staying in academia, because it would be a disservice to her to continue under her boss's thumb, unless she's willing to confront the boss and take on whatever comes her way.
I shared with her the story of how I became a staff scientist, and my reasons for it, related to how cut-throat I perceive the academic life to be. My friend wants to start a family in a couple of years, yet her PI doesn't seem to be very accepting or approving of this. She mentioned that people that work near her lab have seen how the PI treats postdocs and they don't approve ... yet no one has (and I'm sure no one will) report the PI, even when she's clearly violated a few of the bylaws that protect workers, especially about time off and/or family leave. That got me thinking that as far as I can tell, people know when a PI (or boss in any other discipline) is an ogre, yet no one says anything to prospective students, techs, postdocs or other lab personnel. Why is that? I remember that a couple of weeks after finishing my postdoc, a few of my former (female) labmates and I got together for drinks. Two of the most recent grads from postdoc lab gave me big hugs and congratulated me on getting out. They said that they thought the lab would break my spirit because I was so happy and outgoing, yet the boss was on the quiet side, and pretty much would stay put and let me fall flat on my face, only to say later that I never sought his insight. I was shocked at their admission ... and now that my friend says that she's having a hell of an experience, it got me thinking that there is something wrong with all of us when we keep quiet while witnessing how a potentially horrible PI continues to get (and fire) people in their lab, only to have the same complains about everyone. To me the the problem is certainly not the people, but the PI. What can we do to prevent talented people from getting into said labs and work under people that are above and beyond k3rn? Am I alone in thinking that this type of behaviour from a supposed mentor is plain and simple abuse/bullying? What can universities do to protect their students and postdocs? I'm guessing that the system might take care of said PIs when they fail to maintain people for extended periods of time, which in turn reflects bad on them, and limits the recommendations they may get from previous (and happy) trainees. But do students and postdoc have to suffer for years until the behaviour corrects itself (more or less) by the rules of the tenure system? I'm at a loss for words here.
All that brings me to answer a question someone posted on the my blog. A commenter asked why I'd started blogging. The 'about' section of my blog used to say that I wanted the blog to be a place where I could write down my thoughts on everything grad school related, but that I also wanted it to be a window into the life of a grad student (later postdoc) and that I'd share my struggles because as much as I thought they were unique, I was sure I wasn't alone (something I've come to see a lot in the comments, tweets and emails I get on my entry on failing the qualifying exam).
Then last week I was reading one of the my fave blogs, and Joanna's mom said this about her sharing some rather personal/painful stuff with her readers, even when she wasn't sure:
"It seems to me that being authentic is being brave enough or just candid enough to be honest about what you are experiencing or who you are, whether it is popular are not. A person gives a gift to other people when they say, 'This is what happened to me or this is how I truly feel, no matter what the popular belief is about what I should feel.' Whenever you are honest, you are speaking for a thousand silent people who don't have the voice to say what they really feel or are really experiencing. So, if you ever talk about [the thing you went through], you will touch a million hearts. Because you are speaking for more than just yourself. You are never alone in what you are feeling." (emphasis added).
That insight from Joanna's mom captures exactly why I started blogging. Because the journey in higher ed is beautiful, but also painful, and frustrating. Because there are people out there with horrible bosses, or painful projects, or family problems, or no money, or <insert your situation here> that feel all alone, and all it takes is one person, one experience, one share to help them a bit, to make them feel understood, and that someone out there 'gets' them. That's my reason to blog. I may be bitter, I may be sad, I may be happy .... but it is my experience, and hopefully seeing that someone out there has gone (and survived, or overcome) through something similar can give you a bit of hope in moving forward, or perhaps changing course.
A tiny little break
Wow, it's been a crazy week. I missed SONYC because I was sick (sorry guys, I reaaaaally missed you but I think it's better to keep my germs to myself). I did manage to post something new almost everyday, except during the weekend, mainly because I was resting (hey, depending on which flavour of Christianity you follow I'm doing the right thing by keeping the Sabbath (on Saturday or Sunday)).
Next week I'll be at a small (local, not national though) conference/meeting and the schedule at work is looking pretty hefty even though it will be a short week. My last day at Scientopia (oh no, so sad) is the 19th, but chances are I'll post my goodbye on Sunday. Plans for the weekend include: continuing my recovery, doing a bit of shopping (mainly groceries, though I do still need to pick up a pair of jeans for work) and cooking at home (something that had been going on for a few weeks and was postponed this week due to illness), a bit of cleaning and just resting and re-gaining my strength. I'm doing a lot better. It's funny (or not) how rhinovirus can knock you off for a couple of days after not being sick for 7-8 months (I may be a bit of wimp).
Stay tuned for my last post, and in the meantime, enjoy your weekend! Thanks for reading
Relocation decisions ...
After the entries on the job search and how hon and I met, I had a inquiry as to how our relationship factored in my decision of where to look for work.
The epic job search of 2011 was ... well, epic. It stemmed from feeling like I wasn't getting anything accomplished during my postdoc, that my talents and knowledge were being wasted by my project and mentor (and even myself) and how unhappy I was. I was pretty frustrated, which, sadly, seeped into all areas of my life, especially my relationship with honey.
I was very miserable most days. I'd be happy and excited on Friday afternoon and then by Sunday at noon I'd be pissed and frustrated. I wasn't aware of it, until one Sunday when hon pointed it out ... he said something along the lines of being tired of seeing me become miserable because Monday, and consequently, the work week, were approaching, and that it was beyond frustrating to have a partner in a sour mood come the weekend. The weekend was to relax, and enjoy. There was no reason to be sad! It dawned on me how my attitude was affecting him and how frustrating it was for him to try to keep a smile and feel happy, when he had this big blob of unhappiness around. Another time he said, with tears in his eyes, that it was incredibly frustrating for him to see me depressed and pissed about my postdoc, because he thought having him there, and close to me, even under the worst of circumstances, would be enough to keep me happy. Later, I realized that while I was happy to be with him, if my work/lab life were frustrating, it would invariably invade every aspect of my life.
So, one day, once I'd made the decision to talk to my postdoc mentor and alert him of my impending job search, hon and I were talking about the future, and future plans, work, outlook, etc. He looked at me with his usual, loving eyes and said that it didn't matter what corner of the world I ended up in moving to, as long as I was feeling happy and fulfilled, he'd be happy for me ... even if it had us be apart again. That was beyond generous and wonderful on his part, because it lifted some of the weight off my shoulders and helped me brave it out and try places I wouldn't have considered otherwise. I also knew that whatever position I'd end up in would be somewhat short-lived, as I wanted to a) test the waters and see if I could start loving (and enjoying) research again, and b) use said opportunity as a jump start to eventually go back to my family and my known surroundings and either teach, or teach and do a bit of research (as a SLAC or something whatever similar situation) or work as staff.
With that in mind my obvious choices were to look for work in Canada or in the East Coast of the US. It didn't matter what part of Canada it was (well, except the Yukon, Nunavut and the Northern Territories ... brrr, too much snow!) as long as we could stay in Canada. And it really didn't matter which part of the Eastern US, as long as it was a blue state. I wanted to be close enough to visit hon and my family whenever I could (hasn't materialized yet), be close enough to big cities and have a somewhat decent climate.
Hon's openness and encouragement served as a much needed force to keep me going, and his willingness to visit/temporarily relocate wherever I moved to were crucial. Some of his most moving words "find a job, any job, as long as it keeps you excited and smiling, even if it's miles away ... because if you're happy, I'm happy" were uttered many times. Having his support was important during the search.
Making the final decision wasn't easy. While my current position was at the top of my choices, ideally I would have had a combination of the location of possible position #2 with the benefits and freedom of my current one. I'm by no means pissed at my current position ... but there will always be room for improvement. Since our relationship has lasted this long, and survived several moves (and states, and countries!) I was confident that the skills we'd acquired would come in handy and keep us going.
It hasn't been easy having half of my heart away while adapting to a new city, and new ... everything. Thankfully Skype, IM, texting and his visits, have kept us alive. Hon has come a few times and stayed for a bit, one time almost 3 weeks! I know the job market in our neck of the woods is tough, but I'm scouting it out and hopefully in the next year or so I can start the relocation (once again ... I hope for good!).
An understanding partner, experience in long-distance relationships, trust, humour, taking chances and faith in us allowed me (and allowed hon a few years ago) to move to across countries to pursue opportunities that have helped our careers. It hasn't been easy, but we also haven't shied away from taking chances and moving away (temporarily) to pursue dreams and training.
Autok3rn3d
Or could it selfk3rned? I don't know. I'm tired, I'm sick (I've said that before).
Over the weekend I started feeling tired (even though I had two wonderful nights of sleep). When I woke up on Monday I had a sore throat and body aches, and my head felt twice its normal size (and people, I have a big head, ok?). I had a lot of things to do in the lab as we readied for even more changes. Since it's only a few of us in my "division" I knew they'd be counting on me doing my part. The adrenaline kept me running. Same yesterday. Same today. But boy am I tired. I had a horrible night of sleep yesterday and today I'm paying the price.
So, why am I doing this to myself? Well, for starters, there aren't that many of us, like I said before, and people are counting and depending on me. I had a couple of people show up this week to do set up equipment I exclusively know how to operate. I could have canceled, but their experiments of a whole month would have gone down the drain. Then we had some major changes and had to change a few things in the lab to accommodate those changes. Lastly ... because I don't have much sick time, and I can't afford much sick time anyways. If I don't work, my bills don't get paid. No bills paid, even more blemishes on my credit score.
Above it all, there's this sense of responsibility. Growing up my mom bundled my sister and I up when we were sick (with colds or ear infections) and sent off to school. To my mom it was very important to have us take our own notes, be responsible, and attend classes ... every single day. When I graduated elementary school, I even got a prize for having perfect attendance. But at what price? Overall I was a healthy child. I had my bouts of colds, ear infections and the like, but thankfully it never went past that. I never broke an arm or a leg. I never fell in the backyard (because I had to play, but always watching out and being careful!!!). And I was scared that my dad would seal the deal (if I ever got in a fight) by hitting me (that was his way of keeping me in line; I have to say, I've never been arrested ... but I did get myself into my share of dysfunctional relationships with guys throughout the years).
Long story short, I never missed class in elementary or middle school. But, I probably did my share of sending my friends to their doctors by passing on colds, etc. When I was in grad school I sat down my mom and explained that sharing germs, by sending a kid to school, rain or shine, in sickness or in health was a disfavor to society, at least in my book. In grad school I finally made peace (somewhat) with not showing up to the lab when I was sick, with fever, aches and sneezing, or worse (one time someone did that in our department and it sent me to the hospital ... I think that's what finally triggered the reasoning in not being at school when you're sick).
I call that autok3rning ... the "ability" or impulse to work, rain or shine, in sickness or in health, because science and work have to keep on going. It hit me today that I should stay home and rest, because missing a day or two (even if I can't afford it), helps me stay productive in the long term, by not lengthening my illness, my symptoms and discomfort. By keeping me behind close doors when I'm shedding whatever microbe it is that's making me sick. By protecting those around me and their samples. Sure, canceling people is a PITA ... but truly, when I'm feeling this bad (even though I don't have a fever or any major aches, or the runnies), the best I can do for myself and my lab is to stay home.
Let's see how I feel tomorrow. For now, I'm off to the pharmacy to get some honey and some OTC stuff and back under my covers it is.
Do you have any other instances where you've autok3rned? How did you cope with it? How has your understanding of the situation changed? Do you stay home? Do you brave it out?
A story of love
As promised, here's the story of how my (awesome) boyfriend/cheerleader/inspiration of 6 years (and counting!) and I met.
Mr. 30-and-almost-a-PhD and I met in high school. We were in different schools, and met at a national honor society meeting/competition in the spring of 1999. We were both seniors and had been accepted to the same college. Different faculties, same school. I'd become a biology major and he'd be a poli sci one. We were both passionate about our respective disciplines and (as far as I can tell) college was an awesome time for both.
I was a huge nerd ... have always been. He's always been a bit of a nerd, scoring 4.0 all through college, his master's and some of his semesters in the PhD. We met and thought that each other was nice (and cute, OMG he's the cutest thing ever). We also had a bunch of friends in common, so it wasn't uncommon to coincide at student centre or in between classes. During the high school competition, my friends and I did somewhat poorly, but he did great and even got a prize. My friends and I went over to congratulate him and hug him and it was a wonderfully funny memory which we both treasure.
Since I was a huge nerd, I didn't want to be distracted by love and stuff, so during the first two years of college I only dated casually and never went all serious with anyone. Honey did have a girlfriend (or two, or possibly three, I can't remember) and I remember that I'd look at him (and check him out, oh yes I did) and say hi, but nothing more. I was a "good conservative girl" that would never, ever ask a guy out, let alone cross the line with a guy that was going steady with someone else.
Eventually I started dating a former biology classmate and by the time hon and I graduated we were both in steady relationships. On graduation day honey got an important award at school. Somehow, even though I was dating someone else at the time, him having the award made me feel close, familiar, like it also belonged to me. I remember looking over where he was sitting when our names were called on stage and trying to say hi (I'm not sure he noticed me ... turns out he was really sick, and was tired and recovering ... poor thing). A few weeks before graduation we'd crossed paths in one of the halls at school and exchanged phone numbers. We were both going to grad school in neighbouring states. We though it'd be cool to keep in touch.
I failed to mention earlier that we used to be ICQ buddies, and joked that when we turned 30, if we were alone, we'd get married.
Back to the story. So, we both moved to our respective grad programs and occasionally he'd call to say hi and see how things were going. I kinda looked forward to his calls and was always upbeat when we finished talking. We were still dating our college partners. Eventually we both broke up with them. A few months after our respective breakups I was on the phone with one of my college BFFs and she was sitting in a big group of people at school. She passed around the phone for our mutual friends to say hi and one of the was hon! He'd left grad school, gone back home and was on campus that day. We talked briefly, mentioning that we were single, nothing more, nothing less.
About a year after that I was feeling lonely, sad and pathetic. I'd been single for a bit over a year. I was near my quarter life crisis and though grad school was going OK I missed having a boyfriend. I picked the my phone and decided to call a guy, any guy I could get a hold of, just so I could hear a male voice on the line. As I was looking around I stumbled on honey's number ... then thought, "hmmm, we haven't spoken in a while, I wonder how he's doing?" For all I knew he could have changed his number. I certainly had changed mine and he could be with a new girlfriend.
I made the call and he picked up! Later on I found that honey doesn't pick up calls from strange numbers. Mine had changed, but his cell used to show the area the call was coming from, and when he saw the state, he faintly remembered knowing someone there. Maktub.
We had a nice conversation. Hon was friendly, and his voice was as warm as I remembered. We talked and talked, probably for about 3 hours that night. We talked about our respective break ups, updated each other on what had been going on since the previous year and had a nice conversation. Hon told me he'd started a master's program he was excited about (the program he'd chosen for his PhD was not what he was expecting, so he did the sensible thing and withdrew before going any further ... I was shocked by this because to me he'd never been a quitter, and here was my nerdy superstar, my academic idol falling from grace ... he quickly regained that status after we started dating and he shared his journey of discovery, something that still amazes me) and mentioned he was "shopping" for another school to start his PhD in (originally he wanted to do film, then switched programs in his master's and re-discovered his passion for his current field). That night, right then and there he mentioned that a) he was single (yay!!! but no, originally there weren't any romantic expectations, as far as I can remember; hon, correct me if I'm wrong), b) was going to the northeast to check out a couple of schools, and c) didn't want to go alone, but his best friend was busy or something, and he wondered out loud if I wanted to take a few days off from school and be his traveling partner. I told him I'd ask my boss if it was OK, and would let him know, but it was quite possible I'd be able to travel with him.
Now, I wasn't the kind of person who'd just go with a guy on a multi-state trip (possibly date?) on a whim... miraculously I took the chance! After talking to the boss it was done, August of 2005, our multi-city tour of the North East was happening.
Hon and I talked on the phone (or Messenger) every night from then on. We'd flirt and make plans on where to go, which places to check out etc. But as the trip approached I became apprehensive. I wasn't sure what to think, I mean, we liked each other. But a year earlier my heart had been crushed by my college boyfriend, and I wanted to keep my expectations low, in case things fizzled when we came face to face.
Off we went in August to see schools and see how we got along. Honey had (and still does) the most loving eyes I've ever seen. We hugged and talked and on our way we went. But, I became a total bitch within minutes. For reasons I still don't understand, I put this wall between us, and no matter how loving and kind honey was to me, I was a total bitch. Our visit to a school in the first city was good, he got to meet people in the program and got the info he was looking for. We had time to go sightseeing, so we went to a couple of museums, had dinner, and took photos. At some point I remember honey asking about my wall, and my attitude ... and I didn't know what to tell him.
Eventually we headed out to the second city in our trip. We took the train and in it I started thinking about the stupid wall I was putting between us. Here was this genuinely loving person, treating me like a queen, while I was being totally insane about it and barely even talking to him! Why was I so afraid of him? Was it fear of being hurt? He hadn't even made a move! WTF was wrong with me?
In that train ride I started thinking about those times in the past where good guys had approached me and treated me with warmth, care and patience. And I always went with the asshole that appeared to be more "interesting" ... only to have my heart broken (and seeing them marry one of my college best friends ... classy). I think honey fell asleep at some point and that's when it hit me, I didn't want to be hurt anymore, I was avoiding him because I wanted to avoid the possibility of being hurt. I was dreading the pang in my stomach, the pain in my heart and the racing thoughts that come with a broken heart. But we weren't even dating! And here I was getting all worked up about something that hadn't even happened (hon can attest to this, I do with everything, you should have seen me when I got the job offer last week, I didn't sleep for days).
As we got to the new city I started tearing down the wall and becoming my usual crazy, nerdy self. We walked around the city, drove to a nearby port town and had a wonderful time. And little by little I let him in. I shared with him stories about my life and dreams, and he paid attention to it all. He was not only loving, but hanging from every word I was saying, and wanting more.
When we made it back to the first city on our trip we were inseparable and it broke our hearts when we had to say goodbye. We'd found a companion, a best friend, a travel partner in the other, and we now had to let go to back to our regular lives. I had to go back to my lab, he had to go back to his MA classes. We swore to never lose contact, and to see each other again.
He kept his word, he came to see me two months after. A month before that he'd asked me to be his girlfriend. And I said yes.
Since then, we've moved many times, within my grad school city, his grad school city, and of course, to the Great White North. We've traveled, lived together, lived apart, been sick, healthy, crazy, mad, happy and pissed. We can count with one hand how many times we haven't spoken on the phone (or in person) in these 6 years .... there would be a few fingers left. We've fought hard, and loved harder. And we've been through a lot of stress and wonderful, relaxing times.
I don't know what awaits us, but I'm excited, as long as it is with him. I hope to go back home soon, so we can be together once again, and never, ever be apart. This year is his defense, finally ... and I can't wait for it!
So, I ask you, how did you meet your significant other?
