I will generally keep this blog to all things light and fluffy, but today I digress.

For the past couple of weeks I've felt like I have been hitting a wall - handling my family, my sick grandpa, being a freaking PhD student, and getting sick. Quite possibly, my biggest pet peeve of recent months is when you try to find an open ear, someone to vent about your mice not having arrived or being turned down for a fellowship, or having to be on your feet all day running wet lab and still do grading, is when that supposed ear begins to complain. I do my best to smash down that self-centered side of me that we all know we have, but when I smell like mouse after doing harvesting for ten hours, am afraid I am being scooped* and have to schedule a haircut two months out, I very well may snap when someone returns with, "yeah, I know, life is so hectic. I got stuck in traffic today on the way to Trader Joe's," "seriously, I have to respond to three emails," or whathaveyou.

I hate complaining, because I love what I do, and I do it because I want to do what I love when I finish, and the pharmacology boy and the little gray cat buy a house in San Diego (or San Francisco) and can be not-Ramen-eating preppy science family with lots of Le Creuset cookware (thanks, Mom). And sometimes I need to vent about what it is that I do, and when people retort that their problem is that their boss brought in blueberry bagels instead of sesame, it makes me rather stabby.

That is all.

* For those who are not scientists: being scooped is commonly known as the the moment you read a paper, or hear a talk, and realize that someone (from another university, usually) has found the answer to your research before you. It can take many forms, from them just finishing first, to plain, straight-out data stealing. And I am beginning to feel it creeping up on me, and pushing its evil hands around neck.