Here are the shoes...

I feel guilty. Slightly regretful. But its a good kind of regret. (Deos such a thing even exist?) I'm glad I did it, and it was most definitely fun, but my god (your god, everyone's god) did I have to buy so many! I bought five pairs of Charles David shoes!! FIVE! They are all stacked up in my closet and I'm still thinking that I should have bought that other pair I liked. Its just that they were soooooooo cheap. Charles David cheap. And now I'm in denial. If my statement doesn't come then I don't owe anything. Yes, my name is Shayda and I am a Charles David-holic (at least when they have a 70% off sale). I'm afraid of checking my credit card bill for September. That and all the other stuff I bought this month. A digital camera, REI, j.crew, amazon... Yes, I've stuck my hand in the cookie jar one to many times this month, and then force fed them to poor defenseless practicality before beating him into a bloody unconscious pulp. But I'm not worried, I have a brilliant plan to balance everything out. I'm not buying food* for the next three months. Its genius. I spend more on food* than on shopping, and if I cut one out, then VISA and Discover will reach a nice equilibrium. I feel like the flying Dutchman, except I rape and pillage Westfield malls** Or maybe its the other way around.... (Thank god I already bought chocolate since I'm not buying anymore food* starting today.)

NOTE: To anyone who has not tried the Harry & David Moose Crunch. It. Is. To die for. So GOOD. My favorite. And also chocolate bing cherries. And the truffles.

*Excludes fruits, that i give myself permission to buy.
**People not included.

I just watched y tu mama tambien. Life is so short. You only live for a hundred years, if you're lucky, and then you go back to whatever oblivion you came from, and stay there for the rest of eternity. Shouldn't we enjoy life now. Everyday we make decisions based on the idea that there will be a tomorrow. What if there wasn't. What if we knew there were X amount of years, days, left and then the end. So many things that we torture ourselves with and worry about today would blur out of focus. We should do all the things we always wanted to do before we die, now. Not wait. Not play games. Just take it all off and do it.

And then i think, but what if you do something stupid, disastrous, something with serious repercussions, and here comes the tomorrow when you have to deal with it. The world hasn't come to an end yet...

I am totally rambling. I'm thinking of all those people who travel and do crazy dangerous things, and how they are considered to have lived their lives fuller than the person who's lived in the same town for their entire life. Do you think that's true? Or is all about how much you challenge yourself with respect to yourself.

I realize that this blog is totally random, but i can't be the only one who's ever thought about this...

I wish people would be more straight forward. Not rude. Not blunt and untactful (Saba) but honest. Life would be much simpler. Easier. But then again, maybe you don't want to always tell the truth. In that case you would be consciously deceiving someone, be it for their or your own good. Net wise, it all sums and averages out to be not good for anyone. I believe that the truth is like a vaccine. The first time you hear it, you might see red or blue, get a little sick and down, but then you're safe for the home stretch. And that is well worth a little pain.

Very good music you should all download:

Katie Melua (bluesy jazz)
Neverending White Light (ethereal but in a alternative rock way)
Panic! At the Disco (Just plain entertaining, sort like the killers but with more bounce and fun lyrics.)
Goldfrapp (electronic soulful beats)

What I've been listening to non-stop for the past week...
Just thought I'd share...

What I really want to get a hold of is the Supreme Beings of Leisure, remember the one Janet bought? Come to think it she bought a lot of interesting stuff... Avalanches, Sigor Ros, Ours, and that weird music that's in style now... She was way waaaay ahead of her time... very Janet... I should e-mail her...

I'm in lab right now, working, sitting in an extremely quiet, deserted room listening to the curious george soundtrack on head phones.... I should have brought some speakers....

What the hell is wrong with certain people. I don't get it. why are some people so annoyingly frustrating that I just want to pull All their hair out.
my god! you would not believe the shit people will pull. further details are pending...

I had my HHMI interview today and I showed up 5 minutes late. I was really late, like I should be leaving the house 10 minutes ago late. I park in patient parking and speed walk/run into he VA hospital. I'm maneuvering past all these old old men like a pro. I run past the visitor desk, and thankfully none of the police officers decides I'm dangerous, so no chase and tackle (that would have been a perfect excuse for why I was late). I make my way up to the 3rd floor of the Dr's office, and after 1 lap, I finally find it. By stroke of unbelievable luck, my watch is 5 minutes fast compared to the VA clock inside the Dr's office, and I turn out to be only 5 minutes late instead of 10. I know that's its my own fault. But its just one of those things when I'm watching time clicking by and I just can't make myself hurry. At the Dr's office, he has thee biggest door I have ever see. Its Hagrith sized. Ginormous. Inside is this indian doctor, the other student who got into the program and the german director of endocrinilogy. The only thing I can think is fuck fuck fuck. I am so fucking late. The Dr looks at me, and he's got one of those looks, like I'm an insignificant squashable ant. Student ant. look. He can squish me right before his lunchtime curry. I apologize, profusely. I know I can charm him into liking me if I can get him to take off his, your a replaceable student pawn. So I give him my best smile and shake his hand. The german guy's hand. And them I'm backhanded. OMG. The other student has the biggest oafiest happy smile on his face. He's like an asian buzz lightyear. He totally has me beat. No contest. I can not compete with his plastic grin glutaraldehyde-fixed on his face. And its not a condencending grin. Its a I'm so glad to be here teach me, feed me grin. What I really want to do is kick him right where his knee bends so he falls over. Let's see that grin then. This guy is so cheerful, and the sad thing is, as much as I want it to be artificial bs, it wasn't. It was fresh eager naive youthful enthusiasim. I think I need an anti-anti-depressive pill. It was actually impressive. So the Dr shows us around, asks us what we want to get out of the program... and some more q&a in 500 words or less verbal essays. I'm pulling answers out of ass, but their not half bad. The other guy answers were okay, but god know what the hell he was talking about with his class b finky dinky, glycogen storage, priority receptor crap talk.
Me no understand. or give a shit. So that was that. I hope that was interesting enough for all my tough critics out there. And by the way, the other students name was ohn. like ohm. like V = IR. like someone PLEASE give him some current so he can get that booby smile shocked off his face.

I'm confused. Its just one of those days where your tired but your brain won't stop whirring. Its like tyring to turn off your computer, but you can only turn off the monitor. I don't know what to think. Trying to type this out just makes me feel like an exhibitionist. What's a self-proclaimed blogger to do? And i can't believe this is such a big deal. Its so not. Like muddy waters... or stepping lightly into a clear sandy pond. And as you pull your foot out, the sand storms up and clouds the clear water. That pristine perfect sand is now stirred up into a frothy demented useless expenditure of energy. And it will take its sweet fcuking time to settle. Eventually, you'll once again have a clear, pretty, sandy, foolish pond.

Update on my voice: It is still scratchy and hoarse.
Why won't it would go away? Maybe its permanent. On the other hand Sujata says that my voice sounds good like this... I'm not sure how to take that... Is my normal voice so bad that a sick, cough-drop begging, nyQuil marinated voice is better???
I am going to go ice skating today which I hope will be fun, or at least not boring. How many times can one skate around a rink. As a result, I am devising a list of things to do at the ice skating rink. So far I have 1 task: Learn how to skate backwards. I figure since I know how to snowboard backwards, skating backwards shouldn't be too hard to iron out. Being so edge savy and all... You know what I'm sayin? For all you snowboarders out there, Whazzzzup.
And to make all of you happy, here's a big boobla from san diego to Cammy, Grace, Saba, and dum dum dummmm, Pareesa. By the way, my birthday is coming up. I'm telling you ahead of time so you can plan a free day. 3 months should be enough time, right? See how considerate I'm being for all you med school, ucla, paper writing, midterm, finals, cutting people's breasts open people.
As for research, I will briefly mention... I now have to do everything I did on Matlab over again!!! Apparently the people at matlab only know how to write code that has down syndrome or maybe for people who have down syndrome. Since I am down syndrome-free, I have taken on the epic mental task of trudging through middle earth and mordor to rewrite their pdetool box code. I've talked to the matlab programmers so many times, that I have their direct line. The beauty of cell phones storing all incoming call numbers. Mwah! Thank you Samsung. They know me by name, or at least Mark the PDEtoolbox programmer does. He says, "Heeeey..." And I'm like, "Did you program the toolbox for people who have an extra 21'st chromosome? How is anyone supposed to work with such a "gifted" piece of code? How is an intelligent, creative, funny, cool, smart, witty, not to mention pretty person who wants to do something called R-E-S-E-A-R-C-H use your "special" code?" So I'm switching over to from matlab to femlab (also known as comsol) and for all you non-engineering people, is a Finite Elements Methods software, hence the FEM. Wallah.

I was sick, got better for one day, and have now slowly began losing my voice. Yesterday, I could do high pitched sounds, but they all came out sounding like velociraptors from Jurassic Park, if they tried to speak English. This morning, I have lost even that charming ability. My high pitched sounds sound like a forced rush of air like when two cars crash together. Or like when you do yoga and you have to inhale and exhale on cue. My throat makes windy, breathy, wind tunnel noises. Its especially noticable for certain words, like Hi, Sigh, Fie, disappear for the eer part. The list goes on and on. I just realized it also happens for when I raise the tone of my voice at the end of a question! How exciting for me! My sister thinks I'm obsessed, mainly because for the past 5 minutes I've trying out different words to see how they sound in my new and not-so-improved voice. Would it not be cool if some company came out with a pill or chip (its always either one or the other) that you can take or implant, or patch over your throat, that lets you talk in different people's voices and accents? For example, if you have a hot date, you stick on the Marilyn Monroe patch or the Fiona Apple patch, or for guys, the Sean Connery James Bond patch. If you have a meeting with someone who has not been performing their job, ie roommate or employee, you can put on the Marlon Brando Godfather patch. Or the Al Pacino Scarface patch. There are just so many possibilities. If you have to incite someone about something, you can do the Tom Cruise, You can't handle the truth patch. The list goes on and on. I wouldn't mind trying a southern Kyra Sedwik Closer accent. Or the Fargo, Dontchya know, accent. It would be awesome. Not to mention vera entertaining. At least for me. In this day and age, people have artifical hair, boob(s), eye color, heart valves. There's botox, face lifts, lipsuction, noise jobs, veneers. So why not voices? You have to admit that this is a novel idea. But god knows what your baby will look like if you accidentally reproduced with one of these people. You would have a circus freak. You would have to sell the child. Or sue! Or if you can handle the looks of the little monkey, just start saving up for a cosmetic surgery fund along with a college fund.