MonochroMe

Welcome to my first (and quite possibly last) self-portrait. I realized today that I had managed to completely dress myself in shades of black and grey, from head to toe. It wasn't intentional, and may have only stemmed from a desire to wear my new black snow boots to work today, but it wound up fitting my mood. I've been feeling very...blah today. Still a little sick, unmotivated, tired. But as I walked home from the bus stop and watched my little black feet against the fresh white snow that was falling around me, I was reminded that while I am a colorful person, sometimes there's nothing more beautiful than the simplicity of black and white. So I'm ending my blah day just a little bit tongue-in-cheek. ;)

The G-Bomb

Men of the world, I have a bone to pick with you. If you meet a woman, and you're chatting with her, enjoying her company, enjoying a little mild, harmless flirtation...just how long do you wait before you drop the G-bomb? It's easy to do...you're talking about your daily life, a movie you've seen, a tv show you like to watch...there are plenty of natural opportunities to drop an offhand mention of "my girlfriend..." Yet for some reason, you avoid it at all costs. Now, I get that it's fun to talk to someone, flirt with them, and it's more fun if the person whose conversation you're enjoying thinks you're single. Or maybe you feel it's not this new person's business what your relationship status is. Now, I'm not saying that every conversation should begin with "I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!!!!" Easy dude...I just offered to push an elevator button for you. But on behalf of the single girls in the world, I think it's safe to say that we appreciate the subtle drop. We won't stop talking to you, or flirting with you (within reasonable limits), but while it sucks finding out this guy you're vibing with is already taken, it sucks more wondering why the guy you were vibing with all night has no interest in getting your number. Dating at a certain age is exhausting and frustrating enough already, without having to waste your energy feeling out someone who is already spoken for. If the best I can hope for out of you is a new friendship, I'd like to know that up front. I'm always glad to make a new friend, but when you're meeting someone new and trying to figure out how to connect with them, there's no point in keeping your options open if you don't actually have any. Women are constantly accused of playing games, but you guys play them too. I just want to know what I'm up against - I don't want to mess with your head, and I don't appreciate you messing with mine.

So you had a good day...

Daniel Powter can kiss my ass, because I've had a good day. No, a GREAT day. It started off slow - the alarm goes off after a too-short period of unconsciousness, as has become my modus operandi these days. But hey, it's worth it if the reason you were up so late was a good conversation with a relatively new but good friend, right? So I take my time getting ready, because today is sort of a significant one - I'm finishing up my first of two units I'm teaching, which means I'm going to have a couple of weeks off to do research work...I'm getting paid for the first time since my teaching salary kicked in...I have plans to go out for a drink after work...all in all, it's a good day to look cute. So I eventually get to work...get ready for class...visit the friend who not only kept me up late last night but is going out with me after work because he's just that cool. I give my lecture, and this is where it gets good: as I'm wrapping things up for the day, I say, "Well, that's all I have for today. Enjoy kinetics, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks." That's when it happens. A round of applause. Now, I feel the need to stop and take a moment here to convey just what that means to me. The U of T reminds me a great deal of UVa, where I did my undergrad. They both seem to have similar reputations, and take themselves quite seriously in terms of the quality of education they provide (some would say TOO seriously, but that's an entry for another day). Now, when I was in undergrad, there would always be discussion during the last week of class about which professors you thought would get applause on the last day. It certainly wasn't a given - it was reserved for those professors you really appreciated, the ones whose lectures you didn't want to skip. The legendary ones, or the less celebrated but no less enjoyable lecturers...those were the ones you applauded for. I mean, you fill out evaluations of your professors, you let them know you like them, but it takes a special extra effort to show your appreciation to their face (and, I feel the need to add, that face is, in my memory, ALWAYS that of a man - chew on that for a bit). This is the first big lecture class I've ever taught - to be honest, the prospect scared me shitless just 3 weeks ago. So I've considered it a victory every time I teach a class where I feel like the students are engaged, and listening to me not because they have nowhere else to be but because they WANT to. I'm thrilled when they actually laugh at my stupid chemistry jokes - I never in a million years thought I would be able to win them over enough to actually applaud me. And when it comes down to it, I may have a very long and brilliant career as a professor ahead of me, and I may be applauded many times, but this will always be the first one. And I can't imagine it will get better.

So at this point, I'm on a full-on teaching high. It's like I'm freebasing education, baby - it's a good feeling. So what do I do? I go back to my office and gloat to anyone that will listen. Luckily, my friends are very understanding and quite happy for me - they get that this is a big deal, or at the very least are quite experienced at humoring me at this point. So I manage to get very little done for the rest of the day, because I'm flitting around patting myself on the back and having self-satisfied nerdgasms all over the place, until the end of the day when the aforementioned after-work drink plans kick in. Just having plans after work on a Friday is a happy thing - especially when you're in the mood to celebrate and you've got good company lined up. I meet up with a friend/coworker that I've been talking to a lot lately and figuring out is a pretty freaking cool (read: very similar to me in many ways) person. We go out for a couple of beers and some spicy appetizers, and lots of good conversation. People I've met here seem to be under the impression that I am this outgoing person who can carry on a conversation with anyone about anything...the sort of person that somehow draws attention in a group. That's really not me at all when it comes down to it - I mean, I am that person around my research group, but that's because they're all too quiet and nice for their own damned good - SOMEONE has to shake things up a bit. Beneath the surface, I'm really a one-on-one person. I cherish the time I get to spend alone with a good friend, and always prefer hanging out with one or two other people to an entire roomful. And I haven't really gotten close enough to many people here yet to warrant that sort of intimate interaction. So getting to go out and sit across a table from someone you enjoy talking to is a rare treat for me, especially when you're still in that stage of friendship where every question leads to a new revelation about that person. And it doesn't hurt matters that he's a cute guy, and incredibly sweet, and already a dear friend. There are worse things you could be batting your eyes at across a plate of hot wings, my friend. During the entire time we were hanging out, a lovely light blanket of snow was falling - my first Toronto snow that wasn't an icy, slushy mess. And as I walked home through the freshly fallen, sparkling snow, all I could think was what a lovely package it all made, and what a thoroughly nice day it had been - I really couldn't ask for much more.

I am disappointed in myself.

Having just scrolled through some of my previous posts, I come to the realization that as a general rule, this blog has been far more earnest and far less sarcastic and bitter than I promised to be when I began writing it. I promise to do what I can to correct this egregious error in the future, although I will not be held responsible for the fact that frankly, I'm pretty satisfied with my lot in life at the moment, which really does take the piss 'n vinegar quotient down a notch. But I'll see what I can do.

My World Tour

So I haven't really blogged about this yet, because there's so much to say and my time is in high demand these days, but for the last 2 1/2 weeks or so I've been teaching for the first time as a lecturer in a Big Time University (TM). In this case, the BTU (TM) in question is the University of Toronto, and the course I'm teaching is CHM 139 - good ol' general chemistry, physical principles. Now, for some background, my previous teaching experience consists of a wide variety of TA gigs while I was in grad school (everything from 1st-year gen chem to 4th-year analytical chem to grad-level classes) and one summer teaching a class of 10 students at a community college back home in Virginia. So I'm a little green, but the guy who hires the sessional lecturers at the U of T actually decided in a moment of questionable judgement to entrust the minds of 900 first-years to yours truly. Now, let's be honest - those who want to learn the material will do so, regardless of who stands in front of them for 3 hours a week. And those who don't want to be there or aren't capable of grasping the material never will, regardless of who stands in front of them for 3 hours a week. But there are a number of precious souls in the middle - those who have to take the class for some reason or another...for whom the material doesn't come naturally but who need to learn it or are forced to try...these are the people that those of us who are passionate about teaching try to reach. We don't have delusions about making them fall in love with our discipline - we merely aim to make the process as entertaining as possible. If you make the class fun, maybe they'll remember it fondly instead of as "that awful class in which I almost died of confusion and/or boredom." It is because of these people that it is advantageous and/or dangerous to hire people like me. I am, when it comes down to it, an entertainer. Or at least I try to be. And I have to say, a great deal of my passion for teaching comes from a truly selfish place. The idea of a few hundred students, crammed into an auditorium, with nothing to do but LISTEN TO ME TALK is like peanut butter in a mousetrap - a tidbit I cannot resist. I can now officially say that there is no better feeling for me than when a class of 250+ students falls silent to listen to what I have to say. Wait...scratch that...it's even better when they laugh at my jokes and lame analogies...THEN fall silent to hear the explanation of the principle that I'm joking about. I know I'm having a good day when they don't just politely titter at some lame attempt at humor - they LAUGH at me. And students don't think we know this, but we can tell the difference between when they are laughing at your joke and when they are laughing because they know you think you're being cute and they're doing it to suck up. I always know that I am comfortable and in my element when I can make off-the-cuff jokes that are actually funny - most people only THINK they are more clever and witty when they drink, but for me it's actually true because I am a very clever and witty person, but only when I let my guard down. And that HAPPENS in my class...no alcoholic beverages necessary. Screw Disney - as far as I'm concerned, being in the middle of a good lecture is the happiest place on earth.

One

I'm not the kind of girl who goes around bemoaning my singlehood, claiming that my life would be perfect if only I had a guy to share it with. I don't need a man to validate me, and I enjoy my solitude and my independence. But I also couldn't be farther from the man-hating feminist type. I don't NEED a guy to share in my good fortune, but I've never found a good thing that wasn't better when shared with someone. Experiences, hobbies... food, drink...successes and failures... kit kat bars... these are all things that are more significant when you share them with someone special. And to be perfectly honest, over the last few weeks, I've been feeling that void. I'm happy with my life, my job, my family and friends - I couldn't ask for anything better in any of those areas right now. But the fact of the matter is, they'd all be enriched if I had someone to share them with.

Oh, let's just go ahead and say it... I'm lonely. This has become more and more evident over the last few weeks, and that feeling was compounded sometime this week when I realized it's been nearly a year since my last relationship ended. Now, I've been single for good reason since then - finishing a Ph.D., moving back home with your parents, and moving (to not just a different town, but a different COUNTRY) are not terribly conducive to a hot romantic life. But that doesn't change the fact that some days, you just want to come home to a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead. And they say the first step to finding someone is figuring out what you want. So without further ado, I present What I Want:

1) I want to meet a guy, feel an attraction, and be asked out... to be pursued. I don't want to have to do all the work. I am tired of always being the one with the balls to turn a good friendship into something better. Feeling like you're bullying a guy into dating you is hard on the ego.

2) I want to be taken out on a real date, where he tries his best to come up with somewhere to take me that I will like to go. He doesn't have to actually be right, just make the effort. And it's certainly not about money - I have more appreciation for a guy who can take me out for a really good cheap date than for one who can spend a lot of money for an evening that is just fine.

3) I want to be kissed. I want a guy to slide his arm around my waist, pull me close, and kiss me because he can't stand to look at me and not kiss me anymore. I don't want to be asked if he can kiss me. I don't want an awkward, timid kiss. I want to be kissed by someone who knows what they're doing.

4) I want him to look into my eyes, and make me never want to look away.

5) I want to be with someone who is available - to know that the future is available to me. I am tired of telling people about my new relationship, "It's not going to go anywhere, but at least it makes for good companionship." Companionship is nice, but it's not enough. I don't want to spend any more time curled up in blind alleys - I someone to help me out of the maze.

6) I want to share my passions and my priorities. I want to be with someone who wants the same things out of life that I do - who is passionate and willing to learn... who is open to my interests and desires, and who will challenge me to appreciate the loves of their life.

7) I want to say, "I love you." And I want to hear it back. Without reservation or qualification.

So yeah, that's what I want. No wonder I'm still single. And lonely.

The apocalypse most certainly is nigh.

First Lionel Richie sings Brick House on the Today show (seriously, Lionel...are you trying to kill me???), then my coffee pot explodes. Seriously - tiny shards of silvered glass ALL OVER my kitchen. 2007 is seriously fucked up thus far.

Why is Lionel Richie singing Brick House????

I mean...SERIOUSLY.

Yeah...2006 is SO last year...

Recently, my dad posed the question, "Why is New Year's such a big deal?" He wasn't referring to the parties, or the frantic need to find someone to kiss at midnight, he was referring to the nearly universal need to celebrate that comes over the world at this time of year. Think about it - a great variety of cultures, for reasons secular or divine, have some sort of celebration when the calendar resets. There's something about a new year that seems to require some sort of observance beyond having to exercise extra caution when writing checks. It's a natural time to take stock of your life, make a note of what you want to change, and do something about it. It occurred to me tonight that the number 2007 feels odd. Every new date seems to, but there was something about this one that I couldn't put my finger on. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that five years ago, 2002, I rang in the year that has gone down in history as the most difficult year in my life thus far. Now, I have some perspective - just because a particular year was the worst one I've had in my short life doesn't mean it was as bad as it can get, and I'm grateful to not know how bad bad can be. But if I have a lucky number, it's the number 5, and I'd like to think that 2006 closed the 5-year cycle that began in 2002. And it did an excellent job - it started off rough, but gave me a Ph.D., my first real teaching experience and some quality time with my family, a great new job in a fantastic new town, and ended with one of the nicest Christmases in recent memory. So I'm raising a glass to 2007, in the hopes that a new cycle will begin. One in which every year is the BEST year of my short life. Foolishly optimistic? I'm sure. But what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic.

The love of my life?

Okay, so we've been dancing around this for too long. It's time we admit to ourselves what we're doing. I've flirted with you for I don't even know how long. I think I've always been more fond of you than I was quite willing to admit. But it's time to lay it all out on the table...shout it from the rooftops. I am deeply in love with...sauce. It really doesn't matter the type: sweet or savory...Asian or French...sauces freaking rule. I am convinced I love French food, even though I haven't sampled much of it, because it almost always involves sauce. Usually a sauce that involves butter and/or cream, but milkfat is a love affair for another day. For a long time I just wrote sauce off as goo...something there solely to disguise badly made food. But I have come to the realization that I do so LOVE goo... red wine and herb, brandy peppercorn, soy...followed by caramel, chocolate, or fruit goo for dessert. One day I'm going to open a restaurant and just call it Sauce. Or maybe Goo. I need to think this over. But let it be known, Sauce (or Goo, as only your most intimate friends call you), from this day forward, that I love you. More even than Carbs. (But don't even get me started on the Carb/Sauce three-way....Poutine, I'm looking at you....)

Surrealism Defined

Your devout Muslim labmate taking out his prayer rug and doing his daily prayers in the lab while Eminem sings "Lose Yourself" on the radio. Surreal... yet not entirely inappropriate...

Chance Encounters

So, I'm riding the subway home tonight, coming up to my stop, and I glance down at the other end of the car, and there's a reasonably attractive man standing at the door, waiting for the same stop, who makes brief eye contact. I look away. I look back...he makes eye contact again. I look away again...look back to find him looking at me again. If this were a gum commercial, this is where I would frost up the window with my minty breath and write my number in it as the train pulled away from him at the station, (not to be confused with the similarly minty-fresh Mentos commercial, in which I would probably mysteriously lose my pants in a danish-related mishap and, in a minty candy-fueled moment of clarity, turn his coffee cup into a miniskirt in time to walk the fashion show that is about to begin on the platform) but that only works if only ONE of us is getting off at the next stop. If this were an episode of Sex and the City, this is where he would charmingly sidle up to me after getting off of the train and hit me with some cheesy pickup line, to which I would make a clever retort before he asks if he could take me to dinner sometime because he has a feeling he won't be able to stop thinking about me. But this is no gum commercial... no episode of It's not television, it's HBO... nope, this is Real Life. In Real Life, he takes one staircase, I take another, we go our separate ways, and I'm left wondering if he was looking at me because he thought I was cute, or I look like his Aunt Madge, or I still have wing sauce on my chin. Or maybe he was just thinking, "DUDE, why does that chick keep LOOKING at me???" Chance encounters, the stuff of Sandra Bullock movies and soft-core porn, just aren't all that exciting in the harsh glare of reality. But at least it makes the train ride a wee bit more interesting.

Things I Am Thankful For

Happy endings.

Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm talking about happy endings to bad days. I started my day today feeling pretty damned good. I am officially back at the weight I thought had become a pipe dream...my Personal Best Since High School weight, which I haven't seen for about 2 years now. Which is quite fortuitous, as it's only a week until the wedding I was trying to look good for - YAY!! However, my day started to take a serious turn for the worse, as I took the bus out to FedEx to pick up the bridesmaid dress for said wedding and pay the import duties that FedEx was going to want from me before they would let me have said dress - BOO!! Then, back on the bus, with a stop at the mall on the way to work to have the dress altered because, contrary to what dress manufacturers seem to think, we ladies do not need a foot of extra fabric at the bottom of our skirts and THIS lady does not need the world to be checking out our lingerie above the neckline of our tasteful and appropriate bridesmaid dress. When this particular tailor shop was recommended to me, I was not aware that they were going to be sewing the hemline with THREAD MADE FROM THE FUR OF ENDANGERED MARMOTS, WHICH THEY MUST BE DOING FOR THE PRICE I PAID (are there any endangered marmots? There had better be...) All told, I dropped $100 before lunch on alterations and import duties - BOO!! Not fun. Now, I may have a better salary now than I had as a grad student, but I'm not making as much as a typical postdoc because my boss doesn't have a lot of grant money to cover me at the moment. It's enough to live on, but with my financial messiness back home in those expensive American dollars, I'm still living on a tight budget. Toronto is expensive. Even without marmot alterations. So the whole way to work, I'm thinking about what little treats I had my hopes up for this month (YAY!) that I'm now going to forgo (BOO!), and that's just freaking depressing as all get-out. So I finally get to work, at about 11:30 (because, of course, the mall doesn't open until 10 anyway), and the setup that I need to work on is occupied - BOO! When you're already in a foul-ass mood, little things like that just seriously tork you off even more. I go outside to fill up my water bottle, and run into the VGLM - YAY!! This is the first bright spot in my day since I got off of the scale - I vent my frustrations to the VGLM for a while, ask him to tell me something happy, only to find out that most of the things going on in his life aren't exactly going swimmingly, so at least we commisserate a bit. Hey, bonding is bonding, and I'll take bondage...er, bondING with the VGLM any way I can get it. Seriously, SO dreamy. And hey, at least I was looking relatively skinny and cute today - YAY!! And I come back into the lab, and the guy using the setup is finishing up, so I'll get to use it - YAY!! Except when I try to, one of the weak spots in the ground wire breaks entirely - BOO!! So now I'm trying to figure out what I can do with the rest of my completely ineffectual, unproductive day that might be somewhat effectual or productive, and a labmate (and my Male Canadian Alter Ego) calls from Chemistry. I happen to mention said wiring problem, and he offers to help - YAY!!! Except, being my MCAE, he insists on giving me a hard time the entire time - BOO!! - which normally I take pretty well but today am absolutely not in the mood for. So after he sauters my wire (which sounds dirty but I assure you is not), he makes me go back over to Chemistry with him for donuts (YAY) that I can't eat (BOO!!!) because of that whole trying-to-be-skinny thing. Finally, I come back over to my lab at about 5:30 and START working on my devices to see if they actually work the way they're supposed to, after spending a whole week trying to make them...

and...

THEY DO!!!! HELL TO THE YAY!!!

I feel the need to mention here that nothing... NOTHING ever works for me the first time I try to do it. And this is a completely new field for me, and I really wasn't convinced I'd be able to do it. You spend seven years in grad school, and you start to think maybe you've chosen a career you're just not very good at. Now, I still have to figure out if the CHEMISTRY I want to do in them will actually work, but at least I've gotten through the engineering part of the project and go back to being a chemist for a while. It's a nice feeling. So this is my Happy Ending for the day. If something else shitty should happen to occur before I go to bed tonight, it's going to go in tomorrow's Shit File, because today ended well.

And with that, I shall end this rambling and not terribly interesting post. If you've made it this far, gentle reader, then you must really love me.

Knock knock....

Who's there?
Ima.
Ima who?
Ima bout to smack some bitches up.

I don't actually work in the Chemistry building here at the U of T - I get to work in a much nicer, newer, shinier building a short walk away. Once or twice a week I walk over to Chemistry for one reason or another, but for all intents and purposes, I am not known in the department outside of my own group. So today, after group meeting, my labmate and I are leaving the building to come back over to our lab, and as we walk down the hall in which the first-year chemistry labs are taught, an old man in a lab coat asks us, "are you CHM 139 students?" To which we laugh and say no, in fact, we are not. Old Man's response is, "well, you look like it." He was all set to lecture us on being late to lab when he saw us coming toward him down the hall. Now, I am old enough that I am starting to appreciate that looking younger is a good thing, but young enough that someone assuming I'm A DECADE YOUNGER than I actually am feels more like insult than flattery. At least Labmate is a good 5 years younger than me and Chinese, so it's an easier mistake to make (no matter how long I live, there are two things I doubt I'll ever be able to do on the first try: understand an Indian accent or guess an Asian's age). And I don't care if I DID have my hair up and no makeup on (Looking Pretty is expressly forbidden while working in the cleanroom - nothing says SMOKIN' quite like booties and a hairnet...), I don't look 18. At least, not with my glasses on. Seriously, ever since I got them people tend to guess that I'm around 25 instead of 20, which is about how it should be, in my opinion. So I'm mildly torked off. Bring it on, Old Man, you're goin' DOWN - I may look young, but I can take you.

Oh, and did I mention that CHM 139 is the course I will be TEACHING next semester? Not TAing, LECTURING. Yeah. Good times.

Things I Am Thankful For

Buskers. In particular, my favorite busker who, some mornings, plays the violin in the Queens Park TTC station. This morning, he was playing Csardas, with accordion accompaniment. That just starts my day off right.

Things I Am Thankful For

Kindred spirits. No matter where I go or what I'm doing, I always seem to find them somewhere.

And all I really want, is to meet a soulmate
Someone else to catch this drift
And what I wouldn't give...to meet a kindred...

-Alanis Morrisette

Independence Day

Tonight, November 2, my best friend is out celebrating her own personal Independence Day. A year ago today, she got out of a toxic relationship, began a new direction in her career, and set into motion a series of positive changes in her life. Congratulations, #1 - I love you dearly, and am so proud of you. It's been a big year for my loved ones - to all those who have made drastic and significant life changes, I salute you. Cheers.

Things I Am Thankful For

As a countdown to the real Thanksgiving (Canadians seem to think it happens in October - as IF), I humbly present the first installment of Things I Am Thankful For:

Men who know how to wear fitted clothing.

The VGLM

On a Monday morning, during my second week at work, a man walked past my desk. A Very Good-Looking Man. I noticed. It took a couple more passes throughout the day before it occurred to me that the Very Good-Looking Man smiled at me whenever we made eye contact. Now, I'm not the kind of girl that is used to this kind of behavior. I have to make a conscious effort to smile at a guy that I think is cute - I tend to assume that they look right through me. Because, to be honest, I find they usually do. Now, don't get me wrong - I know I'm fabulous, and my fabulosity is of a very great depth, but it takes time for people to see it. You definitely have to spend some time with me to love me, and I find that I become more attractive in direct proportion to the amount of time someone has spent getting to know me. So, while I do occasionally get looks from guys on the street, I'm not used to smiles from strangers. Smiles throw me a little off-kilter, especially when coming from what I consider to be a Very Good-Looking Man.

So I decided I'd like to find a way to meet this VGLM, to see if maybe there was a reason for the smile. But when you've just moved to a new city, and just started a new job, you're meeting people left and right and it's hard to find a way to meet someone in a way that's going to lead to real interaction, instead of rapid-fire introductions after which names are promptly forgotten. But lo and behold, it wasn't long before I found a way - it's amazing how many odd little social events crop up around here. (There's a LOT more to do at the U of T than there ever was at Purdue OR UVa for us socially-inept science geek types.) And in a lot of ways, there's nothing more heartbreaking than finding out that the person you've been admiring actually vastly exceeds your expectations. I'm not going to go into great detail about all of the things we have in common, all of the details about him that are truly remarkable, or the genuine knack he has for making you feel like you are the only person in the room. Just suffice it to say that he instantly became one of the biggest crushes I've ever had, and I actually thought I had become crush-proof at this point in my life.

But here's the problem: I have a pretty good guy-dar, and he's just not that into me. He is incredibly nice, and friendly, and DAMN he has a way of smiling at me that just melts me, but I'm hardly the first person to notice these traits in him and I'm sure I won't be the last. I can feel the energy shift that happens when there's another girl around who is younger, prettier, thinner, etc. than I am. I'm just not the sort of person he's drawn to. And I'm too old to try to force that shit. So he can go right on looking through me. And I'll go right on being a sucker for that smile. And that's fine.

But seriously...VGLM...call me.

5 o'clock pick-me-up

You know what's insane? How I can be completely tired, bored, literally falling asleep at my desk, ready to go home on a drizzly, cold, gloomy Tuesday evening. Until that one particular person walks past my desk. The sudden rush of happy reminds me that, at heart, I am still approximately twelve, and desperately hoping to be noticed. Yet somehow, it's enough for me to just notice him.