Death, Destruction, Decay, Damnation, Bored.

I'm sitting at work.

3:21pm.

Adjectives to describe my feelings at the moment: death, destruction, decay, damnation, bored.

Another day is passing by in which I manage to put in the minimal amount of effort, pull some things out of my ass, and make it look like I strive for productivity, results, and furthering human knowledge of the science. In actuality, I sit and wait for my computer to spit back results that will cause me to go into the corner of the lab (where the nitrous tank is located) and take four or five deep breaths and come sit down more happy and a bit giggly. (Professor Federic, that was a joke. Please keep the nitrous tank.)
...

... haha...



...

I think I've begun to loose myself in the push-and-shove of life, or at least for the moment I feel lost amongst computer screens, micropipettes, and the study of spectroscopy. I've lost that vital spark that makes me motivated to care about work...
...or cure diseases...
...or publish papers...
...or even put on lab googles when using lasers.

Maybe I have some how I've inherited this neurodegenerative disease, Huntington's, I've been mulling over for the past 7 months... one single nucleotide mutation can't be that hard to breath into through the air, right?*

I've had this disposition that I work to get through the day, earn money, leave work, and continue with my social life, hobbies, and other things that I love. Someone once told that I view my job in a very French-like perspective, but surely, I never visioned how much a person needs to love their job to be committed to excel and not just pass by with bare minimums. “Bonjour Paresse!**”

I can totally pull of being French.  Shitting baguettes and croissants can't be that hard?

When I joined the academic world of the work force, I simply thought it was a continuation of going to college.  Indeed, it is.  I continue to deal with the bigoted, egocentric men who are, without a doubt, amongst the most intelligent.  I constantly must defend myself for being a woman amidst boys.  It's exhausting.  Sometimes I wish I was a graying middle-aged man in khakis and a button down, but other days I realize that I'm one sexy bitch in the thick of un-showered, un-groomed, Ph.D-pursuing men.

Their motivation?  Competition:  Engineers against scientists, older against younger, left-brained against right-brained, Swiss against Germans, Swiss against foreigners, Swiss against themselves, men against women.  This list can continue forever.

After the day ends, how will I feel about this constant struggle to prove to people that I am erudite?  Will I eventually convey that I am a snobby bitch like the men conveying themselves as arrogant jerks?  I sure hope not. Maybe its time for a life style change.  The struggle to figure out who I am and what I want to do continues.

A.

*Huntington's Disease is passed through offspring by autosomal dominant inheritance. So no, its not possible.

** I totally recommend that book to you. It's a brilliant, funny book if you like to laugh about the French and/or French corporate structure.