Un-Prophetic

So, when I had just met my new husband, Jonathan, my friend Hannah and I stopped by a journal meeting to visit our friend Camilla. Jonathan was a member of the journal as well. He recognized me and came over to ask me to do a survey for a class he was taking. He was fairly friendly, mostly because we had already met, had had several lengthy conversations, and had a date set up.

After the journal meeting was over, Hannah, Camilla and I walked back to Camilla's house. Hannah told me she disapproved of Jonathan. Due to my lack of social graces and introduction-making skills, she was unaware that I knew him and found him ridiculously buddy-buddy for a stranger. When Camilla told her I had a date with Jonathan set up, Hannah felt bad about her (justified, given what she knew) assumptions. I assured her it was all right: It was entirely my fault for not introducing them.

"Anyway, we're just going on a date. It's not like I'm going to marry him or anything."

Good question

So yesterday I was taking a final. When I finished my test, I pulled out my phone and saw about ten missed alerts. Some of them were expected, and most of them were from people I know. However, there were two missed calls from the same number, which I didn't know. I decided that I should probably call them back, so I did. Here is the ensuing conversation.

Grumpy Man (GM): Hello?
Me: Hi, I saw that you had called me a few times, so I'm calling back.
GM: Who is this?
M: Rachel Bohman.
GM: I don't know any Rachel Bohman. Why are you calling?
M: I saw that you had called me twice in the last two hours, so I'm calling you back.
GM: This is a private residence. How did you get this number?
M: Your number was in my phone. I had two missed calls from you.
GM: Don't call this number.

Was he not listening? Was I insufficiently clear? Why?

No!

One of my pet peeves is when people misuse science to support their own agenda. I would like to believe that science is unbiased. It is a way to understand the world. Knowledge is power--if we know what the world is like, we can make better choices about how to live in it. I realize that different people may interpret the same facts differently, but if everyone has all the facts, that's the best we can do.

For example, I hate the "[chemical] is in this and [toxic substance]" argument. For example, an anti-tobacco website contained these facts:

"Acetic Acid is found in cigarettes. Acetic Acid is also found in floor wipes.
Acetanisole is found in cigarettes. Acetanisole is also an ingredient in some perfumes.
Geraniol is found in cigarettes. Geraniol is also found in pesticides.
Cinnemaldyhyde is found in cigarettes. Cinnemaldehyde is also found in pet repellant.
Urea is found in cigarettes. Urea is also found in Pee."

These are all true statements, but they neglected to mention that acetic acid (vinegar) is also found in salad dressing, acetanisole is an approved food additive, geraniol is an artificial flavoring, cinnemaldehyde is a flavoring and anti-cancer agent, and urea is found throughout your bloodstream. Their argument is irrelevant.

Even worse is the "[chemical] is only one atom/bond away from [toxic substance]" argument. One atom makes a lot of difference; one subatomic particle makes a lot of difference. Gold is one proton away from mercury. Water is one atom away from a highly toxic and explosive gas that smells like rotten eggs. A different structure means the chemicals are different. Diamonds and graphite are both pure carbon bonded differently.

Moral of the story: find real reasons to back up your argument. Just say "no" to scare science.

Irrational

Lemony Snicket wrote something along the lines of "There are two kinds of fears: rational and irrational." Most of my personal fears are of the latter variety. I think my fear of driving is fairly rational--somebody could die if I make a mistake. Similarly, I consider my feelings towards germs a healthy respect.

On the other hand, I think my fear of needles and doctors is irrational. I can't justify it with a traumatic childhood experience or say that there is any good or even decent excuse for it.

However, my very most irrational fear is probably of balloons. I like balloons, as long as they stay safely away from me and nobody touches them. I absolutely hate it when people touch or threaten to pop or (heaven forbid) actually pop balloons. I have no explanation, just a ridiculous terror that not even my fiance will respect.

Retrospect

This is probably revealing my vast ignorance of historical research, but I've always been a little suspicious of people who claim to be able to solve mysteries hundreds or thousands of years after the fact. I know sometimes there must be old records discovered or DNA analysis performed or some other piece of voodoo that sheds new light on an old shadow, but I thought a big part of solving a mystery is the physical evidence, which rarely sticks around for that long.

I was recently watching a TV show about Jack the Ripper. The producers claimed to have new suspects, despite the 122 year gap during which Jack was inactive and/or dead. It all sounded like hearsay and speculation to me. "Mr. X knew about anatomy. Ms. Z could have been physically strong enough to commit murder." OK, but that doesn't make either of them guilty. I know lots of people who have taken anatomy classes and lots of other people who are pretty strong. I'm pretty sure none of them are murderers (fingers crossed).

I think the same principle applies to people who try to analyze miracles and come up with an explanation for them. We don't really know exactly how Jesus walked on water or healed the blind. It might be fun to speculate that it was through quantum mechanics, but there is no proof. You can't say that definitively, despite what the people in the hallway the other night thought.

Peeved

I always struggle when people ask me what my pet peeves are, mostly because I don't really think about them very often. Recently one of them came up, however, and I would like to record it for posterity. I hate it when strangers or people I don't know well touch me. Absolutely hate it. Let me live my life in my bubble of urban isolation. Do not touch my arm or my back or my belly. If you need to move around me, contort yourself so you can squeeze past with no physical contact or wait for me to move. That is all.

Inherent

I seem to have some inherent expression or quality that speaks to people. It says, quite plainly, "Talk to me. Tell me your problems. Ask me about my life," and whatever this quality is, it speaks more clearly than any hints I give to the contrary.

I have a roommate who will regularly come talk to me about the problems in her life or the experiences she had growing up. She will talk for fifteen or twenty minutes while I work on a timed take-home test. She will talk at 1:00 in the morning when the only thing I want is to finish my assignment and go to bed. I have tried hinting that these are not really the best times for me. "What are you doing?" "Oh, just rushing to finish this." "Oh, OK. Let me tell you about my life."

Today I had just settled down on campus to study fifty pages of material for a quiz I had in 45 minutes. My fiance's home teacher came over. "Do you mind if I sit here?" "Go ahead. I'm just studying for a quiz I have in 45 minutes." He sat down and started chatting with me.

I was once on the bus with earbuds in when the woman next to me engaged me in conversation, of a sort. She told me her life story and wound up by advising me to eat fewer meals and snacks.

At times like these, my answers tend to be as close to monosyllabic as possible, and don't always involve real words. I don't really respond to anything they say, my tone is neutral, and I never contribute my own information to the conversation. I never make eye contact or even look in the general direction of my conversational partner. My voice, body language, and the social conventions I follow say "Leave me alone." But apparently that elusive quality of mine screams "Talk to me!!" Too bad. I just want to be antisocial in peace.

Once upon a time...

So my fiance recently decided that I should probably have a new coat, as the one I had been wearing was the same hand-me-down I have used since I was twelve. Apparently it's no good to wear clothing that's half my age.

Anyway, as an early birthday present, he gave me a new coat. It is very stylish and I immediately acknowledged that it's far more aesthetically pleasing than my old one. I stopped wearing the faded, ill-fitting coat of my past and started wearing the snazzy new one. And thus we lived happily ever after...for a few days.

The first sign of trouble was when one of the semi-functional buttons came off. "Hmm," I said, "My button seems to have come off. Ah well." And so I went on my way.

Fast forward another three weeks. I had lost two decorative, nonfunctional buttons, one semi-functional, and all the functional buttons. Buttoning up was no longer an option, which was a shame, as the weather has been stubbornly un-spring-like. One day I told this tale of woe to my boss, who surprised me with her generosity. She brought in a needle and thread and sewed all my buttons back on while I was working the next day. And thus we lived happily ever after.

Insanity

It has been said over and over again that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. People like to say this when they are trying to dissuade their friends from doing the same thing over and over. The first set of people tends to ignore that no matter how many times they quote this axiom to their friends, their friends never change their behavior. In other words, they keep expecting different results from repeating the same phrase. But I digress.

When I am using my laptop on campus, I usually do not have access to my charger. Therefore, it is vitally important to me that the battery last as long as possible. So, when I get to campus, I typically take the following steps:

1. Turn the brightness way, way down.
2. Close all programs that I'm not actually using.
3. Set the performance mode to "Power Saver."

My computer has an icon that tells me what percentage of my battery I have left and how much time that corresponds to. Turning the brightness down increases time, as does closing extra programs. However, every time I turn the performance mode to Power Saver, I lose about five to ten minutes of time. You would think I would stop using Power Saver mode, as it definitely does reduce the performance of the computer. You would be wrong. Maybe I'm insane.