Then I went to college, then graduate school, where my athlete’s body help up…decently on a superficial scale…with very little maintenance…until my metabolism slowed down and I gained 20 pounds, few of which I have actually managed to lose.

It was goodbye professional athlete body, hello grown-up-in-the-real-world body. And it has been a difficult thing for me to accept.

I’ve seem people go from zero to athlete at my age, and I envy them the fact that they are and may continue to be in the best shape of their lives for several years to come (if they keep up the hard work). This – being in the best shape of my life – is an impossibility for me now, because I WAS in the best shape of my life as a full time professional skater at the age of 19. That is a high point that I can never reach again. And it bums me out. I mean, sure, plenty of people who are out of shape or feel out of shape, know how hard it is to feel limited in their fitness gains. But with hard work, many of them can really move towards being in the best shape of their lives. Me? It’s all been downhill since I turned 20.

Another thing that I’ve let work against me in the past decade? This whole “going to the gym thing”. It’s been hard for me to get into. Before I quit skating to go to college, I never had to do a single crunch, a single squat. I didn’t have to spend an hour on the cardio machines 3x or more per week to stay in shape. Furthermore, to me, going to the gym for 1-2 hours and doing these things didn’t feel like a work out. I was athletic on an elite level. That whole “no pain no gain” thing? That was me! And it wasn’t just something my coaches told me, in fact, no one ever told me this, but it’s what I developed in my head as a concept of physical fitness: “real” physical training makes your muscles ache until they scream at you “enough, dear god, just let me sleep now!” I’ve never had that feeling on the treadmill or the elliptical machine. So I let my little attitude problem get the best of me.

Then I decided it was time to face the facts. I was in my late 20s and working well over 40 hours per week. Training at the level I used to train was no longer possible. Period, end of story.  My choices were either to sit around in boycott of the gym and not stoop the “unworthy level of exercise”  and get fat, or reinvent my vision. I chose the latter. It was about a year ago that one of my friends, one of the ones who went from zero to fitness buff (and in the middle of graduate school, at that), ran a half marathon. I had a moment of clarity: If she can start from nothing and get in shape like that, what the hell was my excuse? So, I started running, with a goal of doing a 10k. After that, I was addicted. I signed up for a half marathon in October. I’ve recently decided to start training for a full marathon being held next January (The Disney marathon. Shut up – it’s still 26.2 miles!)

Training for long distance running has been one of the best and healthiest exercise habits of my life. There are several reasons why I would recommend this to anyone who is healthy enough to run. Long distance goals are real fitness goals. Not that “I’m going to lose 10 pounds this month” horseshit that we occasionally feed ourselves. Having a distance running goal is much healthier, both physically and mentally than these short-term superficial weight goals. It used to be that if I gained three pounds, I really start watching my diet. If I gained 4 or more pounds, I obsessively diet and work out until I was at my “normal” weight. Some of this was practical for my occupation back in the day: I did some pairs skating and had to stay light enough to be lifted overhead and tossed around. But then I carried on that mentality into my post-skating lifestyle, and it is just not something that I can afford to tax myself with any longer. With a real long term distance goal, like running 26.2 miles in a year from now, I am constantly working towards that goal, with checkpoints along the way, but it gives the freedom to not tear myself down if I can’t get to the gym for a week. It’s physically more healthy too. For example, last night, I started my run and a mile into it, my knee started to bug me. When it didn’t go away after a few minutes and the pain started to become a little stronger, I stopped and decided to take a few days off. I can do that…because I’m not trying to lose 2 pounds this week, or ten pounds this month, or meet some insane goal of doing x hours per day of exercise to meet a superficial short term goal. Having a long term goal means I can silence all those superficial alarms  and listen to my body. It was hard to quit on a workout, and I probably pushed my knee about a quarter of a mile farther than I should have in hopes that my knee pain would lessen and I could complete my six mile run, because I can’t wait to get passed 6 miles which is the check point after which I really begin to feel amazing, but I was able to tell myself that “in the grand scheme of things, taking care of myself and running 26.2 miles in a year is more important than running five more miles today.”

So it begins.

$199 for ten of these babies!

Oh, and the best part? We get to keep them and they wont wilt – ever!

First of all, a lot of people who aren’t professional scientists seem to think that having a PhD in the science field provides some kind of buffer from the turmoil of today’s job market. This is simply not true. Just like most other areas, the ratio of jobs for PhD holders to PhD holding job seekers is smaller than ever. So, yes, while it is true that the science field is hiring more jobs than many other fields, there is an unprecedented amount of competition for these jobs because, duh, there’s a fuck ton of emerging scientists entering the market, so this doesn’t really translate into increased job availability per person looking for employment.  And, despite having a lot of practical experience inside a laboratory, many companies don’t consider this kind of experience to be as useful as “real-world” experience gained outside academia. Having accrued real world experience is more of an advantage than having a high degree for more reasons than one. Besides having a record of work that involves commonly sought after skills (which I have none. I have extremely uncommon skills, that are, imagine that, uncommonly sought after), I’ve noticed a trend: companies seem to be leaning towards hiring bachelor’s degree holders more than PhD’s. T he last job fair I went to, I was actually turned away from about half of the booths because they only wanted bachelors degree holders. This is because they consider bachelors degree holders and PhD holders to have the same amount of “real-world” experiences, that is, none. Furthermore, it is about 3x cheaper to hire a person with a bachelors degree, and on top of that, most companies aren’t pushing the research right now and this cuts down on the number of positions for  PhDs. They probably figure that they’ll be better off having hired 3x as many cheap bachelors degree holders who will have accrued five or so years worth of experience by the time things pick up again.

Yup, I felt pretty down on myself  and my degree(thoughts of setting it on fire just for the cathartic venting of rage, and because I can pay a small fee and the university will print me a replacement) after being rejected three times, feeling like I was losing jobs to people with bachelors degrees, and facing the prospect of being an unemployed PhD holder. Oh oh oh, and to top it all off, I was turning 30 and didn’t feel like I had much to celebrate. November was truly the pits. I started having anxiety attacks again, after 7 years of not having anxiety attacks or treatment for anxiety/depression. Then the frequency of the anxiety attacks increased to daily, then 2x a day, then 3x a day, and then it was more or less like having one long anxiety attack – I had to put forth serious effort in attempt to keep myself from despairing over my situation.

And to make everything better (snark), people kept telling me “it could be worse.” By the way, don’t say that to people you care about. It’s a really douche-y thing to say, even if it is true and you are trying to get them to see the silver lining, or appreciate what they have…because know what? It doesn’t make them appreciate what they have. “It could be worse, you could have no job like so-and-so,” one of my friends was fond of saying whenever I would start whining about how shitty my job search was going. The only thing saying ‘it could be worse’ does is make you think about how much more it could suck without actually putting a positive shine on your life. Seriously, it. does. not. put. a. positive.  shine. on. things. It doesn’t change or elevate my situation to a less crappy level than it is. Furthermore, whether you mean it or not, whoever you say it to is going to feel like you are minimizing/trivializing their ordeal, which is probably a pretty significant concern in their mind.   So, really, unless you yourself have it worse than the person you are saying it to, you should know that saying “it could be worse” is just going to depress the hell out of your friend and possibly make them think you’re a douche, k? The only – ONLY – good exception to this rule, in my opinion, is if you actually have it worse than the person who is complaining. Then you can say that, and it actually might make them consider not complaining. If you don’t have it worse i.e. if you’re not staring unemployment and financial ruin square in the face or have it worse, like have already gone into financial ruin or are unemployed and suffering the consequences of unemployment, I don’t want to hear it from you. Simply put: you will sound very smug to me if you tell me “it could be worse, ” while you yourself don’t actually have it worse. So this is my advice: If you want your friend to stop complaining because you are sick of listening to it, just say that!  Shit, I was pretty sick of hearing myself complain about the job hunt and all my fears of being income-less, healthcare-less, and going into financial ruin when my student loans come due in February.

Then, on my 30th birthday, I got a job offer. And the next day, another job offer. And yestereday, a THIRD job offer! Well, sort of.

The first offer was a position that was brought up to me in passing about 4 months ago – for a post-doc at Brookhaven National Lab. It was just a quick mention, but an application and interview never came my way, so I figured that, what with the whole GPA thing that the National Labs are doing, it was dead in the water and I didn’t give it another thought….until my boss emailed me to once again bring up the post-doc, saying that so-and-so was very interested in me for a position, and it was basically mine for the asking. I told him I’d emailed the guy-in-charge months ago and never heard but if it was for real, I’d be totally interested. I got on the horn right away and said “if this is true, I could possibly commit to this tomorrow, so let me know.” A few hours later I had a phone interview set up for the next morning.

It didn’t turn out to be much of an interview. I picked up the phone and said “Hi, this is Emily,” and the first thing my future prospective boss said was “Hi, we’d like to offer you this position.” Easiest. Interview. Ever. I was in HEAVEN, I tell you. A research position. At a national lab. With (I didn’t mention this earlier) total badasses as my advisors. After the Sandia debacle, I thought my chances of ever having a career in research were over. So you can imagine my elation at this opportunity.

After getting off the phone, I emailed Eastman chemical to let them know I’d received an offer from someone else. I haven’t blogged about this yet, but I had interviewed at Eastman (formerly Eastman-kodak) in mid-November and was awaiting a reply. It was, at that point, 3 weeks after my interview, and they had told me they would have a decision for me in two weeks. The position was a good one, because it was an actual chemistry position, but I’ll admit, I had to feign more interest in it than I actually felt towards the job. There were some other drawbacks to the work and the area, most notably that I wasn’t confident I would be happy doing this kind of job for the rest of my life (and big industry jobs tend to have a kind of…permanence about them for people in my field because you lose relevancy for other types of work), and I didn’t particularly like the geographical location.

Anyways, I went home an enjoyed a nice glass of bourbon, secure in my knowledge that, at the very least, I would not become destitute.

The next morning, Eastman made me a job offer for a whopping 6 figure starting salary. Which I turned down on Monday. Add that to my list of interesting things I’ve done in my lifetime.

Turned down a 6-figure salary in the middle of the worst economic downturn since the great depression. Yup. I just did that. But I have my reasons and can elaborate if you want to know. Just ask, and I’ll reply in due time in the comments section.

And then, on Monday, after formally accepting the offer to be a beamline jockey at the synchrotron, a friend from “company X”, a small start up in MA, where I interviewed in August (and was negged), called to ask me if I was interested in what he described as a “very stressful R&D position,” and inquired as to whether I was still available. To which I replied, in jest, “I could SO kill you right now.” But seriously, it wouldn’t have been the best move for me anyways.

So, there you have it. I’m banking on the economy being ok enough that my additional experience at a top laboratory and networking connections I will gain through the work will get me a job that pretty much makes up the difference in lost earnings from the next two years. Which could very well happen. Despite the pay, the position I’m taking is very good. It’s a prestigious position, very high visibility in my field, and if I don’t f*** it up, it will lead to a much broader field of opportunity than what was available to me as an entry level PhD holder. What does this mean for me in the near future, you ask? Weeeelllll, I’m moving to New York in 2 weeks. Alex and I are driving up to NY a few days before Christmas, and I’m  renting a spare room near the lab in Long Island, while Alex will return to Texas to finish up his post-doc and look for a new job in the NYC-metro area. We’re considering where to stash our guns, but will probably rent a storage unit in Pennsylvania or New Hampshire until we get the proper paperwork in order. I will be sad, dogless, and very busy for the next 6 months. I probably won’t blog much, because, you may have noticed, I never blog at Brookhaven. Too risky in my mind, with big brother right freakin’ there!  On the plus, I’m close to family and many of my friends still live in the northeast area.

I start on January 1st. I will be stationed at the synchrotron at Brookhaven. It will pretty much be my  life for the next months. I’ve been going around saying that “I must become one with the beamline,” and also tossing around the quote that is the title of this blog (which is a Hunter S. Thompson quote from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It’s particularly appropriate for the line of work I’ll be performing. If you don’t get why, just google ‘synchrotron’.)

I hope to be in touch.

Every time in the past year that I’ve run into this chick, she has asked me when I’m getting married, and every time, I’ve told her we’ll get married sometime after I graduate and we have enough money to have a wedding. This time was no different, except rather than ask me when I was getting married, she asked me if I had gotten married yet. I played nice and went back to my table. Some time after, I saw her get up to make her way around the bar saying goodbye to people she knew. I realized that she would have to come by my table on her way to the door, and that’s when I decided to say the meanest words one can say to a graduate student. Now, if you know me, you probably know that I lack tact to an enormous degree, to the point where I can seem like quite a b*tch myself. But it isn’t intentional; I’m just assertive and forthcoming and lack a filter. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did something intentionally b*tchy. So that made this time particularly special. This was premeditated b*tchiness, and I was going to enjoy every second of it.

The moment arrived when she came by my table to say ‘goodbye’ and I made my move:

“Hey,” I said, feigning interest and a smile, “when are you going to graduate?”

When you’re b*tchy and you know it, clap your hands [clap clap]!

In case you don’t know, it is a huge faux pas to ask a graduate student when they are going to graduate. It is just something that you don’t do! Furthermore, this girl was my year in graduate school, which means she is in her 6th year now. I can only imagine how miserable a 6th year would be; I was incredibly bitter and angry and fed up and ready to leave throughout my 5th year.

She told me she was planning to graduate in May.

Then I put the coup d’etat on my b*tch move. “Wow,” I said,” that’s great. I can’t believe it’s been almost 6 years since we started. I’m sure you’re looking forward to finishing up – it feels really good to be done!”

When you’re b*tchy and you know it, and you really wanna show it, when you’re b*tchy and you know it, clap your hands!

She might have read into my intent, in fact, I’m almost certain she did, because I was breaking every law of common grad student decency all in one sitting. And since we’re the same class, it’s not like I can pretend that I don’t know how rude I was being: having already graduated and unsympathetically asking a 6th year when they’ll be done. But honeybadger don’t care! She treated my mentor like garbage and has been rubbing the fact that she’s married in my face for the past year.  Usually, when my b*tchiness offends someone, I do feel bad and ashamed of my behavior. But if she were to ask me why I was so mean to her, I would have no problem telling her exactly why I said what I did.

[clap!clap!]

Lab Rat and I are undergrad alums, and we shared a very, very special bonding experience: surviving PChem together. I actually owe her a great deal for helping teach me calculus during our quantum mechanics class. She started blogging for one of the same principle reason I did mine: to chronicle the adventurous road to the PhD, and beyond.

Go check her out!

After receiving a very enthusiastic invitation to do an on-site interview at Sandia, for a post-doctoral position that would have been a near perfect fit, the invitation was retracted because the policy (set by the bean counters in HR)  now specifically forbids on-site invitations to candidates who don’t meet the GPA minimum requirement.

Never mind that I have the desired skill set (as I was told by the would-be hiring manager).

Never mind that I have a competitive record of successful, published research (as I was told by the would-be hiring manager).

Never mind that I have actually earned a Ph.D. from the 5th ranked institution in my field. Apparently, the grades I got as an undergrad can smite that record.

I was devastated when I learned this.  I then did something that was considered a little bit gauche and earned me a further slap in the face:  I emailed this person back to ask if there are any exceptions to the rule, or if the GPA policy was an impenetrable fortress of red tape. I figured this would be a last-ditch effort because it really did seem like I was being told that I stood no hope of ever getting an interview due to this ridiculous policy. And, because it seemed that we had really clicked on our earlier phone interview, which was followed by her calling my boss to express her enthusiasm at interviewing me (this was according to my boss, after having spoken with her), I thought perhaps, because it seemed like such a good potential fit, if there was anything to be done, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. So I thought there might be one last glimmer of hope when she suggested I call her and we might talk about it.

Oops, and boy was I wrong about that.  She was offended at my audacity. This woman went from hot “you look like a perfect candidate” to very cold and delivered a heaping pile of venom in the guise of “mentorship” advice:

-Tough shit, kid, it’s a strict policy. HR sets the rules and we can’t do anything about it, and you should have known from your previous experience interviewing here that this was the case and checked ahead instead of wasting my time, you trickster.

- You’re probably not cut out for the National Labs and should pursue a different career path.

- Unemployment is 9% and there are a lot of other nanoparticle scientists, so you’re just one fish in a big pond.

- Oh, and by the way, you might find it helpful advice to get a different interview suit. Apparently people remembered that you wore a short skirt to your last interview. You should keep in mind that it’s the whole package down to every last detail.

She didn’t say it as snidely as it reads, but still. Too short? Too short? I wore a f***ing J.Crew business-formal Navy blue dress suit, and the skirt covered my knees and wasn’t even tight, was not low cut, and was picked out for me by the most conservatively dressed members of my Jewish relatives! I looked like freaking Nancy Pelosi’s clone! I could have blended in seamlessly at an all girls boarding school from the early 20th century! I didn’t even wear a single spec of makeup! Wha…how??????!!!!

For the first time, I’m experiencing the burden of being an attractive female in a competitive field: no matter what you wear, or how good your presentations skills and ability to communicate technical expertise in answering questions, you run the risk of being perceived as “sexy” first and foremost, before “professional”.   And apart from bashing my face in with a hammer, there’s nothing I can do except sit back and wait for someone to invent the business-formal burka. Srsly, I’m not completely joking there. 5 years in a male-dominated enterprise, at a high level, leading teams in the field, and I’ve never felt that my looks or my gender have hurt me….until now.

This barely covers how badly this stings and how shitty I feel about myself and my profession right now. It’s depressing that the supposed leaders in our prestigious National Laboratory system seem to care more about looks and GPA than the fact that I hold a Ph.D. from a high ranking institution and have a competitive track record of research publications – which is widely considered a superior metric of scientific aptitude at the doctoral level (yeah, this isn’t exactly baby’s first job out of college. A Ph.D. means 5 or so years of professional training, independent work and publication. My GPA represents the coursework from my first 2 years of “school”, all the while I was employed – “employed” – a paid employee of the university – as a research assistant). You’d think that mounting pile of proof that I can run with the big boys would matter more.  Except it doesn’t matter to the government bureaucrats in HR, of course. Funny, only the government has cared what my grades were. The private companies I’ve interviewed with don’t give a shit about grades, they just want a productive worker.

And Alex left for a conference in Belgium just hours before all this broke. I cried myself to sleep with the aid of a bottle of wine, feeling like a loser and failure for the first time in my professional life, and woke up pissed off, bitter, and slightly puffy-eyed. All I want to do is continue to practice science. I was told that grades don’t matter and your research and references are what really count. If I’m not good enough for the National Labs, then f*** them and their idiotic bureaucracy. I don’t think I’d enjoy having my hands tied with that much red tape anyways.

1. My aunt’s brain tumor removal and recovery have gone very well. Post-op, no remnants of the tumor were visible, and her pace of recovery was very good, which bodes well for the next stage of the game: chemo. She’s facing a very intense regiment of chemo, but for now, we’re optimistic. I decided to start making 1,000 paper cranes. I loved origami as a kid, even though I could only make 2 things: cranes and flowers. I always wanted to make 1,000, but as a kid I don’t think I had the staying power to follow through. I’ve made about 60 so far, but with a trip to Brookhaven I anticipate being able to finish the job. yes, I know I said I’d never go back, but I should know better, that every time I say ‘never,’ I always put my foot in my mouth. Like that time after finishing freshmen chem that I said I would never have anything to do with chemistry again. heh.

2. I’m still hunting for a job, but I’ve gotten some new leads. My boss has been a terrifically helpful ambassador for me, and has been trying to connect me with some of his buddies. I hope something works out. It’s been a rollercoaster, and it’s nice to follow the downs (of not hearing back from anyone for months) with some ups, like hearing from my boss that a few people are interested in me. In fact I might have even gotten a post-doctoral position, according to my boss. One of his cohorts was highly interested, but this interest came with a warning from my boss that I should not feign interest if I’m completely serious about committing to a 2-year post-doc because I would probably get an offer very quickly and be expected to make a fast decision. Due to there being nothing available for Alex, I can’t consider the position. Oh well. I’m also in contact with “Company X” in Boston again. I hope this goes somewhere, or something goes somewhere. Come on, interviews!

3. I have officially begun wedding planning. Due to my aunt’s illness, we’re not planning to have the wedding at her house. Which sucks, because it would have been really lovely. After a metric f*** -ton of indecision, we’ve decided to get married at Cornell, in Ithaca. Alex is an alumnus and the venues are incredible! Here, take a look!

Sage Chapel:

Willard Straight Hall:

So, as far as the DIY-wedding stuff goes, so far so good. The thing I like most about these venues is they’re drop dead gorgeous, and therefore I don’t plan to do a lot of decorating. Which means not spending thousands for flowers. Bonus.  Feels good to have the ceremony and reception venues reserved. Next on the list is the caterer….

Two days after settling on a date and confirming with my aunt and uncle whose house we were planning to be married at, I come to find out that my aunt has brain cancer and the prognosis is…well…it’s too early to tell. So that kind of threw a wrench into the gears. I’m still in denial of the whole thing. I’m so amazingly lucky that at age 29 I have never yet had to face a serious illness in the family like this.  I’m at the “handling it like a 5-year-old stage” right now:  I don’t want to think about it, don’t like it, this sucks and I DON’T LIKE IT, MOMMMMYYYY!!!!!!!

I think I’m going to go to temple for the first time in 10 years and get my jew on. I stopped going to temple after 9/11 because, when I went for the high holidays services and the Rabbi decided to lead a discussion about what 9/11 means for the jews, I couldn’t understand and didn’t care to understand how anyone could possible think to connect the atrocities to “my religion”. I haven’t set foot in a synagogue or gone to services since then.

I kind of want to go to high holidays this year. I can’t explain it in a “feeling religious” way. I don’t feel like talking to god – we reform jews don’t do much of that, anyways. No…this feels like more of a communal thing. It’s like I’ve danced around the fire with my people before, and now I feel the need to do it again. I want to say kaddish because I’ve said it before, I know how to, I’ve done it side by side with “my people” and I kind of feel like doing it again now. Admittedly, the sentiment feels strange to me. But I’m at a strange point in my life right now, so, m’eh. At the very least, high holidays services include quiet chanting in hebrew and it’s kind of a “zen” feeling. I could use that.

I’ll get married eventually. Maybe in a dress at some kind of ceremony. I’ll figure that out later.

I can’t watch these specials. I tried several years back. Watching any of it gives me PTSD. It doesn’t induce a feeling of community within me, it induces a feeling of panic attacks and nausea. My heart races even though I’m not actively trying to put myself back there in time, and my forehead gets all hot and sticky and then my stomach starts lurching and I have to leave the room. Apparently, other people feel some kind of “coming together” in grief on September 11 of every year that inspires them to recall where they were and their memories and share them. Isn’t it amazing how everyone remembers that day so clearly, where they were and what was going on around them that morning?

Whatever.

I hate this sh** and I frankly do not wish to discuss it. I was in Manhattan on that morning and it sucked balls. That whole experience sucked balls, and you know what, it still does.

I took some pictures, I told my story, and I don’t wish to relive this every stupid f***ing year, and if anyone feels the need to tell me how important it is not to let ourselves forget, I’m going to punch them in the crotch.

You think I (or anyone else) can forget? F*** you.

Want to share stories? Here’s mine, tada, the end. And I’m one of the lucky ones, because a building didn’t fall on me or any of my loved ones.

That took a lot of effort to write, by the way. Even just writing about not wanting to talk about it now, I’m starting to get the shakes.

Every September 11, do you know what I try to do? I try to block these memories. Excuse me for not wanting to join everyone in reliving them.

Now for some fun and games! A week ago I posted the “science in reality” flow chart. I’ve certainly made a good number of those faces during my time in grad school, so I thought I’d post about “Barbie’s journey towards her doctorate” – in pictures. These are in chronological order.

This is me after finding out I got into graduate school.

My first night in Texas, out on the town with my new research group.

My first apartment just after moving in.

This is what my apartment looked like after one semester in grad school.

This is what a first year chemistry grad student with no engineering math background and taking a mechanical engineering graduate level course on electron microscopy looks like.

This is me napping on the floor of the instrument room in my lab towards the end of my first year. I want to point out that, unlike the pic above, this pic was not posed. Another group member took it while I was napping and posted it on our group web page.

Second year of grad school and "the hell experiments".

This was taken at the bar about an hour after I gave my second-year seminar.

I don't know what happened to my third year, but there are no pictures from that time period. Third year was when I was living in a different apartment in a meth-infested neighborhood and I think I spent all my time at work. We'll just skip right ahead to 4th year. This is me at the start of my 4th year, taken outside the beamline at Brookhaven as I emerged from a 36 hour experiment. I'm clearly thinking "what is this thing you call sunlight?"

Here I am practicing my final departmental seminar. That's right, I'm using the CRC handbook as a beer coaster.

5th year is all about multi-tasking!

...and angst. Editing manuscripts as I'm sure I've mentioned brings out the angst.

...lots and lots of angst.

This picture was taken in May when my defense had just been postponed and things were really hectic. This is my "sciuhntist iz not ahmused" face.