Archive for the ugh. Category

#nerdlife.

Posted in funny, hobbies, Life, Me, Nerdyness, Neuro, randomness, ugh. on 02/18/2011 by asante

Hello world.

My name is Asante, and I am a self-proclaimed certified nerd.

I often find myself researching for fun. I read ahead in text books. I know weird facts and words that normal people don’t care about. I’m going to graduate school to study MORE random facts that only I care about (as far as my friends are concerned, anyways). I read. A LOT.

BUT… I know when to turn it off.

You know, like that self-awareness kicks in at some point and I realize there is more to life than showing people how intelligent I am. I’m realizing now that in this regard, I am an anomaly.

I’ve spent the past 3 weeks getting to know quite a few nerds as I navigate the uncomfortable realm of grad school interviews, and let me tell you: in 3 weeks of these there have not been more that 4-5 “normal” applicants per pool. Seriously. The rest are charmingly, but blatantly socially awkward. To the point where I felt awkward for NOT being awkward. How twisted is that?

I mean I appreciate a person who can really delve into the significance of a single cell patch clamp response. Or the consummatory dopamine circuit. Or even the molecular significance of a missing post-synaptic transporter. (Getting away from you there? I know, fear not, I’m coming back. And yes, your eyes are supposed to be glazing over.) But for the love of everything that is good, approachable and non-awkward, give it a rest sometimes! I love my work and I love the brain and all that, but if you can’t find a balance between your academic motives and your personal life, I don’t know what to say for you.

Even the professors I’ve met, after I  ably describe/discuss the complex parameters of our study and what I do within it, have asked me “What else do you do? Like, when you’re NOT in the lab?” It would surprise me if some of these folks had an answer to that question. Like, seriously.

I love being a nerd, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy being in the company of such intelligent and driven people. But when the professors are gone and the grad students are offering you a beer, TAKE IT. And then relax. We all know you’re smart. Now show us that you can be a normal person. At least until the beer wears off.

Secrets…

Posted in friends, happyness, Home, inspired, Life, Me, memories, rant, sadface, ugh. on 12/11/2010 by asante

“… Some mine, some his, some hers…”

Line from one of my favorite Alice Smith songs: “Secrets” off her album “For Lovers, Dreamers, & Me”.  That line for me is so simple, but loaded.

We all have secrets, right? Those stories or details that we keep to ourselves. Don’t tell anyone but our closest confidantes (and even sometimes, we may not tell them either).

…Or maybe that’s me. Personally, I have some things that I just can’t tell anybody. Maybe it’s because I think that certain things aren’t mine to tell. Other times I just don’t want *that* look on people’s faces. Sometimes it’s just not any of their business. But by and large,  I like to keep to myself. I don’t tell most people jack. I’m a secretive introvert.

Why? Because people judge. And people pity. And it’s a natural human reaction to OVERreact to certain tidbits of news. And on those most secret of topics in my life, I’d rather not deal with all of that. Kindly #STFU, please.

Not for lack of trust, but it’s mostly borne from a tendency to keep sensitive info to myself. While with a whole lot of stuff I’m a total blabbermouth, certain things I have no desire to tell anyone. It makes it complicated when it comes to my confidantes, because there are a few things that even my very closest friends don’t know (aside from probably my best friend and my ex, who know just about everything there is to know about me).

I prefer to keep my secrets.

I think there is something to be said for those of us who can maintain some level of secrecy/candid-ness in the face of the openness that social media provides us these days. I may be extroverted on many levels, I can sometimes be super TMI, I have a Twitter account that I use somewhat obnoxiously, but when it comes to certain topics, I’m totally mum. I just feel like certain things aren’t other people’s business.

Somethings  just don’t need to be shared. The increasingly open nature of the internet has taught me that I need to be more careful with my secrets. They’re secrets for a reason, right?

I may have some trust issues.   o_O

It keeps me a tad closed off from the world, but I like the fact that there are certain things about me that people will never know about me unless they really give me reason to invite them to my inner circle.

Wanna know more? Ask. And maybe in a few months, you may receive. But until then, there are only certain things that I’ll feel comfortable telling people. But it’s a personal deal.

Sharing every facet of my life with EVERYONE I know can’t possibly be healthy. So I’m gonna stick to this method until someone proves me wrong that silence can be golden in some situations. Because seriously, I think sometimes it pays to keep your mouth shut. Meh.

Rachet.

Posted in friends, funny, Life, Me, memories, randomness, rant, ugh., weekend on 10/15/2010 by asante

Seriously. lol.

Ohhhh the hoodrachetassness that Atlanta females are capable of. Especially when some half-famous mostly-fine celeb is in town.  For those unfamiliar with the term, let me clarify:

hood•ra•chet•ass•ness (noun.)  – 1. The wildly unnecessary, uncouth, and ghetto behavior of an individual in response to some insignificant incident. 2. A primarily African-American deep-southern-bred mode of behavior that displays a woeful lack of God-given sense.

Yea. Merriam-Webster, hope you’re paying attention.

I still can’t get over the foolishness that went down last night. Me and some friends of mine decided to head to Opera last night (one of the many fine nightclubs in the city of Atlanta). It was my turn to drive, and I was willing happy to do it. (Sidenote: Those of you who don’t know me, let me be frank. I drive a lil’ crazy. Not SUPER crazy, but lets just say that I rarely obey speed limits. And quelling road rage is a constant struggle. And I’ve been known to scream/curse/yell/berate other drivers on a frequent basis. Yeah.) Now with the particular brand of stupid that characterizes many Atlanta drivers, I get a lil’ agitated on the roads. And moreso when people are rude for no reason.

So when it came time to attempt to turn into the badly-placed parking garage, and folk were wasting my time? I pulled my D.C. Driving* Skills out of my left pocket. I cut a chick off. *Kanye Shrug*

*D.C. Driving: The superior automobile operation capabilities that can only be taught by earning a license on the streets of the DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia Area). Examples include: executing perfect illegal U-turns without having to re-adjust for the curb, effortless parallel parking, knowledge of when your brakes aren’t necessary, and the ability to pull off crazy driving moves without collisions/getting shot at. Also, the ability to navigate without ending up in SW D.C./Anacostia.*

She was NOT happy. Apparently she thought that leaving 10 feet of space in front her car was prohibitive. But hey. It happens. Some time or another, you’ll be hanging out behind the wheel, not paying enough attention to the road, and someone’s gonna cut you off. Does that warrant her reaction?

No. Heeeeeell No.

She and her friends (three cars worth!!) decided that the best course of action would be to spend the evening FOLLOWING us. They parked near us, followed us around the dance floor, trailed us to the bathroom…. ALL NIGHT. All the while Whisper-Thugging like they had nothing better to do with their evening.

Bish what?! lol

Seriously. You got into the parking deck, you got into the club, you may have even gotten a glimpse of that half-celeb who doesn’t give a rat’s tail about your simple self. No harm, no foul. Please find something more productive to do with your life than trying to intimidate me. And I say trying, because you don’t want none of this. Don’t make ME get rachet. lol.

Moral of the story: Atlanta chicks have cornered the market on hoodrachetassness. And maybe I just need to avoid club nights when they’re ALL trying to throw themselves at one of the 12 decent men in this city. Meh. Life choices.

< /rant >

The End. lol.

Smile…

Posted in beautiful, Life, Love, Me, music, quotes, sadface, ugh. on 08/19/2010 by asante

irritated. frustrated. distressed. confused. annoyed. nervous. troubled. bothered. upset. disconcerted. perplexed. worried. aggravated. sad.

Despite it all, trying my best to keep a smile on my face and my head held high. but it’s not easy.

Smile, though your heart is aching.
Smile, even though it’s breaking…
When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by…

If you smile, through your fear and sorrow…
Smile, and maybe tomorrow,
You’ll see the sun come shining through, for you…

Light up your face with gladness,
Hide every trace of sadness.
Although a tear, may be ever so near…

That’s the time, you must keep on trying…
Smile, what’s the use of crying?
You’ll find that life is still worthwhile…
If you just smile


That’s the time you must keep on trying…
Smile, what’s the use of crying?
You’ll find that life is still worthwhile…
If you just smile.

-Nat King Cole, 1964

People can be SO rude.

Posted in beautiful, FML, happyness, Ink/Holes, Life, Me, rant, ugh. on 07/28/2010 by asante

Newsflash: I have tattoos.

5 of them, to be exact. And never before have I been so offended  for the simple fact of  having tattoos as I was this morning. It’s another chapter in “Asante’s Awful Marta Experiences”! lol. Let’s get some background.

The public transportation Gods do not like me. At all. My friend said it best: I have the worst luck on the MARTA. I meet the most offensive, rude, obnoxious people, and I don’t quite know what I’ve done to deserve it lol.

I’ve been sat ON. I’ve been pushed. I’ve been yelled at. I’ve had buses cruise past my stop like I’m invisible. I get inappropriate stares and comments by the bucketful. But the man I encountered this morning took the cake, people, let me tell you.  I’ll set the stage…

Scene: Southbound MARTA Train, approaching Civic Center station. Train is moderately crowded, there is an Impeccably Dressed Gay Businessman standing near my seat, by the door. As patient interaction at work is relatively low lately, I’m dressed more casual than normal: denim capris, white top, coral cardigan.

Train begins to brake.

IDGB: [Glances down at me, apparently catching glimpses of a few of my tattoos. Opens his mouth to speak, with a sneer and an obvious air of contempt.] “Well aren’t you… ‘decorated‘. Hm. I’m sure you’re not going to work today!”

A: [Silently glaring, obviously offended, secretly willing he trips and falls down several flights of  stairs in the very near future.]

Train stops, doors open, IDGB prances off into the station.

End Scene.

How rude is that?! I mean OK, I can understand the fact that people still aren’t exceptionally accepting of tattoos. I get that. And though IDGB may have had his reasons for disagreeing with my life choice, he had ABSOLUTELY no place to voice those opinions to my face, thereby not only making me uncomfortable, but basically assuming that he had a right to judge me for being myself.

Dear IDGB: Screw you.

Screw you for the brief second of self-doubt and insecurity you created in my head. For transiently making me think that my intelligence, my credibility  as a person, as a professional, and as a freaking MARTA customer is in some way diminished by the fact that I have chosen to decorate my body with tattoos.

Yes, some of my tattoos are rather conspicuous (my wrist, behind my ear, my ankle). Yes, I put them there after careful thought. No, I don’t regret a single one. You don’t have to like them. You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to like any person with tattoos, whether it’s some small design you can barely see or some obnoxious symbol across the center of their face. But you owe the person behind the ink the same respect you would give to any un-“decorated” person.

I think my tattoos are beautiful. I am extremely happy that not only have I managed to find designs that are meaningful to me, but that I can take pride in sharing and explaining them to others. Honestly, understanding people’s tattoos can be a really great way to get to know them. I’m sure the vast majority of people with tattoos will tell you that there is a lot more behind the ink than you could understand with a simple condescending glance.

So to those who believe that you are somehow better than me and the other inked ladies and gents of the world, hopefully you’ll step off that pedestal one of these days. Because tattooed people are freakin’ awesome.

And one day, when we’re old and wrinkly, we’ll be more colorful than you.

Apologies and Explanations and Catch-Up

Posted in catching up, F, FML, friends, Home, Life, Me, randomness, rant, ugh., vacation time on 07/09/2010 by asante

Tsk tsk tsk me. Bad blogger. lol

I manage to get all these new awesome fun readers and what do I do? Stop posting. lol. Sorry y’all, but my brain has effectively checked out, and I honestly haven’t been able to think of anything to write. So in an effort to make amends, here’s a definitive, visually-stimulating list of what has been occupying the space between my ears (since properly operating gray-matter is not exactly cutting it lately. lol. excuse the nerdyness.)

1. I’m going on vacation next week folks. And not a “visit people in other cities” type trip. I’m talking sun, sand, drinks, and nothing constructive expected of me other than deepening my skintone. And it’s pretty much consumed my thoughts. lol. I CANNOT wait, I really needed a legit break from life as I know it. *happy dance*

2. So as an aspiring academic, it significantly behooves me to be literarily productive. Unfortunately the snarky folks at a certain journal called “B_________P_________” (I probably shouldn’t publicly badmouth them… In case I need them in the future….) decided to reject my article submission. After a good rousing round of choice 4-letter words screamed within the confines of my apartment, I’ve done my best to get over it and start working on making it even more awesome than before. Take that, reviewers.

3. F and I had a minor-ish fight over the past few days, resulting from a few weeks of a veritable communication breakdown. Of course in any long term, long distance relationship, communication is essential, I think we both just needed a reminder about that. Thankfully all is well again, and things are back to normal. And he’s coming to visit soon!!! (Get your handsome self down here, ASAP, mister. lol. ♥ you :)

[Note: clearly the above picture is NOT me and F…. lol.]

4.

I’m movinnnnnn. Not any large move, jsut across town to a more affordable apartment. But it still requires the boxes and the trucks and the tape and the easily bribed male friends to pick up boxes and furniture and such. *sigh*. Maybe I should start packing… hrm…

Anyways, that is my lame attempt at a photographic explanation to why I haven’t written a significant blog post in almost a week. Here’s hoping I can continue riding the popularity wave from my “Freshly Pressed” post lol.

Anyways, I promise to re-insert my brain into my skull sometime between now aind July 20th. But most likely later than that. #whoops.

Later blogfriends!

No Really. Leave Me Alone.

Posted in Life, Me, news, ugh. on 07/02/2010 by asante

“Damn….pssst…ay…..Ay…. AY!!! AY Sexy!!!! Where you going?”

“Why won’t you smile for me baby?!”

“You got a man, beautiful?”

“Naw girl, after you… I’m gonna enjoy the view.”

“Come here, let me talk to you. I just wanna get to know you.”

“Don’t look so mad sweetie.”

“You can’t have any new friends?”

“Oh what, you can’t speak? Well f*** you then b*tch, you ain’t sh*t anyways.”

“You think you won’t get f***ed up, being so stuck up? Huh?”

“Not like you’re cute anyways b*tch, you just have a fat *ss.”

I wish I was making this mess up. But I’m not.

Whistles. Honks. Yelling. Whispers. Snaps. Claps. Kissy-noises. Ugh. Every single God-blessed day I hear these verbal harassments thrown at me, my friends, strangers, pretty much any female who at that particular moment is nothing but a moving target for that particular pig’s daily dose of rachetassness. For no reason other than: 1. deciding to leave the house 2. having the audacity to be female and 3. not wanting anything to do with the speaker.

Let’s get one thing straight right now, shall we?

I’m not your “baby”. I do not want to smile for you. I will not give you my number. Honking your horn and leering at me from your car is not flattering.

It’s harassment. And It. Is. Infuriating.

And what can we do? Talk back, hope they walk away? Or risk harm because we decide to stand up for ourselves? Sure some of them may just be kidding around, but what about the ones who aren’t? Why do I have to put myself in jeopardy just because you want to objectify me?

To all the grody men who think that the former are appropriate ways to approach or gain the attention of a female, listen up. No girl sets foot in this world for the sole purpose of your visual pleasure. EVER. If she ignores you, take the &*($@#!*&% hint. It’s not your right to lash out at her. She doesn’t owe you a God-blessed thing. I hope for your sake, your mother raised you better than that, and if not, I feel very sorry for you, and her, and anybody who has the displeasure of falling into your crosshairs.

You are a sad, pathetic excuse for a real man. You do not deserve the attention you seek. And I will continue walking past you, irritated frown on my face, head held high, with nothing but the utmost lack of respect and powerful disdain for you and all of your kind.

And silently wishing you would all go straight to H-*-L-L.