After dinner, the table mostly put away, and our daughter’s toys mostly… not put away (yet), the CD player goes on, and the dance party begins.
Matt Heaton steps the tiny masses through basic behavioural norms like stopping and going. Then there’s a Wombat Dance. (We have a 2-year-old, so this all makes sense.) Before Matt, but still in popular rotation, we had Karen K and the Jitterbugs, wherein you, too, may want to be a Jitterbug, or have Pancakes for Dinner.
At some parentally appointed point, the music stops.
At some later painfully negotiated point, toys are put away.
At some even later peacefully navigated point, our daughter is in bed.
At this point, I’m pretty useless.
There’s 1-2 hours left in regulation time before the daily game is over, and I’m not really in the mood for anything creative or productive. Personal growth-related activities? Pfft, grrrl, please.
Ever wanted to be a mad scientist? As a Biomedical Engineer, my version of this involved lab coats, organs, and Southern accents.
If you drive North from Boston on I-95, before you get to New Hampshire, you’ll see on your right an Alfalfa farm. You’ll know because it is written out in what should be wrought iron.
If you take a Systems Physiology class in college, you’ll learn how the kidney’s mostly passive filtration system is truly magical. You’ll know because your kidneys will vibrate warmly. Giving you a hug. From the inside.
If you put those 2 together, you logically derive the motivation for studying Tissue Engineering in grad school: the commercial for Merrill’s Kidney Farm.
Picture folks in thick-rimmed glasses, wearing overalls, and white lab coats. Cue that Southern accent… Continue reading →
She covers her ‘notsorry’ method, which guards your time and treasure without you feeling like a… jerk. She ends her talk thus:
But mental decluttering: learning how to say ‘no’, set boundaries, and give fewer, better fucks? That lasts forever.
So decide what you don’t give a fuck about (know your ‘fuck budget’). Then don’t give a fuck about those things (honestly & politely). 12.5-minute video embedded below to better get this message. Enjoy!
Oh, and yeah, she audibly drops the F-bomb. A lot. But otherwise, it’s SFW!
When you’re unemployed for a few months, you start to question if you’re barking up the wrong tree. Or you’re just not barking right.
When an opportunity to apply to Twitter arose, I couldn’t help but put my name in the hat, and be creative about it, especially since their main product is a freakin’ medium of communication.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I hate cover letters.
It is hard for me to engage in an activity I don’t believe in – and I can’t be the only one who thinks like this. This is a general enough statement, and it applies to me specifically around cover letters. Continue reading →
Ever walk into a dive bar of just construction workers, meanwhile you’re dressed like a city slicker in a sport coat? It’s like the record player scratches to a halt. (Yeah, that totally didn’t happen to me when we got to the little town where we were getting married. Nope. Definitely didn’t happen.)
(Man, that’s gotta be one of my weaker blog post introductions, but it’s been a while, and I’m using my bus commute to be productive via my iPhone and foldable Bluetooth keyboard. So… hi y’all. Good to be back!)