Summer Starts

Almost forever this time, but I'm only starting my second week of a summer internship at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.

The spring quarter at Hopkins ended really well: 2 A's and 2 B's.  It was a relief to know that I could do well in biology lab and statistics, since I think those are the two classes that indicate I might be a good scientist.  The more test-reliant classes, BioCore43 and Ecological and Environmental Physiology, again dragged B's, but at least not C's.  I can forgive myself for EEP (I even disagree with the grading/teacher, a little), since I wasn't quite ready for that class.  BioCore43 was an improvement, so I can't complain.  I just dread having to take BioCore41 and 42 again, though.  I don't know how to get better at testing.

Work at the NMNH is good.  I like what I'm doing, although I admit it is dull.  I'm in a foul mood today because the skull measurements aren't turning out right.  Our numbers don't match, and until they do we can't go on gathering data.  It's frustrating that my training period is stretching into a second week when there's only ten weeks in the internship - I may have to stay an extra week in order to feel satisfied with my experience here.  But Eric is being patient, and I'm really grateful.

Part of my present agitation comes from the living situation.  I'm living rent-free with an uncle, his wife and three young daughters, sleeping on the living room floor.  I'm very lucky to have found a free place to stay, and they even feed me dinners and let me take leftovers for lunch, but the chaos of the household unsettles my mind frame and leaves me in a really bad mood, which makes facing my daily responsibilities difficult.  My uncle and his wife share philosophies that I don't agree with.  He talks a lot about being open-minded like the Americans, about listening to one's children and networking for success, but he doesn't do a lot of listening and thinking.  When he talks, his voice is so commanding that it invades my own thoughts, which makes me uncomfortable and does not encourage me to think and respond.  So I sit in repressed silence, biting my tongue to be polite, and by now it's become exhausting.

He seems to have some control over his wife, too, despite what he declares.  He wants her to be a full-time mother while only he works.  Perhaps it's good in some household, but I think in this one the children have become repressed.  Their mother believes in learning instigated by fear, and uses a harsh, loud tone to command her children to eat, brush their teeth, and go through an insane routine of nose cleaning, vitamin supplements and mouth washes before bed.  She means well in her heart because her children do not cry when she yells while I struggle to hold back tears as if my own mother were yelling at me.  I think they know she loves them, but it is such a chaotic way to run a household.  They murmur compliance but drag their feet, unmotivated to action.  She also believes that students need to fear their teachers in order to learn, and demands her children hold their highest grades in their classes in true Chinese mother fashion.  Unfortunately, she sometimes go as far as completing, in part, her daughters' assignments.  I understand her motivations, but her actions churn my stomach.

Her children are sweet, but like all children under 15 they drain your energy.  The youngest is entering second grade, and she waits for me to come home each night to play card games with her, even though the wait often lasts until 10pm or later.  Like her middle sister, she is one of those children who linger over their dinner, forced to finish a given food quota and eating spoonfuls by sluggish spoonfuls.  I try to help by dangling a game of cards if she finishes her dinner promptly, and she complies.  We brush our teeth together each night so that she would finish that too in a timely manner.  What her mother commands by threats I learned to tease out with games, and for me she hurries, for me she waits.  This, as one can imagine, is incredibly touching, and I love the little one dearly.  We would go through her grammar book together at dinner under her mother's stern eyes and under my insistence she would go over her answers twice - I hope it's a lesson she'll remember, because I'm certainly struggling with that now!  But all this rebuilding, brick by brick, drains my energy after a long day at work.  Today I'm hesitant to leave my bookstore sanctuary and take the train home, because the moment I walk into that condo I feel responsible for this little girl.

Her sisters are slowly growing into their parents.  I'm at a loss for words when they mock and tease the youngest and I as we play cards, or as I urge her to finish eating.  "Take a bite," I would say, dangling a card move over her nose with a smile.  "Yeah, take a bite," her sisters would jab, turning my encouragements into a demeaning command one would give a dog.  They would peak at both our cards and spill our secrets, jabbering random card names as we struggle to hear each other ask for the next card in Goldfish.  It's infuriating, and although I am older, I can't think of a reprimand that would make me unlike their mother.  They are too old to be encouraged by games and too mean-spirited for honest words, but also too young for a hard talk.  Plus, I only seem to be capable of managing one girl at a time.  The three of them together confuses my intentions, so thus far I've focused all my energies on the youngest while the other two run wild.  It's exhausting, and I'm tired, and frustrated into redundancy.

And by now I know I write most when life is frustrating.

This weekend a friend was kind enough to let me live in her apartment.  She needed paid help for a day, which I was more than happy to offer, but extended the hospitality of her couch for the weekend once I confessed my frustrations with my uncle's household.  After a long day of work and an evening with the girls, dinner comes at 10pm and unpeaceful quiet at midnight.  I sleep until 6am, when it's time to take the long commute into the city for work.  Both the lack of sleep and peace exhausts me and make each work day doubly frustrating.  As the week drew closer, I begged for repeats and offered to split the groceries and cleaning duties - to which she agrees and I am eternally grateful.  But right now, on the immediate Monday pending my commute back to McLean, VA, I dread the return and know that's not enough.  Perhaps it's that time of the month when my patience cuts short, but it's not enough to endure half the week at my uncle's place and recuperate in the second half at my friends' apartment.  I may have lasted the first week, but thus far I have no energy for this week.  I've confessed this to my mother and aunt, begging them to help me find another contact in the city since it was them who found me this uncle.  I can't spend very much at all on rent, and it's difficult to find much better than free rent at my uncle's, but I feel a change is necessary if I want a successful summer.

Whoa, it's been forever!

Hopkins Marine Station at the Monterey Stanford branch has been a blast, and it's almost over!  One terrible final to go, one rough final behind me, and a stats final to turn in.  It'll be ok.  I've got pictures.

And a Tumblr.

And a twitter.

The first thanks to a friend.  The second thanks to the Glee cast.  They're keeping their fans updated throughout their live tour, so even though I missed them in SJ a few weeks ago, I'm keeping up with all the fun as they travel across the country.  I love good fan service.

So this blog should be used for longer posts now that media can be kept to Tumblr, and social interactions to Twitter.  Did my life just get triply more complicated?