The Truth Will Let You Bleed

I am thinking of covering Joy Division's "Atmosphere" with a battery of granulated-crushed guitars, gauzy white noise and feedback, buried spoken word vocals, and a sampled heartbeat drum loop.

Last night I sent out my first round of grad school applications. Harvard Systems Biology, Harvard Biophysics, Yale Biological and Biomedical Sciences, and Rockefeller University (they have only one Ph. D. program). There was nothing ceremonial about it. After reviewing everything, I took a shower, had a cup of cider (needs more ginger), and said, fuck it, these things are going out now. So they did. Nothing serious about the execution. Just click click, check the .pdf, click click. For all I know I sent them out with errors still in them, but at least I don't have to think about it anymore now. Next: MIT Computational and Systems Biology, UCSF Biophysics, University of Chicago Biophysics, UC Berkeley Biophysics, and Vanderbilt Chemical and Physical Biology.

Today I ran around all afternoon trying to track down Williamson and Garcia-Moreno, because they hadn't sent my recommendations yet, and they were due today. I guess you can't really blame me for being neurotic when the whole application process is like a black box wrapped in red tape.

It strikes me that if, by some unfortunate happenstance, I utterly fail to make it up to Boston next year (somewhere in my mind I've already decided that if I can go there next year, I will, though that might change), all the friendships I've built over the past four years may very well fall apart, leaving me to start from scratch. When I think about it, I'm notoriously bad at maintaining long-distance friendships: I only talk to one or two people from back in Minnesota; I went years without talking to my friends from middle school after I left Taiwan; and I only talk to a handful of people from Lawrenceville, with whom I parted ways not four years ago. The issue is really that I change too fast. Me in Taiwan, me in Jersey and me in Baltimore are three different people. It feels strange for me to talk to people I knew in a past life. So I always end up doing it less and less. I'll probably be unrecognizable a few years from now.

Everyone seems to be setting their sights on Boston--Sarah, Jessica, Thom--so if I do end up in Boston, there might still be some chance of retaining a fragment of who I am right now a few years down the line. But if I don't...I really don't know what's going to happen. Four years from now I could have dropped off the face of the Earth, for all intents and purposes. I just don't know.

But if the worst happens, if you no longer know who I am, at least remember who I used to be--if I cannot be requited for my love, at least let me be remembered for it! I sat down in the Hut and dialed in Radiohead's "Reminder" the other day and almost teared up. Don't know why.

Wanted to get some photos of the snow yesterday before it all melted away, so I headed to the underpass of the bridge that University West runs over, about a block from my apartment. There's plenty of graffiti under that bridge; I think I first found it coming back from one of the great summer soccer gatherings of 2006, but I don't think I've been back there since then. (Could it really have been over a year? Jesus. And only a block from my apartment, too.)





And just to spite certain people (Jess) who think grayscaling should be done on the camera, instead of post-shooting:


I really abuse the Saturation and Contrast sliders in Photoshop. But you really can't blame me if the camera refuses to see the world as vividly as I do. Either way, it was a nice contrast between the more or less intact snow covering and the unmistakably urban graffiti'd underpass. This couple walking a dog came by when I was halfway through, and I sort of retreated back onto the bridge; I'm very self-conscious about photographing things when other people can see me, unless it's something that lots of other people are photographing, e.g. a concert.

Afterwards, I went down to the med school to get some last-minute comments on my personal statement from Sarah. I have a more flexible schedule than she does, but I did wonder why I was bothering to do that. It turned out she did catch a few stylistic things that had eluded everyone else who'd read it thus far--Writing Center guy, Jess, my PI, my advisor. It made me feel a little bit dumb and ridiculous. In between nodding and "hm, yeah, I see, good point" I was thinking, shit, I'm really just a stupid college boy after all despite all my claims to the contrary, what the hell am I thinking, why do I even try, etc.

On the bus ride back I picked out a back seat and listened to the new Burial album with my face against the window. It was a disconnected sort of feeling: the music trying to carve out a wasted and dimly shimmering nightscape (with appreciable success, too) while well-dressed Hopkins students sat down next to me and chatted on their way to the Monument lighting. I think it might be time to realign my inner and outer worlds again; I had a nice synergy going there for a while, but I think the scales are starting to tilt too much to one side.

Speaking of the Monument lighting, I stopped by:




There was a guy on stilts trying to get people to sing carols for candy canes.



There were lots of people about. Most of them seemed to be well-to-do people from around Mount Vernon or thereabouts. A few of them booed when the mayor thanked BGE for sponsoring the event.



There was a small girl who said to her father after all was said and done, "make it go longer!" I smiled.

Today I walked into the Hut expecting a nap, but instead ran into Kushner and ended up having an hour-long conversation with Alia, whom I met during sophomore year but haven't spoken to in a year, while somewhat ignoring the regulars at the adjacent table (my bad). Impressive for someone whom I somehow met when she was drunk and nearly falling over at a party at Danielle and Katy's old digs. She had a surprising lot to say about living--philosophy majors can be really terrible conversationalists, but they can also be really excellent ones--and seems to live quite deliberately. Something I wish I myself would do more often.