Ne te quaesiveris extra

I just realized I hadn't updated my blog after the forecast of doom/gloom. That's ok, as no one reads this anymore.
So anyway:
This is a semi-public announcement that the liklihood stated in the below blog post was proven wrong. I passed my qualifying exam, thus admitting me to PhD candidacy. Unbelievable. (Reasons for this being unbelievable are touched on in the following and previous posts.)
After passing, I was relieved, but a bit perturbed because I didn't do as well as I should have. Ideally, it would have ended with my committee declaring that, had they been NIH, they would fund me immediately and without question. Unfortunately, it ended with them suggesting that I should probably learn the downstream pathways of the Insulin receptor. True, but not as glamorous.

The fact that I'm an advanced graduate student studying neuroscience seems to be in direct contradiction with the many basic bits of knowledge and skillsets that I lack. Following are some examples of things that do not befit a neuroscientist.

Things every 3rd grader has mastered, but I have not:

I cannot remember which months have 30 days, and which have 31. I have asked Brian to teach me this at least twice now. All I remember from his trick is that some of the months are on knuckles, and some in the valleys, but then you skip one in between...I don't know. Ask him about his complicated knuckle mnemonic.

Despite being an excellent speller, I still have to recite "i before e except after c" 80% of the time I am writing a word with the I/E vowel combination. Really, though- I'm in the top tier of spelling awesomeness. (Ignore typos here. Blogs do not count.)

I could not ride a bike until about 5 months ago. In case you were wondering, learning that skill is quite difficult for an adult. (Particularly so for an adult who has poor gross motor skills, and is a survivor of "floppy baby syndrome" (a.k.a. hypotonia). I have overcome.) Although I won't be racing any time soon, Brian says he will let me on the road once I can stand up and pedal. Not there yet. Still too wobbly. (I don't practice often.)

This deficiency was for many years a closely held secret, until I reached college and decided that it was kind of hilarious. College is a time when all the cool people become comfortable with who they are, and as such are able to laugh at themselves. People usually laugh along.**

I also preface the bike riding information with the fact that this is the only area in which my parents completely failed me. Way to go, Mom and Dad. I sometimes leave out the part where I ran directly into a cement post after Dad "let go" of the seat for the first time, thus nailing what I thought was the final nail in my bike-riding coffin. It should be noted that there was a wide expanse of street, sidewalk and grass surrounding that one post, but my bike was drawn directly into it.

I suspect magnetism, but whatever.


**All the uncool people think that the laughter surrounding said cool person's stories is directed at them, when, in fact, the cool people are laughing with the storyteller, and not at them. (This is indeed a direct reference to the least-cool person we know, in case family was amused and suspicious.)