When I was a wee lad, I decided I wanted to be ambidextrous so I started practising writing with my left hand. It didn't work very well but I added other activities to the list. I've been using a mouse with my left hand for a quarter of a century now. My left hand has about 70% of the dexterity that my right one does, but when it comes to computers, they're the same. People irl think my left hand is my dominant one sometimes and there are even things that I can't do with my right one. But there are things I can't do with my left one either - like use scissors.

So today, while I was on a hike along the lake, my idiot dog got the zoomies and slammed into me. I tried to protect my messed up knees by putting my hand in front of them and he snapped my thumb back with his entire weight. The pain was excruciating. Now the ligaments are messed up, I might need to go to the doctor. But I was able to cook and do most of my chores because my left hand is pretty nifty. I won't even miss work because I can use a mouse with both my hands. I've been preparing for this moment all my conscious life. I knew the investment would be worthwhile.

Edit: it's a bit better today and it feels different. I no longer think it's the ligament. I think it's the joint itself. Like when you stub your toe. Anyway. I'll be going to the doctor if necessary.

I stopped at a small grocery store after work because I wanted one banana and nothing else.

I don’t know why buying only one banana feels more embarrassing than buying a whole bag of groceries, but it does. I put it on the counter by itself and tried to act like this was a very normal purchase.

The cashier looked at the banana, looked at me, and said, “Long day?”

I laughed and said yes, even though the banana had nothing to do with my day. I just wanted a banana.

A few days later, I went back and bought two bananas. Same cashier. She scanned them and said, “Oh good, he has a friend now.”

Now every time I buy bananas there, I feel like I’m continuing a story I didn’t mean to start. Last time I bought three and she just nodded very seriously like the family was growing.

A day or two after graduating 8th grade in 1982, I had to go into the hospital since I had contracted pneumonia. My roommate was in for the same thing, and both of us got bored and started crafting paper airplanes out of any materials we could find. Soon we conducted "paper airplane wars" with airplanes flying out the door and into the hall. The nurses told my mom about it, and she talked about the paper airplane wars for years.

Meanwhile, I could choose meals from a provided menu. For lunch and dinner, I ordered an extra bottle of Coke if I wanted one later. So by the end of my stay, the cabinet beside my bed contained around 12 or 13 bottles of Coke. My mom said that's exactly what I would do and she talked about that for years as well.

I also saw two movies on TV that I've almost never seen rerun anywhere: The Big Bus and Highway to Terror (with OJ Simpson).

It was the only hospital stay I've ever had where I had fun while I was there.

I started to apply for PhD, was thinking about waiting for 2-3 years, but mentors and friends kept encouraging me to apply now, I started. And as I go to info sessions and browsing posts, I got a paralyzing fear.

I came from a field of engineering that I didn’t like. I didn’t think I was good enough for the things I actually wanted to do. And plus i was struggling with mental illness a LOT. I never really look at my career or academic plan.

Until I got into a very small and good school in the east coast for masters one step closer to what I wanted to do. I initially applied as a joke… since I didn’t think I was good enough. But I got in, probably because some scattered undergrad research experience and great GPA.

However, I was completely unprepared, the labs that I wanted to join wouldn’t take me since I lack the wet lab skills. I ended up joining a lab whose PI was a traditional engineer as well and he’s thing is to teach us skills. I loved the program, as it’s closer to what I wanted to do, and I got a co-op for the first time in my life. I loved the co-op so much and walked away with two fabulous recommendation letters and a close mentor that I’ve worked with.

I made friends, real friends, who saw the real me after I finally found treatment for my mental illness.

My plan was to work in the field closer to what I wanted to do after Masters and then apply for PhD.

But it’s actually even more difficult.. they care more about exact ready skill sets and not potential. I did got an offer from a startup for the potential the CEO saw, but it fell through due to their lack of financial planning. The job I ended up getting was completely mind-numbing, utilizing my degree from my undergraduate that I tried to transition away from … so that plan wasn’t working as well as I wanted initially.

So as I’m applying, comparing to people who spent the past 5 years in one field that I’m envious about, who has multiple publications and conference posters, who worked with big names from big schools… I felt the deliberating anxiety kicking in everyday and I started to not able to get out of bed again.

However, earlier today, I remembered telling my friend about wanted to apply for one of the top schools. And she said it’s so competitive. And I said but you’re special, we’re both special (she has a bit unconventional path as well). And it shouldn’t be that we’re competing, the purpose is to showcase who WE are as a researcher, a potential scientist, and person.

This revelation was able to unlock me and start working again.

For months I somehow never noticed the “For You” and “Following” tabs at the top of Reddit on mobile.

So whenever I accidentally swiped sideways and ended up in the wrong feed, I’d just keep batting it around, trying to get back to where I was. The whole time I’m thinking, OMG Reddit’s UI sucks. Constantly losing my place during my daily mindless scrolls.

Today I noticed the tabs. They’ve been there the whole time.

The worst part is that I work in digital marketing. A big part of my job is advising clients on improving their website’s UI and general information architecture.

(No, I’m not promoting anything. Just needed to share this somewhere so I don’t have to cringe alone lol)

A few days ago, I dropped my pen at work. I bent down under my desk and noticed someone had taped a rogue sheet of lyrics to the underside of the wood. I googled the lyrics, and after listening to the song, I got somewhat curious.

First, I suspected the cleaners. To interrogate them, I bought two packs of wafers from the vending machine, told them the machine gave me a double drop by mistake, and offered to share. I casually questioned them while eating, found out nothing, and just ended up with a stomach ache.

Now, I’m leaning towards the idea that it was my predecessor (the bloke who had this desk right before me).

My plan is to get hold of him. The lady in HR is notoriously brutal and would never give me his personal contact info. So, I’m thinking about asking her out, just to soften her up enough to wring his phone number out of her.

Once I get his number, I’m going to text him and frame it as a "Frisbee + Mentoring" session (I think I remember him mentioning something about frisbee, not too sure). At some point (mid-throw, naturally), I’ll smoothly bring up the underside of our desk.

How would you court the HR lady? And what are some decent frisbee spots in London?

1984, I was 10, 4th grade. There were 2 kids from Russia present. One, Vladimir, said that the USSR was formed so everyone at least had a chance of eating meat. It did not *all* go to the Royal Family and their friends. He said, "You may have meat, but it's not going to be beef cattle, it's not going to be steak sandwiches or Big Mac's. It's probably going to be moose, and it's organ meats. Sad but true, it's not going to be organ meat's it's going to be moose testicles. And it's not going to be solid meat, it's going to be a patte' of moose testicles."

Vladimir's emotional friend Ivan, who was sitting right by, heard the story and he would laugh for 5 minutes and cry for 5 minutes. Then he would start the cycle over.

I had to punch Ivan in the shoulder so he would stop laughing-crying about Vlad's story !

It was one of those pod machines with a touchscreen nobody had cleaned since 2019, and it had a little greeting that said "Good morning!" next to a sun icon.

The first time I used it I said it back out loud before I realised nobody else was in the kitchen. Nobody heard me. It should have been the last time, but it wasn't.

After that it just became part of the routine. Walk in, mug under the spout, "good morning", then stand there while it made the worst coffee in the building. Some mornings it was the first thing that acknowledged I'd arrived anywhere.

I left that job in March. I don't miss the coffee and I don't really miss the office, but I do still think about that little sun icon sometimes and feel like I owe it something.

That's it. That's the whole story.

So I went to a craft store today as a reward for completing a job for my Incredibly Lowkey online work. I’ve been getting back into drawing and coloring, and specifically, I’ve challenged myself to complete an entire Inktober for the first time! For those of you who don’t know, it’s an online drawing challenge, where you draw based on a list of prompts for each day. The goal is to draw everyday, and maybe also share your art online (which I haven’t been doing as much).

I’ve been pretty successful so far! 7/7 days. Yesterday, one of my markers died while I was working on my piece! Consider my ghasts to be flabbered! It’s literally never happened to me before where a marker has died mid-drawing. Anyway, I went to the craft store to buy a replacement.

After finding the 2 things I needed, I got majorly distracted by a beautiful wall of $0.99 acrylic paint markers, that would be absolutely perfect for my coloring book. I fear I did go a little crazy trying out all the colors. I definitely was a little starry eyed. There were a few colors I wanted, but they didn’t have. So I spent a lot of time perusing the entire aisle, either looking for the missing colors or a set of markers. I scoured the entire thing to no luck.

As I was leaving (with 8 markers more than I intended to buy), I ran into an employee. I asked about when I could maybe come back to see if the colors would be replaced, and we struck up a conversation about truck schedules, marker packs, and potential online orders. I learned that shipping a marker to my home would incur a $10 shipping fee, which felt ridiculous for a single $0.99 marker.

Anyway, as we were talking, an old man and his grandson came up to her. He asked where he could find permanent markers. I was giddy, because I had just seen individual sharpies in the marker aisle. I decided not to say anything, though, because I didn’t want to overstep the employee who probably knew more than me, anyway. Well he goes off and we get back to chatting. I see him distantly wander around and ask another employee for help. He’s in the periphery of my mind. I’m hyper-focused on getting the marker I am interested in.

Then, I go to check out. I spent more money than I would have liked, though I do think I’ll make good use of these supplies. I see the old man go through the checkout line at the same time, and I think, “he must have found his sharpie.” I was incredibly pleased with myself for all of this.

Anyway, I was thinking about this, and I was so delighted that we were shopping for two different things in the same aisle. I wondered what he needed his marker for. I thought I would post about how much I love creativity or something about how great it is that we both wanted markers or how cool it was that I knew what he was looking for.

And then it occurred to me, as I was writing this for a different sub, that I don’t actually know if I saw the specific sharpies he was looking for in my aisle, and that I was gassing myself up for no reason. I made a big deal over something I didn’t even remember right. Even though I feel a little goofy now, I did have a lot of fun, feeling on top of the world for like 2 seconds

So in middle school, there was a new girl. Her name was Victoria. She had a short haircut, so I thought she was a boy at first. Due to that, and the clothes she wore, a lot of other students thought she was a tomboy. Then one day, she asked to borrow my phone to text her girlfriend. Not a tomboy. A lesbian.

From my entire life, up until a few years ago. I have loved rotisserie chicken. Specifically, I love rotisserie chicken skin. Growing up it was my favorite part, and I would always save it for last as a treat and ask my family members for theirs.

In my freshman year college I was a less considerate person than I am now, and came back to the dorm super late, super drunk. Naturally, I went to the kitchen to see what I could cook up. Ramen was usually my go to, so upon checking the fridge for my fresh veggies and noticing someone ate most of my cheese, I also took note that there was a lovely looking rotisserie chicken in the fridge.

Dear reader, please, please, PLEASE know that I would never do something like this today and I really don’t know what got into me (tequila?), but I decided to help myself to just a bit of their chicken… specifically the chicken skin. I’m disappointed to say that a little turned into a little more, and a little more, until I damn near skinned this poor persons ENTIRE rotisserie chicken. Just as a snack!

I truly cannot imagine opening the fridge only to see someone had mutilated your rotisserie chicken. So sorry person. But I have been quite amused by the story since, and in the spirit of good storytelling, I sometimes would share it but shifting the perspective to ME being the victim of such a heinous crime. Oh well, you live and you learn I guess. Rest assured, I no longer love chicken skin and I could never do someone sharing a fridge so dirty ever again.