"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!"

A whiff of pumpkin spice. A little bit of literal 'turkey talk'. A tiny snatch of a Christmas carol. It is that time of the year again. You hear/smell/taste/talk/breathe in the themes over and over and over again till it becomes the most irritating time of the year, with everything around you feeling cloyingly sweet. You even feel the guilty obligation to be nice to people you usually want to kick up the butt! The very air you inhale is fortified with sugar.

Wait... was that I who was just humming The Most Wonderful Time of the Year???

Until 2006, I hated it. I couldn't understand how people could listen to three solid months of Christmas caroling every year! I'm not sure I still do - but something might have changed at Summer Central this year. First I find myself getting wildly enticed with the mild fragrance of pumpkin spice floating down every corridor, then I find myself merrily carolling away under my breath... and the carols haven't even really started on the radio yet! What next? And, more importantly, why??

I don't know if it's the same with you, but I've always felt that my brain directly associates memories with smells and sounds. I guess the only reason why I haven't been able to take all the sugar before this is simply because there has been no memory to coincide with it. Whereas the average American probably laps it up every year simply because his/her brain automatically pulls up memories of all those wonderful Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas puddings eaten with family and loved ones around the large and heaped-up kitchen table. But, I've realized, starting this year, that I have made me a memory of something good that happened this time last year. Not something turkey- or Christmas pudding-related, but something wonderful nonetheless. Which is why, in the past few weeks, I seem to be naturally drawn into the vortex of unreasoning joy that heralds November each year.

My memories include not just several eventful meetings with the Head of Department and interviews with countless prospective advisors, but also trudging through limitless snow across campus and en route to the University of Chicago as well; sharing pastries with my lovely roommates in honor of "the big change" and, in the same bite, swapping "horror" stories about my previous advisor; several terrifying moments of not knowing where it was all going and how it would end, the only fact to sustain me being that I'd done the right thing for myself and for the four who mean the most to me; the final phone call from My Advisor announcing that the logistics were resolved and I could "re-start" my Ph.D. in the new lab; the promise of good change; the ten-day Christmas break where I got to try on some new clothes and the new and invaluable cloak of self-confidence; the brilliance of the snow rivalling, though not exceeding, the brilliance of new hopes and dreams. All these and more are the memories of the last twelve months that will be evoked by the strains of Twelve Days of Christmas, this year. All these and more are the thoughts that spur me on to work hard even if I feel a bit low or un-clever some day.

If one could be reborn during one's lifetime, wish me a Happy Birthday on the 1st of November from now on every year.

P.S. Written from the most appropriate place, my lab, at midnight on the 31st of October 2008.

"Bheja nu dahi"

Ever seen the slushy mucky snow that's all mixed with specks of dirt? The one that totally spoils your day if you so much as think of the possibility of stepping into it? (Not that the kind of weather that begets that kind of snow means a good day anyway, but you know what I mean.) Well, my brain seems to have turned into that. Don't ask me why. Don't ask me anything until Thanksgiving. If you do, I'm not responsible.

Time: Yesterday, past 6:00pm.
Place: My lab, my desk.
People: My colleagues S and G, and myself.
Who's where: I and S at my desk discussing something, G can be heard (although not seen) working on the system right outside the lab.

Me: We need reinforcements.... (calling out) G?
G: (still from outside the lab) Yes?
Me: Are you there?

S takes a look at me. I look back at her - and realize what I just did. In S's language I made the typical "attendance goof-up", i.e., The teacher in a classroom announcing, "Ok, all those absent today, put your hands up."

As I said, I'm not responsible.

P.S. The title translates to "(My) brain has morphed into yogurt."