43968 Blog Feed: Louise2008 2008-06-30 04:06:34 Louise2008 Your e-mail address 116490 2008-06-30 04:50:34
The lab I work in handles concentrated sulphuric acid on a daily basis, spinning down samples hydrolysed with said acid from 9am-5pm at least, sometimes overnight, in two ultracentrifuges. At the beginning of the project some months ago, an incident occurred with some centrifuge tubes and the sulphuric acid leaked out during an overnight spin. Following this, the centrifuge began to make a screeching sort of sound, gradually worsening over the next couple of months. Eventually, a technician was called out who advised that the centrifuge motor should be replaced due to extensive corrosion. He was shocked to find that the centrifuge was 3 months old due to the damage.

With this infomation, the PI decided to have us continue to use said centrifuge at the rate which it had been being used before - despite doubts put across by various other team members. We did as he said.

On the morning of the incident, the second ultracentrifuge (not the corroded one) began acting rather strangely, reporting non-existent imbalances. After fighting with it and finally getting it on, I noticed a distinct rattling noise inside, and on opening it up was met with a nasty smell of burning rubber. With the rotor removed, I discovered the remnants of elastic bands around the drum, and a piece of wire pulled out from the base of the drum resembling a spy camera - it was the sensor which detects imbalance, rotor speed, temperature etc. Turns out the PI had had a PhD student tie up makeshift centrifuge tubes with rubber bands the evening before, which had snapped during the spin, and had not been taken out properly. At this point, we were left with one working ultracentrifuge.

Thinking nothing else could go wrong, we transferred samples into the rather noisy corroded centrifuge, started the hour long spin, and left to grab a bite to eat. On returning 40 minutes later, my fellow lab assistant and I were met with a sound throughout the corridor containing our labs which can only be described as a couple of jet-planes landing very badly. We nervously entered the lab to find centrifuge number two jumping around the lab floor throwing bits of its underneath cabinet all over the place, and no electrics to stop it. Switching it off at the wall, we exited the lab, concerned that it might suddenly blow up, and waited for the noise to subside.

The lid had to be wrenched open, and inside we found a complete mess of shredded centrifuge innards, completely unrecognisable. A well and truly dead centrifuge.

As it turns out, the corroded motor had finally given in to the top speed spins and had completely sheared in half, sending the rotor flying around loosed within the machine, destroying everything in its path.

Meanwhile, the PI was hundreds of miles away waiting for the samples we were meant to be running to arrive for him to show to project funders/co-runners. It was up to the health and safety guy to call him and inform him of the destruction of two centrifuges in one day majorly down to things he had and hadn't done (namely centrifuging elastic bands and not replacing motors). I am not aware as of yet what the outcome of that phonecall was, but am fully expecting one of his well known (dreaded) project meetings tomorrow morning...
]]> 109151 2008-06-14 07:20:52
Cigarette butts and broken glass line the deep mahogany floor, swimming in the scent of rose wine as she sits rhythmically tapping her foot, laughing sarcastically. The music is loud and blaring, methodical repetitive dance beats fill the three-hundred year-old walls, seeping out through a vague crack around the exterior door into the crisp night air. I observe the time and lower the volume, only for the remote to be instantly pulled from my hand and the awful music restored to a higher level than it had been previously. She starts to dance whilst sitting there, lost in the beats, over-exaggeratingly simulating sex with her actions still continuing with the sarcastic laughter, singing lines of songs at me as if I am meant to get some sort of meaning from them. I don’t, and she shoves the table half way across the room with her feet sending further empty cans and glasses crashing to the floor. Frustration gets the better of me and I collect a dustpan and brush from the kitchen, glaring at her, probably inappropriately (I should accept these things). I push the table back, asking her to leave it, which is met with a barely coherent string of swear words as she once again propels the table in the direction of the television. I put down my glass of wine and replace it with juice – I suddenly don’t feel like drinking any more. Looking at the clock I notice it’s only been half an hour since the last time, and being only half past ten, I know the end isn’t near.

I try to ignore her but the arguments start. She doesn’t shout as such, just slightly raises her voice and speaks in a tone that portrays deep and intended nastiness. “You know what, you’re just a fucking stupid little…little…girl. You’re a child. You arsehole”. I stare at her. I haven’t spoken yet. “Fucking arsehole. You don’t care about me! You just go off to uni and come home and don’t even care about my course. All you ever talk about is uni. Fucking student. Arsehole.” She sneers sarcastically at me and turns the volume on the hi-fi up even louder as a song she likes comes on as she starts dancing again with a distinct ‘fuck you’ expression on her face. When the song ends, she changes the CD. It’s slower, more emotional. I can always tell what stage of wasted she is at by the music she plays and her body language. The slower stuff tells me she’s too far gone to even try and reason with her, and she certainly won’t stop and go to bed. She starts crying, says she misses her dad, says she’ll never stop drinking because of her dad and the guilt, even though I tell her every time it wasn’t her fault and she couldn’t have done anything to help him. I tell her that again, but she stares intently at the hi-fi, listening to the words. Her train of thought turns to me, and once again, like I have heard every time she is like this for the past year, she tells me it’s over, she doesn’t want me, she doesn’t care about me. She brings up money, and the fact that I’m a student, and that quickly turns to the ‘industry I’m involved in’ through being a science student and how bad a person I am to think that it’s ok to test on animals in some cases of scientific research. I manage, surprisingly, to curb that conversation before it really blows up. I didn’t feel like I could handle that tonight.

Again I ignore her, and she ignores me. We sit at opposite ends of the couch, but the distance between us feels like miles, not metres. After a while, a song comes on, and she starts singing to it, almost crying, and reaches her hand towards mine. I grab it and she squeezes me, still looking away as the song plays and she sings:

Come home, come home,
Cause I’ve been waiting for you
For so long, so long,
And right now there’s a war between the vanities
But all I see is you and me
The fight for you is all I’ve ever known
So come home

She looks at me, finally, tears streaming down her face, and now mine. I make eye contact but I can’t keep it. I don’t want her to watch me cry. I just listen to her “You need to get away from me. You should want to” she says quietly. I reply, speaking for the first time in hours ‘I don’t want to’. She raises her voice ‘but you should!”. I can’t control the frustration any longer “It’s not about what I should do it’s about what I want to do and I want to stay with you because I want to be with you”. “Whatever” she says. Within seconds, she’s sleeping. I sit for a while unable to move. I wish I could get through to her when she’s like this but in all the time I’ve known her and all the ways I’ve tried, I just don’t know how.

I put a cover over her, turn off the music, and go through to bed, hoping she won’t wake up. It’s easier if she doesn’t wake up, that way I can relax and sleep without the light constantly being turned on and the covers pulled off me as she shouts some random abuse at me. When she wakes up, she gets angry about me going to bed. If I fall asleep on the couch she’ll throw things at me, kick me, or shout at me. It’s like me sleeping is offensive to her. It usually goes along the lines of ‘you’re so fucking selfish, how can you be tired you don’t do fuck all! Well I’m seeing someone else anyway, did you get that? I’m seeing another girl, are you listening? I want you out my house, you’re gone girl. Go and find someone else who can put up with you, cause I don’t want you’.

The sheets are tucked tightly around the frame of the bed, acting as a sort of barrier between me and the outside world. A safe place of reflection. I think to myself how nice it would be if she didn’t drink; no uncertainty of what I would be coming home to, no spontaneous drink-fuelled insinuations and accusations when all I want to do is relax, no spiteful comments. Of course, she says it’s all an excuse. That me blaming her drinking is ‘an excuse’, and I am the real problem. Sometimes I believe that maybe I am, but other times I just think life would be so much easier if it didn’t revolve around how much alcohol was in the fridge, if she could take it or leave it like I can. We never argue when she’s sober, I like those nights.

For now, all I can do is wait for the morning. Wait for her apology and some excuse as to why she acted that way. Usually stress at work, issues about money, or her ex having been in touch. She’ll ask me to forgive her in the morning, not by words, but in her own little way she makes it clear it wasn’t meant. Until the next time.

]]> 94491 2008-05-08 05:18:17 I wonder why every time things seem to be getting back to normal, something else happens? Just the other day she and I were talking about looking at houses, going on holiday, marriage even, and I thought for once she was actually being serious. We spoke about things we were going to do in the summer and next year, and even when I finish University. I thought we were finally getting some level of normality back.

Then yesterday, she said she wants to finish it - well, she wants 'a break', which basically means I leave and let her do whatever the Hell she feels like until she decides she wants me back at home, which in her case will involve a lot of drinking, and a lot of shagging - which in my mind is cheating whether we're on a break or not (god I sound like Rachel from Friends).

I know that if I leave I will never go back, but I know even more that I don't want to leave at all. I don't really know what to do....

]]> 88471 2008-04-20 03:21:08 ]]> 88202 2008-04-19 07:16:20 I want her so much
She means more to me than I can express in words
But more and more I mess things up
And I don't know how to change
I want everything to be ok
But don't know how to make myself a better person
So that I'm someone she'll always want... ]]> 88176 2008-04-19 03:48:03 87539 2008-04-17 03:49:50
Your thoughts and feelings rotate in my mind – a mind as active and adept as your own -‘here comes the ghost again, to haunt me while I lie in bed. Go away, twisted demon! I’m tired of being in fear of you, quivering in my sheets, hoping you will go away.’

The adrenaline pumps through your veins as your nightmares return to you, you lock yourself in your room, waiting for me to come to you through the walls when in fact I am already there, lying beside you peacefully. Sometimes you feel my presence yet still cannot see, fear blinding you.

Why must I be cursed with this gift? If gifts are good then does pleasure equate pain? Is darkness and corruption a healing place? My purpose and goal is not to invoke fear, yet to become one with that which I used to be. To feel compassion, to feel worth.

Feel me - I love to touch you, my hands in yours and feel your flesh and bone; of course I touch, and brush your arm - if I don't touch, I'm alone. I love to listen, answer back and hear the echoes left; of course I listen, speak and hear. If I don't hear, I am deaf. I love to be, and sing, and touch, to laugh and love and give; of course I try to do these things. It's the only way I know I still live.

Yet ‘life’ is something I am not credited with, whether it be the case or not, for your fear of me overrides your susceptibility to read me, hear me, and listen to me. Why, purely for the fact that my mind and body have become separated, am I considered ultimately ‘dead’ when it is the mind which lives on and the mind which feels?

I don’t ask much, just please see the signs. I am not here to hurt, yet it hurts me to see your reaction to me – a spirit once loved, forced out because of a change in physical state – an unavoidable transformation. One which you, too, will endure – you too shall feel my pain in time.

How I long to find a gateway within you, an entrance to your soul through which I can show you I am still the same – I, a spirit, am merely a shadow, one in the same with my former past self yet without a body to prove myself. Does that mean that I am no longer worthy?

I watch you, yes, but without malicious intent; more with the memories, the fondness, and the feeling maintained from when I was ‘alive’. I watch you cry, and I touch you once again, wishing you would embrace me. Don’t be sad that I’m gone, for I am not, I am here – just unlock your heart to me and we will never be apart. I may not be present in body, but in mind I am right here – my spirit flies freely, I am not bound by nature’s laws, yet I cannot fight these innately human feelings.

What is it in your mind that forces you into believing that once a body dies the soul turns bad? That the figure you see in the hall or the signs you see in the stars, the objects mysteriously moved and the lights suddenly switched on are signs of evil involvement and danger? For twisted demon I am not.

The night we parted, I returned to your side, as I promised I would – I didn’t lie. My footsteps unheard, my words unsaid, eyes soft and inviting – living, but dead. I looked down at my hands, stroking your hair as you cried for me, my wish never heard, my heart quiet. I longed to be stronger, to turn back the clock. You lived , dead to silence, I died, dead to all.

That night I heard, but I was deaf, and I saw yet I was blind, not even apparent to your stubborn human mind. I wished you could see me, or just hear one word, but even as I choked back my ghostly tears no sound was made. I had gone, and although you hadn’t lost me, I had lost you. It happened so fast, and now all I stand for is a piece of the past. I only hope that one day the doors will open and the barrier will be broken.

You are never quite there when I feel you the most, though I stand ever watching; your guardian ghost.

]]> 87311 2008-04-16 15:17:04
'Please refrain from washing your feet in the sink. Showers are available on this campus. Please see reception for details'

Who in their right minds would wash their feet in a uni toilet sink??!! ]]> 85549 2008-04-11 07:19:21
I said I'd be ok, that I may not revert back to how I was if this all goes wrong, but I'm not too sure. I feel like I have invested my life in someone who was never sure whether or not they really wanted me yet neglected to inform me of that, and now not only is the decision of our future in her hands, the decision of my future is effectively in her hands as well.

It's easy for someone on the outside to observe and say 'You'll be fine', but from where I'm standing, it's not that easy. In a way, I can forgive her for anything she's done, but can she forgive me for forgiving her? That's a difficult question to answer, but with her it seems necessary to expect the unexpected in terms of response to difficult situations.

In short, because I don't feel like going over it in great length just now as that is hardly beneficial to my state of mind, if I lose her I lose everything. I will be completely alone, living god knows where, no-one to fall back on, no-one to run to. I won't be able to concentrate on my course; every day at that place would be a constant reminder of her because she is the reason I'm there, I couldn't cope with being there knowing she wouldn't be texting half way through a lecture, knowing she wouldn't be waiting at home for me, only buying food for one. I'll turn into that psycho I used to be, and that's no way to make friends. People will run a mile.

She and I need to move forward together. If we lose each other, neither of us will be able to move forward, and neither of us will be able to go back. We'd be stuck in our moment, with me not being able to see past the future I dream of with her. I could never erase that, nor would I want to. Whatever happens she'll always be there in the back of my mind, my reason for everything, no matter what. That scares me in a way. ]]> 85513 2008-04-11 02:02:00
I open my eyes
I try to see but I’m blinded by the white light
I can’t remember how
I can’t remember why
I’m lying here tonight

And I can’t stand the pain
And I can’t make it go away
No I can’t stand the pain

How could this happen to me
I made my mistakes
I’ve got no where to run
The night goes on
As I’m fading away
I’m sick of this life
I just wanna scream
How could this happen to me

Everybody’s screaming
I try to make a sound but no one hears me
I’m slipping off the edge
I’m hanging by a thread
I wanna start this over again

So I try to hold onto a time when nothing mattered
And I can’t explain what happened
And I can’t erase the things that I’ve done
No I can’t

How could this happen to me
I made my mistakes
I’ve got no where to run
The night goes on
As I’m fading away
I’m sick of this life
I just wanna scream
How could this happen to me

I don't want to lose her. I know it's a mess, that it's not right and that I have no idea how to fix it, but I can't and I won't give up. She says she gave up on me three months ago, all I can do is try and prove that she made a mistake, but how can I possibly do that when I've done just about everything I can over the past year or so to show her how much I care and how much I want to be with her? I feel trapped, like there's no way out of this situation. We can't talk because she won't talk, whenever I try to bring anything up it gets turned round on me, and then she gets angry with me, so I get frustrated and upset, I get irrational, and nothing happens. She says she can only talk when she's drunk but I want to talk when we're both sober so it's at least productive. I can't handle any more drunken arguments, and I certainly can't cope with her constantly telling me to leave whenever we talk, then taking it back after, it's too confusing. I feel like such a bad person at the moment for some reason, I just want everything to go back to how it used to be...


]]> 85138 2008-04-10 04:16:12
This particular morning my thoughts concentrated on last night. My partner and I are having some problems which seem to have come from nowhere in particular, and last night I heard that I was selfish, immature, arrogant, and condescending along with apparently not knowing how to ask a question without answering it in the same breath, and not knowing how to listen. Now,  I am a very reflective person naturally; I will listen to every word someone says to me and go over it over and over again, and am often too analytical. So I have naturally given this a lot of thought, and come to the conclusion that the person I believed I was is not the person who comes across to others. In my mind I am a caring, generous person. I will inconvenience myself no end to help someone out, and I always put what others want to do or how they feel before myself, however somehow that must come across selfish. I am confused though. I am honestly trying as hard as I can to be what everyone wants me to be yet I am not achieving that with anyone, in any area. I feel a bit useless right now. I am ok at little bits of everything but not good enough at anything so as not to cause problems. I need to change, but don't know how. I feel I am all I can be but if that is not enough, then I am obviously not :S ]]> 83953 2008-04-07 06:51:18
After fifteen minutes of unneccesary extra waiting, I was finally inside the boarding gate, where an instruction came over the tannoy for all passengers requiring assistance and passengers with small children to come forward for boarding. The same group of youths proceeded to vacate their seats and head towards the door to board. Either they were hallucinating the presence of a small child within their number, or they were surprisingly intelligent enough to recognise that they required assistance. Unfortunately for the rest of their flight companions, mental assistance is not exactly the speciality of Schiphol Airport employees. The flight attendants deserve a payrise for handling passengers - and sure enough, on take off, one of the same group decided to stand up and attempt to locate somthing from his back pack as the front wheel of the plane lifted off the ground. I will give them the benefit of the doubt and put it down to the hash. But that is being very generous... ]]>