Fraud days

Fraud day (noun) – A span of time equal to one full rotation of the earth wherein you reflect on your position in life and wonder how in the hell you got where you are. Usually happens to people, who by society’s standards, are successful. It is often accompanied by fear and panic that today is the day someone will figure out that you are perhaps under-qualified for your current status.

My lovely husband coined this term “fraud day.” The first time I ever heard him talk about said “fraud day” was a few days after he got a great job offer. He says that he has had them before, but that day was the first day I ever knew about it.

I, too, have these days, but didn’t have a name for them…and they also seem to occur more frequently. I have “fraud weeks” and “fraud months”, so in my case it actually makes more sense to talk about “candor days.” Wow, “candor days”, those must be good, right? Lately what I consider “candor days” are days where I realize that maybe I’m not cut out for research and should stop being a fraud, so no, that doesn’t feel so good.

Paying it forward

On Tuesdays and Thursday I take the express rush hour train from Philadelphia. It’s very crowded and my final destination is one of the most popular. Getting out of the parking lot is a nightmare. It’s a long skinny parking lot with only one lane to drive…a massive line of slow moving cars is what you get about 1 minute after the train’s arrival. It usually takes 10 minutes to get out of it. In order to get out, you have these options, listed in order of fastest to slowest

1) You can run like mad from the train and beat the rush out

2) You can walk from the train and be super aggressive to get out of your spot

3) You can walk from the train and wait until someone lets you out of your spot

4) You can walk from the train and sit in your car until everyone else has left

I go for Option 2, and I’m getting really good at it. However, I still have to wait in a long line of traffic. I get bored quickly, so I started playing a little game. Once I’m in the line of traffic, I let one Option 3 person out each day and note their reaction. Every time, they are so grateful and they wave and smile. Then because someone was good to them, they pass it on further down the line of traffic and let another Option 3 person out. It never fails. It really is beautiful.

Kittius P. Meowmerellington Q. Orbital

It has been almost a year since my beloved cat Shadow has died. I spent nearly 16 years with Shadow by my side, yet I can’t remember what his meow sounds like. I can picture his basic face shape, but in no detail. When I do look at a picture, it looks like a different cat than I remember. It’s very strange. I remember everything tactile…I can remember how his fur felt. I remember feeling the kink at the end of his tail. I can remember what it felt like putting my hand between his front legs and giving him a good rubdown. I remember exactly how it felt to pick him up. I remember his exact response to scratches under the chin and on his ears.

Why do the tactile memories stick with me but the other ones fade? Do I only love kitties because they are soft and fluffy?

tactile memory 1: rubdown

tactile memory 2: response