Got up with a headache (that happens when you cry your eyes out the night before, whether you have a valid reason for it or not). Chatted a bit with the roommate in the bathroom, showered up, got dressed. Spent too much time staring at the news with my breakfast (like, I mean, wait, what?). Paid the bills. Eventually put my ass in motion and dragged it to the office.

Did a little bit of writing. Chatted idly with the French postdoc who just came back from a holiday during which he spent 2 days in my hometown. Talked with various people on instant messenger while catching up with my favorite publications (didn't have time to go around and browse Nature nor Science. Anything of interest there lately?) and doing some reading.

Wrote some code for the first time since December 17th (actually logged onto the servers for the first time since January 6th), which was nice. Got it to run, too, at that. Wrote many results down to make reviewers happy.

Read the Daily Kos 2010 Republican poll and twittered about it because, seriously? This is wrong. You have an educational problem on your hands, America. An ugly one.

Caught up with a labmate (mostly learned no results were in yet because he was in the hospital until 3 am with the guy who fractured his tibia playing soccer; already knew about the soccer accident and had already guessed about the consequences, so, very little added value except for the always appreciated social component^[1]).

Remembered to have lunch! At some point, glanced down to my pretty purple shoes and smiled.

Went to the baby shower organized downstairs for our financial analyst. Had a piece of cheesecake and some coffee. Had a typical conversation with Advisor and my labmates (phone plans, voip, iPad jokes, etc^[2].)

Starting writing a review for a relatively good (but somehow missing a very important — to my eyes — experimental part) paper, sent a few emails.

Went to a meeting to present a request for the (partial) funding of a dance party, said request wasn't put to vote because of ridiculous administrative shenanigans. Cursed internally, a lot, and asked for this hour and a half of my life back.

Went home, and here I am.

I have to go do the laundry now.

And make dinner. Dinner is good.

I wish I had more time to write.

Actually, I wish I had more time to write research papers and my dissertation. (Yesterday I was asked whether I had backups of my dissertation, and backups of the backups. My dissertation is three and a half pages long. I'm not very worried about losing them.)

Come to think of it, I wish I had more time to do basic things like, oh, I don't know, eating lunch. Or sleeping. Come to think of it, going to the bathroom whenever I feel like it would be a great improvement.

So, yeah, research.

And organizing a dance mixer.

And putting a swing dance club together.

Talking about putting things together, did you ever put a portable Marley floor together? Just think about 40 tiles of 2.5 foot by 2.5 foot, each of which weighing about 3 pounds. And having to lay them carefully next to each other and velcro them all together once you've carried them. And moved the tables and chair against the wall.

I solemnly announced it to my fellow swing dancers and will repeat here: never again.

Although it was worth it.

Except for the part towards the end of the evening when the elements started coming seriously apart and I tripped over. Don't trip while doing cross kicks, because your partner doesn't have a hold on you is all what I'm saying.

Anyway, great things happening.

I might even make it to the end of the week without strangling anybody. But more because I'll be too tired for it than because they won't deserve it.

Between me and my swing dance partner, the day after we both discovered West Coast Swing together (a sweet, sweet birthday present).

Me: "Dude. One could totally dance west coast to Ace of Base."

Him: "Ace of Base? You ARE old. Wait, are you texting me on a Friday night, when you know I'm with friends skiing, to tell me that?"

Me: "Can't help it if you're a kid. Like you don't enjoy telling your friends you're getting texts from the girl you held in your arms most of the evening yesterday."

Him: "I can't believe I actually missed you."

Me: "Good night, my dear. Enjoy some mulled wine for me."

Totally worth my money.

• Become a doctor
• Move back to Europe
• Do my best to be happy while doing so

I think that should be enough for a year. Optionally, I'd like to learn how to dance balboa.

A beautiful 2010 to all of you who read these pages. May it be filled with laughter, tenderness, and smiles.

He let me do it again. I did not even ask, he ran to me when I had no partner and told me to keep leading. In class, where the dance teacher was very impressed that a man who was just taking this little class (as opposed to aspiring to becoming a professional) would let a girl lead him and other people witness it. "Good follows make good leads", he told the both of us appreciatively.

Me? I'm waiting for him to ask another guy to lead him to be impressed.

Now I'll let you ponder why, at least in occidental cultures, guys are so afraid of touching each other even in a situation that's all about acting and performing, unless it involves fighting.