Not so long ago, I never imagined that one of my favorite places to go shopping would be the grocery. It makes sense, given my abundant love for food. But ever since Trader Joe's came into my life, going to the grocery is sometimes the highlight of my week. Every single time I go, I end up getting all sorts of delicious food I had no intention of getting upon walking in. That's how good it is. My love for Trader Joe's turned even nerdier upon discovering the youtube video about it, and now I may have trumped even that by buying this cookbook:

As if cookbooks didn't spark enough fantasizing, honestly, I'm practically drooling all over my keyboard just thinking about it.

I've spent the last week now without solid use of my left index finger. As I've previously noted, this is no small task. Tying my shoes, flossing my teeth, and typing are but a few of the things I do that demand use of said left index finger. I 've known for my whole life that, despite writing with my right hand, I'm not not right-hand dominant, but suddenly I'm aware of how much I use my left hand. On the plus side, it's been easier to adapt my typing skills than it was that one time when I broke my left middle finger. Naturally, despite the slowness there, I was able to send a constant "fuck you" to everything that caused me any discomfort or challenge, which is a huge benefit all its own. Even though I want to desperately, flipping anything off with my band-aided index finger leaves me feeling completely unsatisfied, and just thinking about that makes me all angry, fuck.

(1) I have to throw a shout out to all you awesome peeps who chimed in with advice for how to cool off last week. (Oh, and Matt, I totally ended up getting a squirt bottle. It's a fancy one that's a portable fan with a squrt bottle component, so in addition to the water I get a blast of cool air. It's the best, seriously.) In a nutshell, I've settled on two of these puppies, one for my living room and the other for my bedroom. I run them both on high power pretty much all day, and so far it's actually been quite an improvement. Score for Vornado.

(2) I probably would have written this post sooner, like sometime last week, only I got distracted and took a trip down to San Diego for a couple of days. In addition to working on my tan getting sun-burned at the beach (which was, naturally, a glorious experience), I got to hang out with the impossibly fabulous Tia and the witty and awesome Haligonian Ben (see, Ben? I learned!). We shopped til we dropped, I got new shoes, and judged people for what they were wearing. In other words, it was sheer greatness.

(3) Los Angeles is great right now. Way too hot, sure, but since I have new fans I can just sort of sit in front of them for an hour. There's really nothing quite like it. But really, what's making this place so awesome is that my partner is in town visiting, and ever since I picked him up at the airport on Saturday I've been walking on air. Even the traffic around here hasn't been so bad.

(4) I love having a pool fifteen feet from my front door. I've always loved it, but now it's great that I have a place to go cool off while my steamroom of a house gets the royal A/C treatment. But then I was in the pool tonight, racing the dog back and forth and feeling so confident that I could see all with my fancy little goggles that I didn't even see the stupid chlorine container floating right in front of me. Or should I say, in front of my racing freestyle stroke. My hand connected with that fucking asshole floating device and BAM, my left index finger is suddenly cut open and bleeding. I've sustained worse injuries from swimming before (like that one when I was 10 involving my ankles, a flip turn, and the pool ledge) but that doesn't mean I like typing without the use of all ten of my fingers. Blast.

There's something about sitting at home on a Saturday night, exhausted after a fit of sneezes brought on by your friend's cat who didn't trigger the allergies during the day so much as gift you some dander onto your shirt, that really makes you want to get all introspective. There's a good chance that that's why I've spent the last three hours sneezing and I only just realized that it was likely my damn shirt giving me grief. The other thought battling for attention, in addition to my sinuses, is the constant reminder that, no matter how much I like my humble little place, there's this one tiny problem of it not having any insulation. Well, except for the windows, but considering I tend to leave them open to some degree at all times during the day, that's doing fuck all¹ now, isn't it? See, the problem with this house is that its wooden walls have this special property trapping the outside weather right inside. This means that if it's 40 degrees outside, it's a bone-chilling 50 degrees inside. (On a side note, people from colder climates have scoffed at me for this assessment, and to them I have only this to say: so you enjoy walking around your house in your underwear when it's 48 degrees, do you? Yeah, didn't think so.)

When the weather is warmer, say 100 degrees, my house becomes a little oven and sits all day at 90 degrees. Or 95. Or 100. It just depends how hot it is outside. Given my past history of heat rash, first to the point of being within about 20 hours of having actual heat stroke, and subsequently recurrent bouts of it that like to revisit me every summer, I'm not exactly amused by the warmth of my house.

There's air conditioning, sure, but I'm sporting a medium-sized wall-mounted mother which sits in a corner of the living room and spouts air six feet up. It's amazing, it really cools down that solid five square foot area. I might add that that area is home to one bookshelf and one rocking chair, and an occasional me sitting in said chair. It's literally (and figuratively) the coolest spot in the house. And sure, the cool air kind of spreads to other parts of the house, but while that spot remains at 70 (that's the coldest I can get it), there's still a 5-10 degree variance everywhere else. Honestly, you wouldn't think it would be so hard to cool off 550 whole square feet.

I'm thinking I'll be going shopping to learn about some of my options, and maybe in the process I'll even find something handy and energy-efficient, too. I just want to cool off, that's all I want. Should you, dear reader, have any tips, ideas, or thoughts on how to chill out, do tell.

¹Please enjoy that clever little throwback to the genius that is Eddie Izzard.

The sun is setting on an otherwise normal day. A breeze trickles past, just light enough for you to feel your hair whisking slightly as it passes through it. It's six o'clock in the evening, and the day is winding down. On a street corner, there's a few people, less than a dozen, staring out at the passing traffic. Warm greetings are exchanged, but a sense of sadness hangs in the balance. A stronger sense has emerged, however. It is that of courage, and in that courage, a steadily growing conviction.

Looking out at the streets, you feel a stranger in this place. Why are you here? You've never been this vocal before. But then again, you've never felt so at ease with yourself inside, and in that ever-growing sense of self, you feel that this is right, and no place but this place is where you need to be. Voices can be heard from across the street, and green shirts, bandanas, headbands, and wristbands can be seen adorning the people who steadily begin to surround you. Your shirt is green, but not as green as you would have liked. Set against the others, you suspect that the teal shirt you're wearing is really more blue than it is green. Distraction. A large green sheet catches the southerly wind, and in moments, it's your hands holding this sheet, your feet keeping it steady on the ground. The sheet balloons and the accompanying sound, flap, flap, flap, battles for your ear's attention against the sound of fifty car engines surrounding the intersection.

The imposing image of a sea of cars greets you, and you're aware that in this covey of solidarity, you are different. You cannot hide this difference, and the energy surrounding you reassures you that it cares only that you are here, that you are standing for what is right. Horns begin honking, simple gestures that seem fleeting and almost futile, but are undeniably powerful. The honking of a car horn, you realize, is just another way to speak your mind, another way to find the words when always they seem so difficult to say.

A look behind you. Twenty people were present when you took hold of the large green sheet. There are at least fifty people now, eyes full of passion and determination. Up the short flight of stairs, more are descending to join you, and across the street, groups of three, four, five people continue to emerge. The blaring of car horns grows louder, steadier, until the noise subsides and becomes a symphony the likes of which you never imagined possible. The shouts of people in chorus with horns, flags waving in the wind, chants floating through the air, all sounding to the same impossibly beautiful tune. Peace.

More than one hundred people, you estimate, are sitting on the sidewalk, candles in hand, listening as someone speaks. We want peace. We do not want violence. We want freedom. Their words, even from only ten feet away, are barely audible over the sound of passersby honking their horns in support of the efforts of a mere handful of individuals, united as one.

Darkness encroaches, and you take comfort in the lack of light. Strangers approach, more open to you now, and eager to converse. A few question if you are Persian, saying they can't quite tell. When you say that no, you are not, they beam with pride and thank you for your support of their efforts, and of their country. Of course, you reply, and you in turn thank them for letting you share in this moment and be a part of their lives. You mention to one woman that you went to another rally last month, and that the energy and the overwhelming sense of humanity is inspiring. She meets your gaze and says I know, I, too, was there.

In this moment it becomes clear to you. You need not wear the exact same shade of green, for we all wear different shades of the same green. In your mind, you've known this all along, but to feel it, to truly feel it for all its worth, that is to own it.

Note: Wednesday night, June 24, 2009, will forever be unforgettable for me. A good friend invited me to join her at a rally for Iran, and I was excited to participate. The words above depict my own experience, but mine is hardly a unique one. I've long believed that we can make this world a better place by getting to know one another and by sharing our lives, our cultures, and our stories. This night further proved this to me when the woman told me that she, too, attended the Day of Decision protest of Proposition 8. We are all in this together.

To the people of Iran, and to their families and friends throughout the world, I have this to say: Know that an extraordinary number of people are supporting your peaceful and courageous efforts to seek change. On a single street corner in the valley of Los Angeles, I saw support from people whose origins span the entire globe. People from every walk of life imaginable driving Ferraris, sedans, SUVs, sports cars, semi-trucks, city buses, RVs, and motorcycles all honked as they went by. Folks waved the peace sign and gave thumbs up, and even children smiled and waved as they passed. The number of people watching and waiting, giving silent and desperate support, is staggering.

To the organizers of the rally I attended and to my Persian friends, old and new, I am so grateful for having been able to attend and be welcomed at this event. Thank you.

I'm guest posting over at The State That I Am In today. The lovely Erin is out of town and she, lord knows why, left her blog in my sadistic capable hands for the day. Now get over there and show us both some love!

I mentioned last week that I would be heading to an event in LA codenamed Drink Up Los Angeles. It was the brainchild of Leah, a long-time LA blogger who I've crushed on for quite some time. In total, I think around sixteen people showed up (including the always awesome Nicopolitan), some of them bloggers, some of them not, and some of them former bloggers.

Part of the fun of the night was ordering food from a computer (and then paying your bill from the computer), which you know, had my inner nerd satisfied. Plus, it was an interesting conversation piece. But easily the best part of the evening was meeting such cool people, all of whom were open, welcoming, and generally amazing in every sense of the word. It reminded me once again that the internet can be an amazing tool when it comes to meeting people you would otherwise probably never meet.

Arguably one of the best points of the evening, though, was that after the main uWink dinner, a bunch of us walked thirty feet and landed in a restaurant that turns into a karaoke bar at 11pm. History has taught us that I am a karaoke fool, and much singing commenced. The defining moment of said singing was when Leah requested we do a duet version of Love Will Keep Us Together. The picture you see at the top of this post was taken while we were singing Leah was singing and I was going insane since there was a microphone in front of me. It pretty much sums up, in one single moment in time, how much fun I was having. Seriously, I can't wait for the next one of these to roll around.

I received the following email this afternoon:

Hi! We noticed you haven't played Zombies in a while, and we're curious what we could do to make it better. Would you take just one minute to answer a few quick questions to help us improve? We'd love to hear any feedback or suggestions you have. Thanks for your help!

» Help us out now!

Thanks again, The Zombies team.

I didn't bother clicking the link to the survey, since I figured they might not like what I had to say. The reason I haven't played it in ages is because if there's anything that I hate in this world, it's third-party facebook applications. I think there's a total of maybe two useful ones (i.e. Networked Blogs and Lexulous), and I use them from time to time, but aside from that, I've deleted almost all of the very few applications I ever bothered to add. Which reminds me, this email must mean that I forgot to delete my "Zombies" application. Time to rectify that...

One of the greatest things about Los Angeles is the sheer diversity of the populace here. I've met and become friends with so many people from all over the world, and have learned so much about other cultures. As a result, I've found myself that much more interested in the world around me, and that much more concerned about what's going on in the world. I've been following the elections and subsequent protests in Iran and can only think that in it all, the voices that we need to hear most are the ones the news will never let anyone hear: the voice of the people themselves. Yesterday, TechCrunch reported that the Iranian government is currently blocking internet access to FriendFeed, which is hugely popular in Iran.

FriendFeed has been “almost completely blocked” in Iran, co-founder Bret Taylor tells us. You might not think this matters too much since FriendFeed is much smaller than Twitter (note: Twitter is not being blocked) in terms of users, but the service was hugely popular in Iran, Taylor says. In fact, Iran is one of the service’s most active countries, and it is the most active region as defined by comments per user per day, according to Taylor.

All this speaks to silencing the words of the people, so I am reposting here a first-person report from Iran about the election. Thanks to Seldo for bringing this to my attention. I wish all the best to Wilfried and his family.

The following is a rough conversation outline I just had with my uncle, who lives in Tehran. Sorry for the poor readability and grammar. My Farsi isn't the best, and his English isn't great either, so we had to make do. I haven't had time to proofread and clarify yet; just wanted to get this out there in its most raw form. Draw any conclusions you'd like.

Italics = me Rest = uncle

"Tell me whats going on with the election."

Basically, the Iranian people want the following:

1. Take steps towards democracy 2. Have good and free relations with entire world (incl US) 3. Seek peace, as we are people who want peace with neighboring countries 4. seek progress, for a better situation and position in the world 5. These are all aims which Mousavi, Rezaee, and Karroubi desire.

We are told by Mousavi, Rezaee, and Karroubi that they are going to govern peacefully, strive for good relationships with other countries, and bring peace to the country. They support progress, and want good relations with other nations, even Israel and the US. They'd also like to stop giving economic support to palestinian terrorists.

Those are their aims and promises. But then the election occurred.

- Nearly 50 mil people have voted - We are all sure that most of the votes have gone to Mousavi - We are sure he would win with more than 26+ million. - We found that Mr. Ahmadinejad had 6-7 million, but of course he is backed by the government and supreme leader. - In reality, it is its like a coup d'etat.

"Tell me about the protests"

- When people realized their vote hasnt counted, they reacted in good and democratic matter. They went out of the house and had respectful, peaceful gatherings in different streets in Tehran. All of these have been filmed and are on YouTube and Voice Of America (VOA). - The gatherings are going on and on. They don't seem to stop. - Of course, Ahmadinejad's supporters are also gathering. - Mousavi has planned a demonstration today (Monday) at 4-6pm in tehran, betwen Azadi street @ Revolution square. I believe they will have a speech about the events and future of these demonstrations.

"Have you seen the demonstrations personally?"

- Yes, I have seen them personally, but I didnt dare to go into them personally. There are too many army people [riot police] there. They are very rough in their actions.

"They are violent?"

- Thats right. They hit people with electric batons and tear gas. They want to make people fear them. - In Ekhbatan (south western Tehran, ~500k people), we see the demonstrations from the 9pm onward every night. People go outside and shout slogans like "we want our vote," "we want our president," "we don't want Ahmadinejad," "down with the dictator," and "down with Ahmadinejad". Also, I witnessed the army [riot police] attack some people and break into homes and break many street windows between 2AM and 3AM (both saturday and sunday night). - Now we are waiting for Monday's demonstrations, to see what happens.

"Just batons and tear gas, or guns too?"

- We heard shots fired, but have been told that people are not the targets, that they are shooting into the sky as warning. - We heard news from Shiraz that one univ. student was killed. I am going to look at other media to confirm because the state media filters everything.

"What do you think is going to happen?"

- I think this is the kind of reaction people have in such a situation. They have reached the conclusion that they can't live with this situation. They want their country to progress, be peaceful, have good relations with other countries, and not to interfere with internal relations of other countries (palestine, iraq, etc). We are serious about these things. We don't want to interfere. We need to have good relations with other countries. Until now we haven't had good relations with them. I voted for mr Mousavi. Those of us who voted for him want him to fulfill these objectives: good relations, stop economic support of terrorism, peace, and progress, both industrial and scientific proposals. These are the main things that these people want... and they are going to pursue their desires and needs. - At the present time, the people are going to hear from their leaders[/candidates]

"So you think theyre waiting for the leadership to define what the next few days or weeks are going to look like?"

- Yes exactly, absolutely, they are going to reveal their goals, and they want to have their elected candidate presented as the president of Iran, and I think we as the people of Iran will not stop pursuing that goal, having Mr Mousavi as president.

"Even if Mousavi becomes president, do you think the surpreme leader is going to allow change to happen?"

- Of course, we can't predict what will happen, but this process has already started. I think both the fate of this process will ultimately be democracy. I think people want democracy and are willing to sacrifice all their life and more. But I cannot predict what will happen. We don't know what will happen. But now we have been confronted with the situation that the Supreme Leader has very definitely interfered with the democratic vote of the people.

"Are you implying there may be some kind of change in the entire leadership of Iran?

- I cannot predict what will happen. This is a process that we have just begun. We have to let the process unfold. It may be that the Supreme Leader may bend to the will of the people. I think this is probable.

"You do think it is probable?"

- Yes, maybe, but not too much. Naybe 10 or 20%. This depends on the behavior of people, it is upon them to decide their own future and fate. But really the past history has shown us that this is very improbable. *laughs uncomfortably*"

"Some people here are concerned that the outcome may only strengthen the hardline/Surpreme Rulers' rule, and/or that Israel will try to take advantage of this."

- Thats right. I've heard that, and Ive heard that some people in Israel are very happy that Ahmadinejad has come back to power; maybe that gives them some reason to attack. The thing is, we dont want war. We want change. mr obama has stated the same. We want change, and we have demonstrated that we need and we want change to happen.

- Also, I wanted to add something else. I think our leader mr mousavi is against any violence, and I think they have selected kind of a policy that is very very similar to the policy of Mahatma Ghandi: the policy of anti-violence. Through this leadership he reached the desired outcome, as did Dr Martin Luther King in the United States. The same thing I see in Mr Obama, the same thing we see in Nelson Mandela. This will work, and we are with it. I think the demonstration of Mr Mousavi will be totally anti violence. All the intellectuals in Iran are for peace and want to stop interference in the other countries affairs. They have adopted the way of nonviolence, to keep going and to follow and to continue the process of this voting and this, to some extent, revolution.

"So you would think of this as an attempted revolution?"

- Yes, I think this is a step towards it

"One last thing - have you heard of the riot police being from Lebanon, or being Hezbollah?"

- Not yet. I have not heard anything about them bringing any Lebanese police. I doubt it, but I am going to ask those people in Khermanshah, and I will contact you.

"If you do hear anything about it, please let me know"

- I will tell you. - I want you, and all those that seek the truth, to please inform the people of the US and abroad, that this time the Iranian people want to have good relations with all countries and all poeple. This should be very clear for the American people, they shouldn't judge the Iranian people as terrorists, or those who want to are evil or corrupt. We will have democracy in all its objectives. - I will inform with you any news I have.

"Tashakor, Khali mamnoon" -Ghorbonet beram, khodafez

If you live in or around Los Angeles, definitely consider heading out to Hollywood tomorrow. Here's what you need to know: Drink Up Los Angeles is happening on Saturday, June 13 starting at 8pm at uWink.

uWink 6801 Hollywood Boulevard Los Angeles, California 90028

Come join us for a laid-back gathering and have a few drinks, alcohol or otherwise. This is not a marketing or networking event. Although some connections will inevitably be made in the natural course of things, please don't come with that intent. We are hoping to have a nice and easy hanging-out-type of night with friends, old and new.

The event was arranged by the fabulous Leah Peterson of Leah Peah fame.

Be there or be square.

As if it wasn't completely apparent from my plethora of rants on this website (read: the only four entries I wrote for the months of April and May combined), my spring semester of graduate school was about as much fun as shaking hands with Rush Limbaugh. School went from being a cool place to learn new things to being a place where gouging my eyes out with a melon baller seemed like better use of my time. Luckily, this summer I have only one class for summer school, and the absolute lack of stress from it is enough to add hopefully one or two years on to the ten years of my life the spring 2009 semester has no doubt cost me. One spring class remains for me to complete, though, an issue of contention that in a week or two I will be finally putting to rest. The side effect of this one extended class has been a surprisingly positive one, in the form of a classmate who's becoming quite a good friend.

We're in the same situation, she and I, and our recent evening of a five-hour study session has cemented our friendship. Without the pressure of attending this class every week, without the clamor of other classmates for grades and minute details whose relevance are lost even on the professor, and without the constant bombardment of the inexplicable notion that if we cannot do this, we have no business in the field, actual learning is taking place. We're able to move at our own pace and digest the information in ways that we can understand, and lo and behold, we're also prone to poke fun at the information we're studying, a sign that it is, in fact, something of interest to us.

We got rather carried away tonight when I realized that a certain bone in your nose sounds vaguely sexual. And while it's a full-on inside joke that I doubt any others might find funny, I'm still chuckling about the hilarity of someone rubbing up on your Vomer, and I'm pretty sure the mention of the Vomer as a salty midnight snack left the two of us useless for a good five minutes since we could barely breathe.

The point is, though, that my previous frustration with this material is dissipating, and a somewhat tepid enjoyment is beginning to take its place. I suppose we all learn in our own time, and the older I get, the more true that seems. I'm grateful for the second chance I've been given. I think I'll make it through all right after all.

While for some this weekend, the memorable quote of the Las Vegas blogger weekend was hater tots are good with mustard, my favorite moment involved one of my favorite bloggers saying "Thank you, thanks, thanks, thanks, thank you, pussy thank you!" and then almost falling over on the sidewalk as we were laughing too hard to stand upright. But seriously. I heard about Nicole's idea for a Vegas meet-up a while ago, and even talked about going. But it wasn't until sometime last week that I decided that I really was going to go. And even when I saw the skyline of the Strip looming ahead on my drive, it still hadn't hit me just what I was in for. Twenty-six bloggers gathering together for a $35 buffet was only the beginning. (Though that was the first and last time I'll pay that much for a buffet, it was definitely worth it, despite seeing things involving crab legs that may forever scar my poor, innocent eyes.)

Easily the best part of the trip, though, was this:

No matter what we were doing, be it eating at exorbitantly expensive buffets, scarfing gelato, enjoying happy hour drinks, watching that incredible fountain in front of the Bellagio, or walking the endless Las Vegas Blvd., it was being with a bunch of people I've only ever read before that made it worthwhile.

A huge thanks go to my friends from Vegas for putting me up for the weekend, and an equally huge thanks goes out to all the bloggers who made the weekend so unforgettable. Every single one of you is at least ten times cooler than I had ever imagined you would be, and that's not because I have low standards.

(P.S. Don't be surprised if Renee and I suddenly end up on Broadway together. We totally brought sexy back to the "Overture/All That Jazz" from Chicago. In the middle of the sidewalk next to the Bellagio fountain. Women and children and old men could not tear their eyes away from us, that's how epic it was.)

Robert spent the morning yesterday in the clinic for a quick, routine procedure. Luckily for him, it involved the use of drugs that induced short-term amnesia, so he doesn't really remember anything. Luckily for me, it involved the use of drugs that induced short-term amnesia, so I remember him not remembering anything. In case you haven't ever been around someone, especially your significant other, on these sorts of mind-altering drugs, you have much to look forward to. See, at first, everything seems fine and you don't even notice anything beyond a level of obvious sleepiness. You'll have conversations like this:

Phil: Hi honey, how're you feeling? Robert: Mm hmm. Phil: Are you hungry yet? Robert: Mm hmm. Phil: And...? Robert: Del Taco... sounds... good.

See? Perfectly normal conversation. Of course, that happened at 11:55am. Here's the conversation we had approximately fifteen minutes later:

Phil: So you still want to go to Del Taco for lunch? Robert: Del Taco? Phil: Yeah. Robert: Where did you get that idea? Phil: Well, from you, of course. You said so. Robert: No I didn't.

And so it goes. It's pretty much the funnest form of arguing anyone can get into, considering it's harmless and, in any event, the conversation will be forgotten within the hour anyway.

In all, I think Robert and I had the same five conversations yesterday about four or six times each. And while I found it rather endearing, Robert reached a point where he could read my face and know that we'd already had this discussion. Of course, that didn't stop the repeated conversation, since that memory is important. And while yes, it was fun while it lasted, I'm thrilled that today the drugs have finally worn off and he's back to his normal, spry self. I guess I'll just have to settle for telling him more stories about how out of it he was yesterday, and how much fun we had. I think I can live with that.

Like any self-respecting out-of-state graduate student, I celebrated the end of my rather hellish spring semester by jumping into my car and driving the 800 miles back home. And, like the glutton for punishment I've proven to be, I decided it would be a perfect opportunity to further my career goals by putting myself through a new certification process. All this leads me to the following revelation: I've been so absorbed in everything happening in my life that what normally distracts me has served only to make me want to spin around in ten circles and curl into a little ball to nap like some six-foot tall puppy. And make no mistake, I've already done just that.

With a little more sleep and a lot more sleep, I think I'll be on the road to being back to my old self. A few dozen more puppy naps and I'll be golden, right?

With the exception of typhoons, hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, flooding, landslides, avalanches, Ebola virus, and Sarah Palin, I've always wanted to experience every single natural disaster known to man. I've done the whole tornado thing a couple of times, I've done flash flooding more than I'd care to count, and heck, I've even done my fair share of not-so-naturally-caused fires. Upon my move to Los Angeles in January 2008, I was well aware that I was in the midst of earthquake territory. I'd hear tales of earthquakes past, and every time, I'd find myself wondering just what it would be like to feel the ground shaking beneath me. Literally every time I heard any mention of an earthquake, I would drop to the ground. Not out of fear or desire to protect myself, mind, but to feel as much as possible that shaking feeling far underground. When the mini-earthquake hit here last summer, I was out of town at the time. I must confess that while that was kind of a relief, there was a side of me that was all, "No Fair! I wanted to feel the earthquake!"

Cut to tonight. I'm standing in my apartment, and I'm looking at the carpet and wondering just what I stepped on that feels like a rock that--OH HOLY SHIT--that's moving! It hit me, at last, what all this means: experiencing an earthquake is the surest way to know that you've lived here. You can fill out those change of address forms, buy all the Hollywood t-shirts you want, walk the town and hit the beach every weekend, try to catch a glimpse of some celebrity's gaudy mansion, and be able to spot plastic surgery on someone's face from twenty feet away, but until you've really felt an earthquake, you haven't lived lived here.

People, it's official: On May 1, 2009, I felt my first earthquake. A 4.4 on the RIchter scale, five seconds of rumbling followed by another ten seconds of small tremors, and an epicenter surprisingly close to where I live. I'm checking that item off my to-do list now. Carry on.

It's a little-known fact that graduate students have a natural instinct to hibernate twice a year. Incidentally, the five weeks we crave the chance to shut out the world, curl up in a ball on the sofa, and catch up in one fell swoop on all the sleep we've lost over the last few months just happens to be when final exams roll around. It's unfortunate timing, because really, shouldn't all the work we've done up to this point merit a passing grade, a clap on the back, and a little sticker of a star that says "galactically good job!" on it to put on our hands? I mean, really. If I had to rate how much I love graduate school at the moment, I'd say it falls somewhere between that weird electronic band Eiffel 65 that no one remembers anymore (for good reason) and that shitty excuse of a movie for an already overplayed superhero franchise, Superman Returns. My plans for my upcoming weekend are pretty exciting: writing six papers. The only comfort I can find in this is that no matter how badly written any of my papers turn out to be, at least I'm not trying to rewrite and improve lines like "Oh noes, Kryptonite!" or something. Of course, whoever wrote that shit is no doubt swimming in money, so what do I know.

You should probably take note that neither of my above pop culture references are in any way with the times. Take this to mean that I've mentally checked out for the moment, as it were, as I've had no choice but to immerse myself in academics. I'll be drowning like this for only three more weeks before I'm vanquished once again. It can't come soon enough, honestly, but until that time comes, I'll be over here dreaming about how glorious it will be to not have to study constantly rather than actually getting any of my studying done. It's a worthy goal, to be sure.

Every once in a while, it really pays to be studying speech pathology. I was working on my homework and trying to understand the hilariously titled "mucosal wave" of the phonation process, so I decided to see if YouTube had any videos depicting the process. It didn't, exactly, but I was able to find some videos of vocal fold movement. I've seen these in class and whatnot, but what classes lack, of course, is the many joyous comments that can be found on YouTube. I found the following video to be fairly useful just for the visual.

Even when someone posts a video that's meant to be informative, and completely lacks controversy, I love that YouTubers find a way to insult each other and swear like sailors in the comments section.

Altairx86: what is that sticky stuff? whenever they close and open it looks like some sticky goo stuff shows up when they open ItsChocolateChip: It's called mucus, idiot.. Altairx86: how the fuck am I an idiot for asking a very legit and educational question? You learn new things by ASKING QUESTIONS and DOING THINGS. I'll just pretend the "idiot.." part is just a figment of my imagination, and replace it with "buddy". Yes, I like that. So thank you very much for your kind answer, "buddy". I'm glad we had this discussion :) ItsChocolateChip: Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid... Altairx86: Sorry, im not a kid. And also, why do you got to be negative? not even necessary dude. tighten up. either you have something decent to say or shut the fuck up BEFORE you speak. It's that simple, kid. birudagmawi1: both of you kids, shut up.

I totally want that to be the title of a book. It's Called Mucus, Idiot. And yes, I want both periods at the end of the title.

Last Friday, I did something I've never before done: jumped into my car and took a road trip up north to San Francisco. While the catalyst for the trip was that I had to visit a hospital for one of my classes, I ended up basically losing 20 lbs. by walking around the entire city for four days straight. Upon my arrival Friday evening, I drove around four blocks of downtown for more than hour, searching for the parking garage for my hostel and desperately wishing for the first time in my life that I had a catheter because holy fuck I had to pee.

Once my crisis was averted, though, and I had all my stuff piled into my room, I decided to walk around downtown. My original plans had fallen through, so I was on my own and I thought it'd be fun to explore the area a bit. Naturally, I walked the wrong direction, and thus wound up getting followed by approximately three different people in the same block. It was after I managed to shake off the third guy that I decided to duck into Walgreen's and pretend I was looking at hair care products.

It was then that I decided to text Ernie, who I had planned on meeting the next day sometime. (For whatever reason, my phone magically deleted my portion of the conversation. Hence, I had to paraphrase a bit.)

Phil: Walking around downtown SF. This place is crazy. Ernie: What? I thought you already had plans tonight...? Phil: I did, but they fell through. Wow, the bums here are relentless. I've been followed like three times already. Ernie: Are you on 6th street? That is the worst part of SF. Not a good impression. Phil: I'm hiding in Walgreen's at the moment. Ernie: Head over to my area - we will grab a bite to eat. Take the BART. Phil: Sounds awesome. On my way. Ernie: While heading over think of ideas for what you'd like to eat or what to do. Phil: So I got on at Powell and just stopped at Montgomery. Ernie: Get off, you're going the wrong way

I don't have what you'd call a stellar sense of direction. I even asked a bunch of people about which side of the tracks I needed to board the BART and still I went the wrong way. But I do have to say that Ernie confessed that my lousy, gay sense of direction made him type the fasted text message ever. Score one for personal bests! And score one for being the catalyst for said personal best? YES.

I'd say the night ended on a much better note than it started. I first met Ernie three years ago when I was but a wee blogger on Yahoo!360 (he worked on the 360 team), then I started reading Little.Yellow.Different. So I was naturally excited to meet him in person. We rocked the Mission and had deep conversations about hipsters, walked the Castro and talked nerd jive, and walked the park and made fun of high schoolers. Oh, and talked about hipsters.

All this to say that I owe Ernie major props for kicking off what turned out to be a really awesome trip. Thanks, Ernie!

It figures that the week before spring break, I wake up Saturday morning with a fucking cold. I suck at being sick, because I'm the kind of person who can effectively prolong the onset of a cold for a full week, month, or half a year before actually letting it take hold of me. It hit me last weekend when I was like, hell no I'm not going to be sick during my spring break. So I proceeded to let the damn cold run its course. At least, that's how it works in my mind. I've been lucky enough that it's been just a cold, I suppose, but that certainly hasn't stopped me from whining about it to everyone I know. The response is usually something like, "Yeah, I know, I've got the same thing." Dammit, I need some sympathy here.

It occurred to me after a few days, though, as I was snatching up yet another Kleenex tissue, that if I was someone who actually invested in stocks, Kimberly-Clark would probably be an excellent company in which to invest. Sure the economy blows right now, but a quick look at their stock price says that they're holding fairly steady around $46. Not too shabby at all.

And now, as I fish through yet another box of Kleenex tissues, I have a better idea. I think Kimberly-Clark should be invested in ME. I clearly play a vital role in the company's well-being, quite frankly, thus leaving me with the only fair question: How, Kimberly-Clark, can you stay in business without me? Exactly. You need me as much as I need you. As your newly appointed poster child, I would promote you on my blog, tell all my friends, and convince people that they should be using your products because they're the products least likely to leave you with the skin on your nose looking like a raw hamburger.

Ball's in your court, Kimberly-Clark. I'm waiting.

Ever have one of those moments when you step back for a moment and look at your life, and just for a moment, wonder what it's all about? I had one of those moments last night, when I went roller skating. Something about the way the little wheels moved beneath my feet, and the way the air rushed past my ears, made me realize that freedom is found not in lecture classes that last three hours, but on the skating rink floor. After watching all the roller skating stars, at least half of whom were over 40, as they jumped and twisted and skated with a skill the likes of which I've never before seen, I've decided to quit school and spend the time I'm normally in class to head to the rink and practice. I'll start as soon as the socket joints in my legs are reattached to my displaced hips and that one muscle that runs right along the underside of my right foot is back to normal.

I anticipate that by the time I reach at least semi-professional dance skater level, like the guy I talked to who was moon-walking in his quad skates (he skates every single day and even occasionally performs shows around LA; he also mentioned it's great exercise and helped him lose over 60 lbs; I'm sold) I figure at the very least I'll be able to join that "America's Best Dance Crew" competition by offering a new edge, and maybe eventually I'll even work toward making roller figure skating (with separate blade and quad categories) an official sport at the Summer Olympics.

At the very least, I'll be a hero in the eyes of some forlorn and very tired graduate student out there.

The amount of time I've been devoting to not blogging is pretty intense lately. The fault, naturally, lays in that pesky little thing called graduate school, which I hate to love and love to hate. It's been consuming a disproportionately obnoxious portion of my time these days, not to mention my neurons, so it came as no surprise to me when I read this article and was suddenly ready to take up arms in the fervor of revolution against textbooks. I even went so far as to add the link on Tumblr and title it Why Textbooks Blow. I KNOW. (Speaking of Tumblr, are you following me yet? Because you should be.) As a now-seasoned graduate student, this being my second year and all, I can safely say that the real goal here is to pass every class. The bar can become rather low, I've noticed, when it comes to having to take super-specialized classes that focus on tiny details for which only a handful of us students has any interest. Which leads me to my point: if you want to be actually learn anything, you'd best be able to joke about it.

In the midst of last Thursday's three-hour lecture, things were rather dull despite the fact that it's my favorite class this semester. I think even my professor was bored, because she was less animated than usual. I know this because her sarcasm was not up to par with previous weeks; a shame, really. But lo and behold, she managed to make things interesting by adding a sexy lilt to her words upon a shift in topics. "...Soooo, dysarthria."

I was instantly amused, and the following gmail chat suddenly took place between me and my friend Fiona:

Phil: way underused (and rightly so) pickup lines: "...So, dysarthria." Fiona: haha right? wow, you look HOT do you have dysarthria? Phil: have you been working out? I'm so inspired by your dysarthria.

That's as far as we were able to go in our oneupmanship, it was that good. And since I'm still chuckling about three days after the fact, that means that either it did the trick or I'm just a sad, pathetic soul.

(Oh, and before the politically correct and sensitive speech elite police attack me and crown me a complete asshole, I suppose I'll disclaim here by noting that this isn't meant to degrade or poke fun at anyone with this disorder. It's purely phonological entertainment, which is nerd linguistic speak for the fact that dysarthria is a damn funny sounding word. Seriously.)

A couple weeks ago, I spied my friend Rosa's new water bottle and gasped, sputtering out that I was wildly jealous of her and that I wanted one, too. She smiled and laughed and said "Oh Phil, you're so cute. They're from my friend's old clothing company, and I have more if you want one." Like she even had to ask. Then last week, she showed up to class and there it was, glowing in her hands. With the exception of the day I forgot it and almost died from separation anxiety, my new water bottle and I have been inseparable.

Most people get it, but every now and again someone completely misses the point. The point being, of course, why I love this water bottle more than life itself.

Brad Majors*: Is this your water bottle? Female Coworker: No. Brad: Oh. Whose is it? Phil: It's mine. Brad: Oh ok. You know what that word means, don't you? Phil: ... Brad: But it refers to a fancy woman. Really fancy, like. Phil: Uh, yeah I know. Phil: ... Phil: It's mine!

And when you take pictures of it, it really does lend itself to an almost angelic quality.

*The name Brad Majors shall heretofore refer to a straight man who happens to fall into conversation with me, whose name I opt not to identify. It shall serve as a generic name and be used for any person I see fit. For no real reason other than because I can.

My silence on the internet this past week has been due in large part to a very dear friend's recent loss. I've known her now for over three years, and in that time have come to cherish her friendship and love very much. I wrote this after finding it difficult to know, as a friend, what to say. It is for my dear friend that I dedicate this post, and will continue my week of silence in her and her loved ones' honor.

STILLNESS

Forever is something that never will be Lying on grass staring skyward Tears, they flow and do taste like the sea Endless is the span of horizon

Today is something that never will leave Running across open fields Strength, it beckons, need time just to breathe Majestic is the rise of the mountains

Pain is something felt only from love Diving head first in the ocean Wonder, the mind wants to always implore Peaceful is the cloud up on high

Yesterday is something to always remember Sitting calmly among gusty winds Sight, a face that follows you 'round Bright is the moon in the sky

Tomorrow is something only to ponder Raising arms to the heavens beyond Sound, a sweet voice that resonates thunder Stunning is the rainbow outside

Love is something to always hold onto Climbing up high in the trees Love, seems gone yet it's always right here Love is what you mean to me

Reason #492 why I'm a huge nerd: Due in large part to my ailing iBook G4, I took the plunge Saturday and got a new MacBook. I had carefully considered getting a smaller netbook, but after considerable research into netbooks (and Linux, naturally), I ended up deciding I still wanted a full-sized keyboard to go along with my laptop. I also wanted it to be fully functional so I could do website work and other projects with just as much ease as with my iMac. (This had nothing to do with Linux, and everything to do with the size of the screen.)

I'm thrilled with my new MacBook, and am finding it extremely powerful and an incredible asset creatively, especially with its snazzy new touchpad that can zoom, rotate, and navigate like I never imagined any trackpad ever could.

I brought El MacBook with me yesterday to work on a project for school.

Fellow Graduate Student L: Wow, nice computer! Phil: You're making me blush. FGS-L: It's so nice. Aren't you afraid even to touch it? Phil: Girl, are you kidding? I can barely keep my hands off it.

Those may or may not have been the actual words out of my mouth. The point is that this nerd love is the complete opposite of being afraid to touch it. Rather, I want to completely neglect everything I need to be doing in favor of finding out just how much this beast is capable of. Seriously.

Sometimes I forget that I wear glasses. Like when I'm walking and carrying my messenger bag plus an additional bag full of materials and papers for clinic plus a jacket in case it rains plus my empty lunch container, and then I try to set things down when I get to my car but realize I have to heft one bag around my body and over my head, and the next thing I know, my glasses get snagged on something that's theoretically impossible to get snagged on, and go flying off my face. In this case, they descended five or so feet and crashed down to the cement below. As they stand, both lenses have scratches and the right lens has a pretty large chunk missing from the bottom. And yet, even after it all, nothing about their appearance screams thug. Fuck.