This is what the last 5 weeks have been like:
And then last night... and today...
OBAMA!!!!!!!!!
I'm sad to have missed all the street celebrations in the fabulous Bay Area, but we just kept yelling "OBAMAAAAA OBAMAAAA" randomly in the dorms last night, so that was good enough. And I think we're going out tonight to formally celebrate. I'm listening to Pulp (where the post title comes from, incidentally) and 1990s, who write some positively euphoric songs. The McCainiac among us pointed out that the markets haven't turned around since Obama was elected. Oh dear me goodness gosh -- nothing in the <24h since election results???! My my. Nothing could dampen my mood. Not stupid technology unsavvy professors, not lectures on ocean sediments, not even a likely to be boring field trip to examine what grows on pier pilings.
Not only are the election results most awesome, but it looks like the next 5 weeks here at the MBQ are going to be much better than the last. A new session has started, with two far more competent professors, two more helpful TAs, no night lectures, more field trips, only ONE project, no statistics, and... basically, it's great. I couldn't even begin to describe how busy I was in the last couple weeks, except to say that when it was all over I found it incredible that I even thought I was going to have time to spare during the quarter. Last night, though, we were positively bored. It was grating, but luxurious at the same time.
All I have left to say is: Prop 8 -- WTF???!?
10/23/2008
NtsFrmBdga: 30 second update
I have to go eat dinner SOON:
-Saw some humpback whales today, far offshore. Could really only see them breathing (probably a mother and a calf) and the occasional glint of a fluke as they dove.
-Saw some seals, chilling on the rocks near the research station. Apparently they're always there, so I'll have to go back and check them out more often.
-Project 1 Status: 90% Complete
(Done staring at fish breathe! Not quite done subjecting fish to lower dissolved oxygen concentrations -- or "gassing them" as we like to say. Oh no, it's cool. My groupmate is Jewish and he's the one that named our setup "Fishcowicz".)
-Project 2 Status: 15% Complete
(All that remains is tidepooling tidepooling tidepooling, which, thankfully, is fun.)
-Got to go tidepooling twice last week. It's fun! It doesn't quite make up for all the other non-fun we have here, but it's nice to have some respite.
-The weather's turned for the nicer, which is great, but watch it turn back to foggy and nasty just for our 5 days of tidepooling that includes our weekend. (I feel a song coming on...)
Stay sane! No wait -- that's my advice to myself.
-Saw some humpback whales today, far offshore. Could really only see them breathing (probably a mother and a calf) and the occasional glint of a fluke as they dove.
-Saw some seals, chilling on the rocks near the research station. Apparently they're always there, so I'll have to go back and check them out more often.
-Project 1 Status: 90% Complete
(Done staring at fish breathe! Not quite done subjecting fish to lower dissolved oxygen concentrations -- or "gassing them" as we like to say. Oh no, it's cool. My groupmate is Jewish and he's the one that named our setup "Fishcowicz".)
-Project 2 Status: 15% Complete
(All that remains is tidepooling tidepooling tidepooling, which, thankfully, is fun.)
-Got to go tidepooling twice last week. It's fun! It doesn't quite make up for all the other non-fun we have here, but it's nice to have some respite.
-The weather's turned for the nicer, which is great, but watch it turn back to foggy and nasty just for our 5 days of tidepooling that includes our weekend. (I feel a song coming on...)
Stay sane! No wait -- that's my advice to myself.
10/20/2008
Notes from Bodega: Studying for the Lab Exam
It's hell trying to keep the northern clingfish and the spotted kelpfish and the striped kelpfish and the kelp clingfish and the rockweed gunnel and the rock prickleback and the black pricleback and the black surfperch and the silver surfperch and the shiner surfperch and the surf smelt and the topsmelt and the jacksmelt and Embiotoca jacksoni straight. Them and about 40 other fish -- and I haven't even started on the sculpins* yet! This exam may have made me hate fish, but I will say I do still love to eat them.
*Corraline, scalyhead, smoothhead, bonehead, rosylip, wooly, mosshead, buffalo, silverspot, pacific staghorn, tidepool, fluffy (my favorite), and THE CABEZON.
*Corraline, scalyhead, smoothhead, bonehead, rosylip, wooly, mosshead, buffalo, silverspot, pacific staghorn, tidepool, fluffy (my favorite), and THE CABEZON.
10/16/2008
Notes from Bodega Bay: Part Hell
Bloody hell. This place is ridiculous. In the past week I've spent almost every waking moment studying, taken 2 final exams, written (yet another) project proposal, wading through journal papers, and preparing to set up and start our projects. Gahhh. If you can't tell, I'm not exactly loving this place. The weather has been incredibly nice in the last few days, gorgeous sunshine and temperate weather. I wish I had the time to enjoy it. The best part of my day is the my bike ride to the research station, seeing the waves roll into Horseshoe Cove, whatever color the ocean may be that day -- anywhere from grey to deep, deep blue, to light green. And then about 30 seconds later I lock my bike up outside the building and the long day begins, sometimes not ending until 10pm or later. Yesterday was slightly more interesting since we went tide pooling in the afternoon and got to chase fish out of algae with nets and put them in buckets. What wasn't fun was dissecting them later on and looking for parasites. Leeches, fine, they're on the outside and they wiggle, so they're easy to find (if not to get off the fish). What's way LESS fun is trying to find leeches on a fish that's still flopping and struggling for life, even though its spinal cord has been severed. What else isn't fun? Poring through a dissecting microscope searching for itty bitty (and I mean seriously tiny) trematodes, nematodes, and cestodes. That's right -- a real good ol' gol'danged worm hunt! Yeee haw!
I have got to get out of here.
I have got to get out of here.
10/09/2008
10/06/2008
Notes from Bodega: Part III
"The days are long, but the weeks are short."
Truer words were never spoken, as we have 3 lectures today, 3 tomorrow, and lots more coming up. That's the downside to having a heavily research-based program -- they have to smush all the material into the first few days. It makes every day drag on forever (hence our constant feelings of exhaustion), but already we can tell time's going to fly. Well, more in the "oh, crap, we have no time left to do our project/write-up/etc.!" than the "OMG this is SO much fun XD!!!1!" way. I'm trying to get myself in the mood for it all, repeating in my head that while this isn't turning out to be ideal (okay, so maybe playing with seals was never going to happen) I could be doing many worse things. And besides, I signed up for this so I might as well get as much out of it as I can. I may not want to do this, but lots of people have to do things they don't want to do in life, and at least I get to pick the things I don't want to do.
Apparently the weather this weekend was nice (it sure was at home!) but it's so foggy and grey today that it's difficult to tell where the ocean and sky connect. The research station's only about 50 yards from the sea cliffs, but the only difference that marks the ocean from the horizon are the small shadows caused by the wind rippling across the surface of the waves. Even the foam on the waves, which usually is so thick it looks like dry, cracked icing, seems to match the sky today.
We're just about to get down to the crunch on our project planning, right before we take our finals early next week, and in the midst of my birthday and leading our seminar discussion on Thursday ("Colour Vision in Coral Reef Fish"). I'd tell you what we're planning, but it's likely to change a thousand times before we finalize it, so I'll save us both the effort. I can tell you it will involve fish and physiology. Because the classes I'm taking are Field Biology of Marine Fishes and Ecological Physiology of Marine Parasites.
Truer words were never spoken, as we have 3 lectures today, 3 tomorrow, and lots more coming up. That's the downside to having a heavily research-based program -- they have to smush all the material into the first few days. It makes every day drag on forever (hence our constant feelings of exhaustion), but already we can tell time's going to fly. Well, more in the "oh, crap, we have no time left to do our project/write-up/etc.!" than the "OMG this is SO much fun XD!!!1!" way. I'm trying to get myself in the mood for it all, repeating in my head that while this isn't turning out to be ideal (okay, so maybe playing with seals was never going to happen) I could be doing many worse things. And besides, I signed up for this so I might as well get as much out of it as I can. I may not want to do this, but lots of people have to do things they don't want to do in life, and at least I get to pick the things I don't want to do.
Apparently the weather this weekend was nice (it sure was at home!) but it's so foggy and grey today that it's difficult to tell where the ocean and sky connect. The research station's only about 50 yards from the sea cliffs, but the only difference that marks the ocean from the horizon are the small shadows caused by the wind rippling across the surface of the waves. Even the foam on the waves, which usually is so thick it looks like dry, cracked icing, seems to match the sky today.
We're just about to get down to the crunch on our project planning, right before we take our finals early next week, and in the midst of my birthday and leading our seminar discussion on Thursday ("Colour Vision in Coral Reef Fish"). I'd tell you what we're planning, but it's likely to change a thousand times before we finalize it, so I'll save us both the effort. I can tell you it will involve fish and physiology. Because the classes I'm taking are Field Biology of Marine Fishes and Ecological Physiology of Marine Parasites.
10/03/2008
Notes from Bodega: Part II
There ain't a lot to do here, until you factor class in. Then there's no time to do anything. Today seems to be one of our more lax days, with lecture only from 9.30-11am and again from 1-3pm. That being said the rest of the time is spent poring over past student reports, trying to plan our projects, reading 5-8 textbook chapters (depending on your background in physiology -- mine is practically nil), studying preserved fish in the lab, reading and analyzing journal articles for our weekly seminars, and other such classy things. Most days, however, all I can manage is to stumble far enough into my room to collapse onto my bed for a quick pre-dinner nap, since our schedule usually runs 9.30am-12pm lecture/lab, 1-3.30pm lecture/lab, 6pm dinner, and 7.30/8-10pm field trip/seminar/lecture. Last night we had an 8-10pm seminar on the aforementioned journal articles, the night before we went seining for fish, and the previous two nights were labs and orientations of sorts. Mostly I'm just too tired or too stupefied from lecture to think about studying, so I try and recover during daylight hours and end up staying up till the wee hours of the night trying to read dense textbooks/journal articles/lab manuals. Sigh.
In other news... there is no other news. It's very pretty here, but that's not exactly a news flash every time I look out the window. I have seen a bunch of animals, though, ones even not related to our classes: lots of deer; quails scurrying around the brush outside the cafeteria; pelicans, egrets, other sorts of sea birds feeding in the bay around sunset; blue jays perched on branches by the roadside on my morning bike ride to the research station; wild turkeys pecking by the trees at the bottom of the road that leads up to the dorms; seals in Horseshoe Cove poking their heads out of the water at us in interest... we're inundated with nature here. Not that it's a bad thing -- it's very exciting for all us noobs and city people. I miss concrete and street lamps (there's one here) to an extent, although I imagine it wouldn't be so bad if I actually went into town. But that's 3 miles down the road, and I'm tired and busy. They call this Marine Biology boot camp, and boy, they weren't kidding.
I'm on a library computer right now (too lazy to haul my laptop to the lab), so I'll have to upload some of the pictures I've taken later, possibly while I'm home this weekend. I'll spare you the pictures of preserved fish I took from the lab.
In other news... there is no other news. It's very pretty here, but that's not exactly a news flash every time I look out the window. I have seen a bunch of animals, though, ones even not related to our classes: lots of deer; quails scurrying around the brush outside the cafeteria; pelicans, egrets, other sorts of sea birds feeding in the bay around sunset; blue jays perched on branches by the roadside on my morning bike ride to the research station; wild turkeys pecking by the trees at the bottom of the road that leads up to the dorms; seals in Horseshoe Cove poking their heads out of the water at us in interest... we're inundated with nature here. Not that it's a bad thing -- it's very exciting for all us noobs and city people. I miss concrete and street lamps (there's one here) to an extent, although I imagine it wouldn't be so bad if I actually went into town. But that's 3 miles down the road, and I'm tired and busy. They call this Marine Biology boot camp, and boy, they weren't kidding.
I'm on a library computer right now (too lazy to haul my laptop to the lab), so I'll have to upload some of the pictures I've taken later, possibly while I'm home this weekend. I'll spare you the pictures of preserved fish I took from the lab.
9/29/2008
Notes from Bodega Bay: Part I
“We’re so far away from everything!”
It’s the first day of our Marine Biology Quarter (MBQ) here in alternately sunny and foggy Bodega Bay. The housing isn’t quite what we’d hoped (no internet at the dorms) and we’re way way out on the UC Reserve on a spit of land far away from even the town of Bodega Bay itself (pop. 940), but the research building(s) are right on the coast, and there are deer napping right outside the library windows, so I guess you could say that it isn’t all bad. It seems to be one of those places where you just have to love being in natural surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, the landscape is beautiful out here, if in a bleak kind of way.
We had a couple of orientations about and around the facilities this morning, and unloaded the lab equipment from the vans after lunch, but aside from that we’re free until we meet up with the professors again at 7.30pm. One of our professors looks like Santa Claus, if Santa Claus were perhaps a grubby Vietnam vet. The other one wears his pants very high and has a slight stoop. They’ve been teaching together since 1982 apparently, and I have yet to figure out if this is a good thing or not.
Don’t get me wrong, this quarter will probably be a nice change for me – I am, after all, always complaining about Los Angeles. Still, while thoughts of daily runs along the bay and biking the 1.5 miles to class through pretty coastal scrubland sound idyllic at best, I already feel more isolated than peaceful.
I’m exhausted for no reason. The 5 hours on my new computer battery and the comfy chairs in the library tempt me to stay all afternoon and relax, just like the deer sitting in the scrub outside.
It’s the first day of our Marine Biology Quarter (MBQ) here in alternately sunny and foggy Bodega Bay. The housing isn’t quite what we’d hoped (no internet at the dorms) and we’re way way out on the UC Reserve on a spit of land far away from even the town of Bodega Bay itself (pop. 940), but the research building(s) are right on the coast, and there are deer napping right outside the library windows, so I guess you could say that it isn’t all bad. It seems to be one of those places where you just have to love being in natural surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, the landscape is beautiful out here, if in a bleak kind of way.
We had a couple of orientations about and around the facilities this morning, and unloaded the lab equipment from the vans after lunch, but aside from that we’re free until we meet up with the professors again at 7.30pm. One of our professors looks like Santa Claus, if Santa Claus were perhaps a grubby Vietnam vet. The other one wears his pants very high and has a slight stoop. They’ve been teaching together since 1982 apparently, and I have yet to figure out if this is a good thing or not.
Don’t get me wrong, this quarter will probably be a nice change for me – I am, after all, always complaining about Los Angeles. Still, while thoughts of daily runs along the bay and biking the 1.5 miles to class through pretty coastal scrubland sound idyllic at best, I already feel more isolated than peaceful.
I’m exhausted for no reason. The 5 hours on my new computer battery and the comfy chairs in the library tempt me to stay all afternoon and relax, just like the deer sitting in the scrub outside.
9/05/2008
Post-Thailand Post
I've just finished this ridiculously long post-program survey for the Thailand program (only 1 week late!), and although I was lovely and loquacious for most of it, I thought you all might enjoy the slightly tired, slightly snarky slide show I had to put together. The general theme was "Demonstrate, with photos or video, your Academic, Social, and Personal learning." Or something like that.
It's late and I'd go to bed but it's Thursday night in Westwood which means the drunk parade will be shouting outside my window for quite a bit longer. Just the other night some dumb people decided to have an impromptu late night bonfire, made of cardboard boxes and various pieces of discarded street furniture. I heard the strange noise through my open window, and deciding that it wasn't rain (too much of a point sound source) and not smelling the smoke yet I wondered, "Why the hell is someone rolling around in bubble wrap?!" such was the snap-crackle-pop of the event. Your mind makes strange conclusions too when it's tired, I'm sure. Eventually, though, the smoke drifted through the window, and I was reminded of Christmas and Wintery things while the firetrucks rolled up, bleeping and flashing their lights. Ah, the smell of summer, or at least stupidity.
I shall be quite glad to move out of the more populated side of Westwood, when that time comes in about a week. My other ongoing gripes about LA aside, it's noisy, dirty, and quite shoddy. Parking's a nightmare, homeless people rummage through the recycling bins, brown water comes out of our faucets in the morning, and we have cockroaches in our kitchen. Stylish student digs, indeed!
It's late and I'd go to bed but it's Thursday night in Westwood which means the drunk parade will be shouting outside my window for quite a bit longer. Just the other night some dumb people decided to have an impromptu late night bonfire, made of cardboard boxes and various pieces of discarded street furniture. I heard the strange noise through my open window, and deciding that it wasn't rain (too much of a point sound source) and not smelling the smoke yet I wondered, "Why the hell is someone rolling around in bubble wrap?!" such was the snap-crackle-pop of the event. Your mind makes strange conclusions too when it's tired, I'm sure. Eventually, though, the smoke drifted through the window, and I was reminded of Christmas and Wintery things while the firetrucks rolled up, bleeping and flashing their lights. Ah, the smell of summer, or at least stupidity.
I shall be quite glad to move out of the more populated side of Westwood, when that time comes in about a week. My other ongoing gripes about LA aside, it's noisy, dirty, and quite shoddy. Parking's a nightmare, homeless people rummage through the recycling bins, brown water comes out of our faucets in the morning, and we have cockroaches in our kitchen. Stylish student digs, indeed!
8/30/2008
Political/LA Times
I am so upset right now. Politically speaking, of course. This whole Sarah Palin thing is ridiculous, and I was, frankly, downright insulted when I heard she was McCain's VP pick. Not only does it seem like a rash, pandering, and cynical move, but I can just hear the pundits going, "But you said you wanted to vote for a woman, you know, break that glass ceiling! What?! I don't get it! What's wrong?" To which I can only reply, if you have to ask, you'll never know.
Fortunately, the people I admire over at Slog have neatly put my feelings on Sarah Palin into fully formed sentences. As has Samantha Bee over at the Daily Show (starting around 3:00, but I do recommend the rest of the video as well):
Away from the Republican side of things, at least Obama has responded to the Science Debate questionnaire. I am very pleased to see that his answers are not only intelligent and thoughtful, but demonstrate an understanding of the complexities of scientific issues. What utter, empty garbage that sentence is. Obama rocks my world because he listens to the current scientific literature and spells out concrete plans to fund more research and stop climate change. Hm, still full of weasel words. I've been watching too much internet (I don't do TV).
It seems now that McCain will also answer the questions, but hopefully both candidates will agree to the debate for which SciDebate2008 is calling. At last, as a science person (I don't think I'm officially "A Scientist" until I have my degree in hand), it feels nice to be pandered to.
Speaking of pandereing, since it's an election year it seems everybody's got a bit of Birthday Syndrome. What is this "Birthday Syndrome?" you ask. Well, let me take you back... way back... to a simpler time... your childhood: When you're a kid, what is the best day of the year? Christmas? No no -- your birthday. Because you get to be Queen (or King) for a day on your birthday. It's awesome! You get to eat whatever you want for breakfast, you get a cake, you get a party, you get lots of toys and shiny stuff, and best of all everyone has to be nice to you (not in the least because you got to bring cookies to class!). Your birthday's so great, you just wish it could last forever, or even just one more day would be nice. But it can't. Why? Because it's someone else's birthday. And the day after that it's someone else's, and then someone else's, and so on. For one day out of 365 you are the most important person in your world, which rocks, but face it, the other 364 aren't really that bad.
Birthday Syndrome, then, is the feeling that you deserve to have your birthday every day, the feeling that, even when it's someone else's 'turn', you still deserve to be the most important star in your little bubble. As for people outside your bubble, you don't even know they exist or care about them so long as they don't interfere with your birthday. Like I said, since it's an election year and the candidates have spent almost 18 months walking around, shaking hands and saying, "I care about YOU!", everyone wants a bit of the cake and pouts jealously when their persnickety demands ("I SAID I don't like crusts on my sandwich, MOM!") aren't promised to be fully met. I'm not going to name any names *COUGH*ReligiousRightEvangelicals*COUGH*, but I will say this to the party people attending the RNC: Can I have your sense of entitlement? Seriously. It seems to be doing wonders for you.
Anyway, they've got pretty good coverage over at my personal favorite, Slog, as well as perfect feminist analysis over at Jezebel. They're my political IVs that keep me going through the day until I can check out new episodes of The Daily Show or Campaign Update for a does of much needed comic relief. I can already feel myself entering political exhaustion... and it's not even November yet.
In other news, keep the music alive!
(I actually started this post a few days ago, and put this video in -- but after a few days hearing about the police crackdowns on protesters at the RNC it seems all the more scarily relevant.)
Enough with the politics... let's talk about parking. Right now I'm parking for free, theoretically, in Westwood. I'm not theoretically parking in Westwood -- I am parking in Westwood -- I'm theoretically parking for free. Well, free in terms of money, not free in terms of time and hassle, and as more people move back in to the neighborhood parking has gotten exponentially harder in the last week. In addition, I've racked up 2 infuriatingly dumb parking tickets in quick succession: once I was about 6 inches into the red zone (a very large red zone, I might add!), and the second was for being 7 minutes late (I kid you not) in moving my car from a 2-hour zone. Total: $115.
BAH!
Fortunately, the people I admire over at Slog have neatly put my feelings on Sarah Palin into fully formed sentences. As has Samantha Bee over at the Daily Show (starting around 3:00, but I do recommend the rest of the video as well):
Away from the Republican side of things, at least Obama has responded to the Science Debate questionnaire. I am very pleased to see that his answers are not only intelligent and thoughtful, but demonstrate an understanding of the complexities of scientific issues. What utter, empty garbage that sentence is. Obama rocks my world because he listens to the current scientific literature and spells out concrete plans to fund more research and stop climate change. Hm, still full of weasel words. I've been watching too much internet (I don't do TV).
It seems now that McCain will also answer the questions, but hopefully both candidates will agree to the debate for which SciDebate2008 is calling. At last, as a science person (I don't think I'm officially "A Scientist" until I have my degree in hand), it feels nice to be pandered to.
Speaking of pandereing, since it's an election year it seems everybody's got a bit of Birthday Syndrome. What is this "Birthday Syndrome?" you ask. Well, let me take you back... way back... to a simpler time... your childhood: When you're a kid, what is the best day of the year? Christmas? No no -- your birthday. Because you get to be Queen (or King) for a day on your birthday. It's awesome! You get to eat whatever you want for breakfast, you get a cake, you get a party, you get lots of toys and shiny stuff, and best of all everyone has to be nice to you (not in the least because you got to bring cookies to class!). Your birthday's so great, you just wish it could last forever, or even just one more day would be nice. But it can't. Why? Because it's someone else's birthday. And the day after that it's someone else's, and then someone else's, and so on. For one day out of 365 you are the most important person in your world, which rocks, but face it, the other 364 aren't really that bad.
Birthday Syndrome, then, is the feeling that you deserve to have your birthday every day, the feeling that, even when it's someone else's 'turn', you still deserve to be the most important star in your little bubble. As for people outside your bubble, you don't even know they exist or care about them so long as they don't interfere with your birthday. Like I said, since it's an election year and the candidates have spent almost 18 months walking around, shaking hands and saying, "I care about YOU!", everyone wants a bit of the cake and pouts jealously when their persnickety demands ("I SAID I don't like crusts on my sandwich, MOM!") aren't promised to be fully met. I'm not going to name any names *COUGH*ReligiousRightEvangelicals*COUGH*, but I will say this to the party people attending the RNC: Can I have your sense of entitlement? Seriously. It seems to be doing wonders for you.
Anyway, they've got pretty good coverage over at my personal favorite, Slog, as well as perfect feminist analysis over at Jezebel. They're my political IVs that keep me going through the day until I can check out new episodes of The Daily Show or Campaign Update for a does of much needed comic relief. I can already feel myself entering political exhaustion... and it's not even November yet.
In other news, keep the music alive!
(I actually started this post a few days ago, and put this video in -- but after a few days hearing about the police crackdowns on protesters at the RNC it seems all the more scarily relevant.)
Enough with the politics... let's talk about parking. Right now I'm parking for free, theoretically, in Westwood. I'm not theoretically parking in Westwood -- I am parking in Westwood -- I'm theoretically parking for free. Well, free in terms of money, not free in terms of time and hassle, and as more people move back in to the neighborhood parking has gotten exponentially harder in the last week. In addition, I've racked up 2 infuriatingly dumb parking tickets in quick succession: once I was about 6 inches into the red zone (a very large red zone, I might add!), and the second was for being 7 minutes late (I kid you not) in moving my car from a 2-hour zone. Total: $115.
BAH!
8/29/2008
Doctor, My Brain Hurts
I know I post haphazardly at best and this post does nothing to reverse the trend, but I just found out Sarah Palin is McCain's VP pick and ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
That's the kind of Palin I prefer.
Could you be more out of touch, and in so many ways? I can't even begin to describe... more (collected) thoughts later, after I've had some time to process.
That's the kind of Palin I prefer.
Could you be more out of touch, and in so many ways? I can't even begin to describe... more (collected) thoughts later, after I've had some time to process.
8/04/2008
7/25/2008
Deep Fried Farang
I wrote this in an e-mail to my parents, and thought it was a pretty good update. You, however, probably have absolutely no background in what's going on in my trip. After 3 weeks of meeting people, traveling to local villages, planting mangroves, leading conservation activities with school kids, making batiks and soap, talking to local village leaders and NGOs, it's time for our final projects with the program:
And that's all folks. I left my camera transfer cable in my room so you'll have to wait on the pictures. I'm not really committed to this blog thing right now. The internet is like drugs, the more you use it the more you want to use it. At the beginning of the trip I was getting away with checking e-mails every 4/5 days, and now it's back to almost every day again. Oh well. I'm keeping a good journal and I promise to fill you all in on the details.
We had our first full day of research today, and I'm exhausted. It's about 6.30pm and we've been up since 4.30am. We got to the market around 5 and hung out there and talked to vendors until about 10am. Then nap time. Lunch at 12.30 and a few more interviews with restaurant owners, a shopping break at the Friday evening market, and then more interviews. We quit around 5, but are going to try for a few more tonight, as well as translating a couple of menus that some of the restaurant owners gave us.
I guess I should probably explain the project. We're going to look at the impacts of tourism on Kura Buri, with a case study on the morning market food vendors. Based on the information we gather we're going to try and figure out ways to help (translating menus, Thai-English phrasebooks for the vendors, more marketing, etc.) and pass on our information to Andaman Discoveries, the organization we're working with in town.
I can't believe our trip is almost over, it's all gone so fast. I'm starting to get really excited about seeing Maisarah in Singapore, not only to see her but also because it's a city. Quaint small town life is nice for awhile, but I miss bright lights and mass transit and streets that drain properly in the rain. I keep wondering if I'd be cut out for working in a town like this (like for an NGO or something). Some days I think yes, others no. Today's in between. Everyone's so nice and flattered that we're interested in their businesses and that we're asking them questions -- we've received so much free food I've already eaten 3 times what I normally eat today -- but at the same time I'm tired of smiling and saying hello to everyone we pass on the street to make a good impression. I guess this city girl just needs some anonymity sometimes. And a decent record shop.
And that's all folks. I left my camera transfer cable in my room so you'll have to wait on the pictures. I'm not really committed to this blog thing right now. The internet is like drugs, the more you use it the more you want to use it. At the beginning of the trip I was getting away with checking e-mails every 4/5 days, and now it's back to almost every day again. Oh well. I'm keeping a good journal and I promise to fill you all in on the details.
7/20/2008
Mangrove pictures
I'm totally using you for other purposes. Check out our Wiki entries:
WikiBlog 1
WikiBlog 2
WikiBlog 3 (The best one!)
And our Official blog, which summarizes our wiki work. (Gotta make a showcase for the University somehow... yay internets.)
WikiBlog 1
WikiBlog 2
WikiBlog 3 (The best one!)
And our Official blog, which summarizes our wiki work. (Gotta make a showcase for the University somehow... yay internets.)
6/25/2008
Very tall, very white, very farang
So, um, I'm going to Thailand. I can't remember if I've told you or not. Have I? I'm sorry if I repeat myself, but I feel like I haven't said anything about it yet...
I'll be in Thailand for a month, taking a quick stop in Hong Kong beforehand and one in Singapore afterwards to visit friends. The whole deal is a UCLA program studying the ecology of the coastal mangrove ecosystems and looking at how the gender dynamic in various local communities (Thai Buddhist, Thai Muslim, Burmese Immigrant, etc.) plays a role in how the different groups decide to manage their natural resources. It's a mouthful, but it sounds fascinating -- to me at least.
At any rate I leave, well, tomorrow. Tomorrow to LA, Thursday to Hong Kong, and from there Southeast Asia awaits to be conquered by my blondeness. Attack of the uber-farang! I expect to stand out no less than I already do around the science/engineering buildings at UCLA, and much more than a sore thumb.
I'd promise to blog daily while I'm there, but I don't want to get your hopes up. We're going to have 'regular, but not daily' access to a computer lab, so I shall write when I can. Also, I'm going to keep an old fashioned blog, a.k.a. diary, while I'm there, so I may just update you with choice passages from that when I return.
And, lastly, because the BBC is great: Thai puppets under threat
Well, see ya later.
I'll be in Thailand for a month, taking a quick stop in Hong Kong beforehand and one in Singapore afterwards to visit friends. The whole deal is a UCLA program studying the ecology of the coastal mangrove ecosystems and looking at how the gender dynamic in various local communities (Thai Buddhist, Thai Muslim, Burmese Immigrant, etc.) plays a role in how the different groups decide to manage their natural resources. It's a mouthful, but it sounds fascinating -- to me at least.
At any rate I leave, well, tomorrow. Tomorrow to LA, Thursday to Hong Kong, and from there Southeast Asia awaits to be conquered by my blondeness. Attack of the uber-farang! I expect to stand out no less than I already do around the science/engineering buildings at UCLA, and much more than a sore thumb.
I'd promise to blog daily while I'm there, but I don't want to get your hopes up. We're going to have 'regular, but not daily' access to a computer lab, so I shall write when I can. Also, I'm going to keep an old fashioned blog, a.k.a. diary, while I'm there, so I may just update you with choice passages from that when I return.
And, lastly, because the BBC is great: Thai puppets under threat
Well, see ya later.
6/21/2008
Es-ca-pay L-A
Today is the longest day of the year, and I really feel like it's summer. I'm wearing cut-off jean shorts and my feet are dirty. I've been tromping around hills and eaten Cracker Jacks. Plus, it's bloody hot, which is unusual for the Bay Area. yes, I've made it away from Los Angeles at last, just in time to fry at home for a week. I actually escaped LA without much traffic hassle, even though I left at 4pm, which just goes to show how many more people want to get the F out for the weekend.
Bad times: a girl touched me on the subway today. I'm holding on to a pole on the Bart and she just comes up and leans her whole body on the pole, including my hand. Argh, what are the rules of the subway?! Do we need to review?!
Rule Number 1: Do not look at anyone!
Rule Number 2: Do not touch anyone!
Rule Number 3: Do not talk to anyone! (Unless you already know them.)
Amateur! Driving offers its share of woeful tales, but public transportation is whole 'nother barrel of beans -- I must admit it makes for some of the best people watching ever.
But on a more positive note about public transit, I'll share a (semi)bus story from Los Angeles: It's amazing the people you meet on the bus -- or rather, about the bus. I went to go see The Wombats at The Roxy (which is a lovely venue, btw) a couple of Fridays ago and afterwards ended up chatting to a couple of lads at the bar. As the venue closed they invited me to go to the bar next door, which I declined, saying I had a bus to catch. Cue much excitement as we all realized we'd ridden the bus there in the first place. They informed me that the night buses ran every hour and would be easy to take home, so to the bar I went. Fast forward a few hours and we're standing outside of Rainbow's on Sunset: I'm now 'sort of' joined a band; we've seen Dennis Rodman (not that I care or even recognized him); I've met a fellow Campbell who insists we must be related (yet didn't seem to pick up on my "Hm! We're related? WOW it must creepy flirting with me then!" vibes); and we're talking to the bassist and drummer from The Wombats. Great things happen when you use public transportation. Great? Well, entertaining to say the least.
And, furthermore on the topic of driving, well said.
Bad times: a girl touched me on the subway today. I'm holding on to a pole on the Bart and she just comes up and leans her whole body on the pole, including my hand. Argh, what are the rules of the subway?! Do we need to review?!
Rule Number 1: Do not look at anyone!
Rule Number 2: Do not touch anyone!
Rule Number 3: Do not talk to anyone! (Unless you already know them.)
Amateur! Driving offers its share of woeful tales, but public transportation is whole 'nother barrel of beans -- I must admit it makes for some of the best people watching ever.
But on a more positive note about public transit, I'll share a (semi)bus story from Los Angeles: It's amazing the people you meet on the bus -- or rather, about the bus. I went to go see The Wombats at The Roxy (which is a lovely venue, btw) a couple of Fridays ago and afterwards ended up chatting to a couple of lads at the bar. As the venue closed they invited me to go to the bar next door, which I declined, saying I had a bus to catch. Cue much excitement as we all realized we'd ridden the bus there in the first place. They informed me that the night buses ran every hour and would be easy to take home, so to the bar I went. Fast forward a few hours and we're standing outside of Rainbow's on Sunset: I'm now 'sort of' joined a band; we've seen Dennis Rodman (not that I care or even recognized him); I've met a fellow Campbell who insists we must be related (yet didn't seem to pick up on my "Hm! We're related? WOW it must creepy flirting with me then!" vibes); and we're talking to the bassist and drummer from The Wombats. Great things happen when you use public transportation. Great? Well, entertaining to say the least.
And, furthermore on the topic of driving, well said.
6/07/2008
The Political Climate
I really love this, from the lovely people at The Stranger:
However, I also think Hillary rocks.
And now, for something completely different:
(I <3 The Stranger.) Go, Sandra Day!
As you can tell, I've not got much to say as of late. That may change sometime after finals.
However, I also think Hillary rocks.
And now, for something completely different:
(I <3 The Stranger.) Go, Sandra Day!
As you can tell, I've not got much to say as of late. That may change sometime after finals.
5/23/2008
More Reasons I Miss Britain
Accents. Music. And 'the only other band from Liverpool that really matters.'
And I have no idea who this man is:
And clearly this is exactly what I'm doing right now:
And at last, it's on the record on the BBC that the subway in Los Angeles doesn't actually go anywhere useful (although traffic is as bad as ever.)
And I have no idea who this man is:
And clearly this is exactly what I'm doing right now:
And at last, it's on the record on the BBC that the subway in Los Angeles doesn't actually go anywhere useful (although traffic is as bad as ever.)
5/22/2008
The Masterplan
I can't wait to go back to Britain. I'm not quite sure why.
Wait, what am I saying? Because I clearly find things like the above photo and this hilarious.
Wait, what am I saying? Because I clearly find things like the above photo and this hilarious.
5/19/2008
Need a job?
I saw this classified in the Daily Bruin:
So... are you qualified?
Model, acting, ESL, Computer instructor
Receptionist, SEVIS
Magazine editing, studio photographer
Russian, Norwegian, Chinese Translator
Attorney, Family Law, Paralegal, Copyright
Private investigation, Dean of law school
Nursing professor, Dental assistant
Part or full time
So... are you qualified?
5/09/2008
No More Booty
I have a cold, my legs are sun burnt, and I've been stuck in a lot of traffic recently. So things could be better. I am, however, also out of my orthopedic boot and able to walk in regular shoes again, so things could be worse. A friend's boyfriend put it well, saying, "Recovery is a pain, because it takes so long. Once it's over, you'll look back and it'll seem like it all went by so fast, but right now you have to suffer." Too true, although I suffer a lot less without my crutches and boot. One plus side to crutches: ease in avoiding flyerers. "Awww, no hands to take one... how about I stick it in your bag?" an intrepid fellow asked me once. "No, that would be creepy," I retorted, clopping past without pause.
Anyway, on to what I love to complain about, traffic and driving in LA. A couple of recent anecdotes for you: I drove a friend visiting from out of town to Six Flags Magic Mountain (about 30 miles North) out of the kindness of my heart, and on the way back (because I'm a dip sometimes -- I have my brunette moments) I missed the 405 turnoff from the 5. Because everything in the valley looks the same and I hadn't had my tea that morning, I just kept on trucking along until I ran into the 10. (For those of you unfamiliar with LA traffic, that's about 12 miles East of where I was supposed to be.) Needless to say, hitting the 10 first confused, then shocked me, enough so that I promptly went the wrong way on the 10, tried to correct my error, and ended up hopelessly tangled in the freeway mess that is Downtown LA. (Also in my defense, the signs merely said "10/exit only" and did not specify "San Bernadino" until you were well committed to the off-ramp.) I was hopelessly trapped, and worse, unable to remember the right combination of freeways that would unlock my route home ('The 101N to 110S to 10W? No... 110N to 101S? 5S to 110S to 101N?'). Not wanting to end up on my way to Long Beach, I took the upcoming exit for Wilshire Boulevard, and limped home on city streets, seething, and with wounded pride. I am afraid that Los Angeles has won this battle.
Second anecdote:
Everyone who knows me here in LA is, I'm sure, tired of me saying this, but I'm going to do it again because I'm thick-headed and I like the sound of my own voice (typing?):
Being able to drive again is definitely a mixed blessing.
However, here's something that makes everything ok:
Anyway, on to what I love to complain about, traffic and driving in LA. A couple of recent anecdotes for you: I drove a friend visiting from out of town to Six Flags Magic Mountain (about 30 miles North) out of the kindness of my heart, and on the way back (because I'm a dip sometimes -- I have my brunette moments) I missed the 405 turnoff from the 5. Because everything in the valley looks the same and I hadn't had my tea that morning, I just kept on trucking along until I ran into the 10. (For those of you unfamiliar with LA traffic, that's about 12 miles East of where I was supposed to be.) Needless to say, hitting the 10 first confused, then shocked me, enough so that I promptly went the wrong way on the 10, tried to correct my error, and ended up hopelessly tangled in the freeway mess that is Downtown LA. (Also in my defense, the signs merely said "10/exit only" and did not specify "San Bernadino" until you were well committed to the off-ramp.) I was hopelessly trapped, and worse, unable to remember the right combination of freeways that would unlock my route home ('The 101N to 110S to 10W? No... 110N to 101S? 5S to 110S to 101N?'). Not wanting to end up on my way to Long Beach, I took the upcoming exit for Wilshire Boulevard, and limped home on city streets, seething, and with wounded pride. I am afraid that Los Angeles has won this battle.
Second anecdote:
Everyone who knows me here in LA is, I'm sure, tired of me saying this, but I'm going to do it again because I'm thick-headed and I like the sound of my own voice (typing?):
As bad as driving is in LA, parking is worse.It's basically my core philosophy about this town -- if you think this is bad, wait till we get there and they empty your wallet at valet. Anyway, having a few errands to run down in Westwood Village and a cranky Achilles tendon, I decided to drive the normally easy walk down there since I know a couple of parking lots that offer validation deals with nearby businesses, making parking essentially free. (On an environmentally friendly note, I did pick up a couple of friends who had to run some errands too, and gave them a ride down. Hooray carpooling -- now where's my medal?) Aside from the character profiles I could draw you of the perfect LA stereotypes I saw on my trip (that's a whole 'nother post, really), it was uneventful until I tried to leave the Rite Aid parking lot. The deal was, you pay $5, take a parking ticket, get it validated, get your $5 back. Not great, but simple. Right? I was so amused with one of the women in front of me in line at Rite Aid ("How much are these plants out here?" "They're from $3.99." "What about this one?" "The prices are on the bottom." "Well I need someone to help me lift them, I'm disabled.") I forgot to get my ticket validated. I was too lazy and my foot was too tired for me to go back upstairs to the store, so I decided to ask the guy at the ticket booth if I could use my receipt as validation. He was apoplectic. No no no! You have to get validation! You park here and go get validation! "No, you know what, that's ok, I'll just pay and go." No! You park here! Look you can back up and park and go get validation! "No, that's alright, I don't need the money. I have to be somewhere..." NO, just park now, go get validation! You need sticker like this! "No. That's OK. I NEED to BE somewhere." And so on, until I was just considering driving through the barrier to get free -- he may have seen the look of determination in my eye. I've never argued with someone to get them to keep the money they were kind of cheating me out of. It felt like a scene from Fawlty Towers.
Being able to drive again is definitely a mixed blessing.
However, here's something that makes everything ok:
4/27/2008
Wedding Times
I just attended my cousin Sara's wedding in which:
1) I put out a fire with my bare hands,
2) The police showed up,
3) We made a soul train line while dancing to "The Hora" because we're SO Jewish (and by "we" I mean my mother and other guests and definitely not me),
and 4) I had possibly the worst drinks ever in my life (a Dirty Martini and a tepid cup of Earl Grey).
Later on you shall find:
1) A recap of the aforementioned events,
and 2) A rant -- sorry, thoughtful discussion -- about cocktails.
1) I put out a fire with my bare hands,
2) The police showed up,
3) We made a soul train line while dancing to "The Hora" because we're SO Jewish (and by "we" I mean my mother and other guests and definitely not me),
and 4) I had possibly the worst drinks ever in my life (a Dirty Martini and a tepid cup of Earl Grey).
Later on you shall find:
1) A recap of the aforementioned events,
and 2) A rant -- sorry, thoughtful discussion -- about cocktails.
4/21/2008
Now 100% More Crutch-Free
Today was the day. The doctor gave me the OK to ditch the crutches plus a few more benchmarks:
One Week: Driving. Don't have to wear the boot around the house.
Two Weeks: Ditch the boot.
4-6 Months: ... Back to 100%. (He said I'd be ready to play sports again in the Fall.)
The crutches immediately got shoved to the back of my closet and I'm downright speedy, now that I can officially walk without them. (I may have been walking around without crutches prior to word from the doc...) I can also carry things while I walk, fix my hair or scratch my nose while I walk, and swagger with a nice boot/gangsta lean. Still, I'll have my boot at my cousin's wedding this weekend -- good thing I've got a dress to match!
As you can tell, I'm doing much better. Jonny Wilkinson, however, is missing the upcoming English tour of New Zealand for shoulder surgery. What can I say but that I feel his pain? Nationals were in Albuquerque this past weekend, and they were hard to watch. So very hard. Still, I'm glad I went and supported the team. Here we are after our last match:
Four(ish) years with this team have been great. It's going to be very hard to leave.
And now, my life in science:
From xkcd, a wonderful, nerdy comic.
One Week: Driving. Don't have to wear the boot around the house.
Two Weeks: Ditch the boot.
4-6 Months: ... Back to 100%. (He said I'd be ready to play sports again in the Fall.)
The crutches immediately got shoved to the back of my closet and I'm downright speedy, now that I can officially walk without them. (I may have been walking around without crutches prior to word from the doc...) I can also carry things while I walk, fix my hair or scratch my nose while I walk, and swagger with a nice boot/gangsta lean. Still, I'll have my boot at my cousin's wedding this weekend -- good thing I've got a dress to match!
As you can tell, I'm doing much better. Jonny Wilkinson, however, is missing the upcoming English tour of New Zealand for shoulder surgery. What can I say but that I feel his pain? Nationals were in Albuquerque this past weekend, and they were hard to watch. So very hard. Still, I'm glad I went and supported the team. Here we are after our last match:
Four(ish) years with this team have been great. It's going to be very hard to leave.
And now, my life in science:
From xkcd, a wonderful, nerdy comic.
4/16/2008
This Week On Crutches
1) Sucks
2) Will hopefully be my last.
Now, for a taste of insanity:
Kids' book on plastic surgery
Can I just say that surgeon is frighteningly buff? He's got a tiny little head! And not to mention that the plastic surgery somehow also gave mommy longer legs, smaller feet, and better hair. As for the rest of the content... I don't even know where to begin. So I won't -- there's too much to say.
And a wee bit of sanity, for thankful counterbalance:
France targets anorexia in media
2) Will hopefully be my last.
Now, for a taste of insanity:
Kids' book on plastic surgery
Can I just say that surgeon is frighteningly buff? He's got a tiny little head! And not to mention that the plastic surgery somehow also gave mommy longer legs, smaller feet, and better hair. As for the rest of the content... I don't even know where to begin. So I won't -- there's too much to say.
And a wee bit of sanity, for thankful counterbalance:
France targets anorexia in media
4/07/2008
Message from the front, in the War against Los Angeles
At The Battle of the Rooftop Bar at The Standard, Downtown
Guy at the bar: Hey, do you like salad?
Me, after 3 drinks: I fucking hate salad!
Guy: What? What's wrong with salad?
Me: It's full of vegetables. I fucking hate vegetables!
Guy: ... You're a troublemaker. (Pause) How'd you hurt your foot?
Me: Playing rugby.
Guy: Are you American?
Me: Yes.
Guy: Wait, you're American?
Me: Yes...
Guy: And you play rugby?
Me: Um, yes.
Guy: Wow! Props for that! (Gives me a fist pump)
Me: Right... anyway, they like salad (pointing to my two friends next to me).
Guy: (Turning to talk to my friends) Oh, you guys like salad? Awesome!
I have to say that "Do you like salad?" is both the worst and most LA pickup line I've ever heard. Memorable other failures include:
Guy: Hey, how much does a polar bear weigh?
Me: Oh, about 600-800 pounds. Why?
Guy: ...... (Sheepishly) Just enough to break the ice... Hi my name's [Redacted].
Guy: Hey, are you Greek?
My Greek best friend from high school: Yes.
Guy: ... Oh, 'cause you look like a goddess.
My Friend: Get lost.
Memorable successes include:
"Are these cookies homemade?"
"What'd you think of that band?"
and
"So, what beer do you recommend?"
There must be more... must be... possibly... maybe not.
Oh, Los Angeles. You make me... sick? No, amused. I leave you with this:
[Later on at the bar...]
Same guy: (To the three of us) I can't believe you live in California and don't speak another language!
Me: I speak another language.
Guy: Oh, do you speak Spanish?
Me: Yeah.
Guy: Se habla espanol?
Me: ... Si.
Guy: That's great. I'm Mexican, and I don't even speak Spanish.
Me: Wow.
Guy at the bar: Hey, do you like salad?
Me, after 3 drinks: I fucking hate salad!
Guy: What? What's wrong with salad?
Me: It's full of vegetables. I fucking hate vegetables!
Guy: ... You're a troublemaker. (Pause) How'd you hurt your foot?
Me: Playing rugby.
Guy: Are you American?
Me: Yes.
Guy: Wait, you're American?
Me: Yes...
Guy: And you play rugby?
Me: Um, yes.
Guy: Wow! Props for that! (Gives me a fist pump)
Me: Right... anyway, they like salad (pointing to my two friends next to me).
Guy: (Turning to talk to my friends) Oh, you guys like salad? Awesome!
I have to say that "Do you like salad?" is both the worst and most LA pickup line I've ever heard. Memorable other failures include:
Guy: Hey, how much does a polar bear weigh?
Me: Oh, about 600-800 pounds. Why?
Guy: ...... (Sheepishly) Just enough to break the ice... Hi my name's [Redacted].
Guy: Hey, are you Greek?
My Greek best friend from high school: Yes.
Guy: ... Oh, 'cause you look like a goddess.
My Friend: Get lost.
Memorable successes include:
"Are these cookies homemade?"
"What'd you think of that band?"
and
"So, what beer do you recommend?"
There must be more... must be... possibly... maybe not.
Oh, Los Angeles. You make me... sick? No, amused. I leave you with this:
[Later on at the bar...]
Same guy: (To the three of us) I can't believe you live in California and don't speak another language!
Me: I speak another language.
Guy: Oh, do you speak Spanish?
Me: Yeah.
Guy: Se habla espanol?
Me: ... Si.
Guy: That's great. I'm Mexican, and I don't even speak Spanish.
Me: Wow.
3/30/2008
Being on crutches is starting to suck
Reasons why:
1. Sore arms.
2. Itchy scar. (Side effect, though, technically.)
3. Chubby toes.
4. Dirty looks from drivers -- it is NOT my fault the "Walk" light is so short!
5. Difficulty in putting on jeans.
6. A pile of left shoes by the door, and right ones in my closet.
7. Not being able to walk/crutch anywhere and carry ANYTHING in my hands at the same time. (A little thought of side effect!)
8. Watching the door slam shut because someone forgot to hold it open for you... Dad.
9. Four. More. Weeks.
10. I cannot drive. (Silver lining, though, considering Los Angeles??)
11. I can't crutch anywhere without getting stupidly sweaty. Ugh.
Enough complaining. Oh, and they frighten my dogs, and it's hard to pick things up, and...
Things I've learned on crutches:
1. That floor is slippery, and the rubber nubs at the bottom are not all powerful. Ow, that hurt my left knee and my dignity.
2. A couple of drinks + bathroom upstairs = BAD
3. They're great for sympathy, but look out for the "talkers" (people who will start a conversation about ANYTHING opportune... Weird dude at a gas station: "So, didya break it skiing?" Me: "...No.")
4. Did I mention it's hard to pick things up?
5. Previously short distances have all of a sudden become veeeeeryyyy far.
6. Backpacks make your shirt ride up... hope you enjoy showing off that squishy belly.
7. Apparently they're good for your arms and core... I've yet to see much improvement in the latter.
Meh, next quarter is about to start. I've just spent Spring Break up at home instead of Hong Kong. Yeah, don't talk to me. No, actually I've accomplished some good things and I've kept my recovery going well and got my stitches out. See? Accomplished. Not lazy.
Although I did just finish reading The Perfect Insult for Every Occasion; Lady Snark's Guide to Common Discourtesy by A.C. Kemp and found that I had little to learn from it...
1. Sore arms.
2. Itchy scar. (Side effect, though, technically.)
3. Chubby toes.
4. Dirty looks from drivers -- it is NOT my fault the "Walk" light is so short!
5. Difficulty in putting on jeans.
6. A pile of left shoes by the door, and right ones in my closet.
7. Not being able to walk/crutch anywhere and carry ANYTHING in my hands at the same time. (A little thought of side effect!)
8. Watching the door slam shut because someone forgot to hold it open for you... Dad.
9. Four. More. Weeks.
10. I cannot drive. (Silver lining, though, considering Los Angeles??)
11. I can't crutch anywhere without getting stupidly sweaty. Ugh.
Enough complaining. Oh, and they frighten my dogs, and it's hard to pick things up, and...
Things I've learned on crutches:
1. That floor is slippery, and the rubber nubs at the bottom are not all powerful. Ow, that hurt my left knee and my dignity.
2. A couple of drinks + bathroom upstairs = BAD
3. They're great for sympathy, but look out for the "talkers" (people who will start a conversation about ANYTHING opportune... Weird dude at a gas station: "So, didya break it skiing?" Me: "...No.")
4. Did I mention it's hard to pick things up?
5. Previously short distances have all of a sudden become veeeeeryyyy far.
6. Backpacks make your shirt ride up... hope you enjoy showing off that squishy belly.
7. Apparently they're good for your arms and core... I've yet to see much improvement in the latter.
Meh, next quarter is about to start. I've just spent Spring Break up at home instead of Hong Kong. Yeah, don't talk to me. No, actually I've accomplished some good things and I've kept my recovery going well and got my stitches out. See? Accomplished. Not lazy.
Although I did just finish reading The Perfect Insult for Every Occasion; Lady Snark's Guide to Common Discourtesy by A.C. Kemp and found that I had little to learn from it...
3/20/2008
This Week on Drugs
This is me on percocets:
This is what's happening inside my brain on percocets:
Which makes it a little hard to study for finals.
This is what's happening inside my brain on percocets:
Which makes it a little hard to study for finals.
3/11/2008
Rugby-times Update
I realized we're here in the thick of rugby season and I've not updated you once about how we're doing -- something I ought to do since rugby basically rules my life in-season. So far, we're 5-0. We've beat UC Santa Barbara twice (convincingly), UC San Diego twice (tough games!), and ASU once (pretty convincingly). This past weekend, in fact, we had a double-header. Sunday was a blow-out against UCSB, but Saturday was the bone-burner against UCSD, the deciding match as to whether we would go to nationals...
The Good News: We won the game, and are going to nationals!
The Not-So-Good News: I tore my Achilles tendon, and have to get surgery. This also means 6 weeks on crutches and around 6 months till I'm back at 100%/sports.
But... we won... yay?
I was doing a little research on Achilles tendon, and found this helpful information from Runnersweb.com:
... 2,880 lbs. Ok, See the picture? I usually play #5 (a.k.a. Lock, Second Row). But really, the scrum is a battle between the Tight Fives, a total of 10 people. That still comes out to rough weight of 1,800 lbs. As Radiohead says, no surprises. I've been getting a lot of (I think) well-deserved sympathy. In all my years of sports and rugby, I've never had an injury that's left me lying on the floor screaming.
So, for now (and the next 6 weeks or so it looks like) I'm on crutches. Most tiring form of transportation ever -- I wish I'd spent more time in the gym doing tricep dips. What were once short, easy walks have turned into 'waaaayyyy too far to get to'. I get a lot of kind looks and sympathy from complete strangers, with everything from door-holding to offering of rides. ("But mom always said never get in the car with a stranger...") Anyway, this has made me get super-pissed off at the people who aren't so... gracious. I wanted to kick this girl at my lecture today; I walked in and asked her if I could sit at the table where she was sitting (the seating for handicapped students in the lecture theater). She looked over at the other table (which was also full,) and said, "Um... is there space over there?" I was about to yell at her, "Bitch! I'm on crutches! MOVE!" When one of the guys at the other table, who's in my discussion, jumped up and immediately gave me his seat. "Ohhhh, thank you so much," I growled at her, as I crutched away. I hope all her flashcards spontaneously combust. They just need to get me a t-shirt that says "I'm on crutches. Get out of my way, dumbass!" It would save me a lot of snarking.
In other news, I'm digging this mini-quote right now, both in and out of context:
"Hypocrisy, thou art snortable."
It's from Mark Morford's most recent column, about the failure that is the war on drugs. It concludes quite nicely:
The Good News: We won the game, and are going to nationals!
The Not-So-Good News: I tore my Achilles tendon, and have to get surgery. This also means 6 weeks on crutches and around 6 months till I'm back at 100%/sports.
But... we won... yay?
I was doing a little research on Achilles tendon, and found this helpful information from Runnersweb.com:
The Achilles tendon is the strongest tendon of the body, and able to withstand a 1000 pound force without tearing. Despite this, the Achilles ruptures more frequently than any other tendon because of the tremendous pressures placed on it during competitive sports.Good to know. So I'm thinkin'... if there's 16 people in a scrum, each averaging, let's say, 180 pounds... that comes out to...
... 2,880 lbs. Ok, See the picture? I usually play #5 (a.k.a. Lock, Second Row). But really, the scrum is a battle between the Tight Fives, a total of 10 people. That still comes out to rough weight of 1,800 lbs. As Radiohead says, no surprises. I've been getting a lot of (I think) well-deserved sympathy. In all my years of sports and rugby, I've never had an injury that's left me lying on the floor screaming.
So, for now (and the next 6 weeks or so it looks like) I'm on crutches. Most tiring form of transportation ever -- I wish I'd spent more time in the gym doing tricep dips. What were once short, easy walks have turned into 'waaaayyyy too far to get to'. I get a lot of kind looks and sympathy from complete strangers, with everything from door-holding to offering of rides. ("But mom always said never get in the car with a stranger...") Anyway, this has made me get super-pissed off at the people who aren't so... gracious. I wanted to kick this girl at my lecture today; I walked in and asked her if I could sit at the table where she was sitting (the seating for handicapped students in the lecture theater). She looked over at the other table (which was also full,) and said, "Um... is there space over there?" I was about to yell at her, "Bitch! I'm on crutches! MOVE!" When one of the guys at the other table, who's in my discussion, jumped up and immediately gave me his seat. "Ohhhh, thank you so much," I growled at her, as I crutched away. I hope all her flashcards spontaneously combust. They just need to get me a t-shirt that says "I'm on crutches. Get out of my way, dumbass!" It would save me a lot of snarking.
In other news, I'm digging this mini-quote right now, both in and out of context:
"Hypocrisy, thou art snortable."
It's from Mark Morford's most recent column, about the failure that is the war on drugs. It concludes quite nicely:
It is, you can say with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart and a madly tangled mind, just one of those things. One of those enormously uncomfortable and disheartening situations in American society that keeps churning on and eating at our national soul, simply because no one, particularly not the politicians we hire to speak up and put a stop to such idiotic hypocrisy, has the nerve to speak up and put a stop to such idiotic hypocrisy.Well said, good sir. Well said.
It is like farm subsidies. Like oil monopolies. Like waterboarding. Like Homeland Security and big tobacco and Dick Cheney. Everyone with the slightest intelligence knows it's a massive failure. Everyone knows it's a scam, a brutal lie, that it destroys far more than it allegedly helps. And yet, on it goes. It's all so insidious and unfair and depressing it can make you want to tear out your hair and wail at the moon. Or, you know, start doing drugs.
2/27/2008
P.S. Etc.
"Breaking free from your own domestication and walking without fear allows you see the lies that hold so many bound in unhappy lives." A nice quote I stumbled upon here.
Also, this blog rocks:
Garfield minus Garfield
Also, this blog rocks:
Garfield minus Garfield
If That's What You're Into...
I was thinking about the sorts of things I like, and how I find out about them (books, websites, bands, etc.). Generally, it's a sort of extended word-of-mouth/word association chain that makes them stick in my mind long enough to remember to check them out.
Other ones, however, not so much. Like I said, if I've heard something mentioned enough I'll investigate to see what all the fuss is about. However, too much mention sometimes has the opposite effect -- Ayn Rand's book come to mind. If your book is such that you have to publicize a $1,000 scholarship just to get someone to read and write a book report on it, then I'm probably not going to find it interesting. It's probably about insect taxonomy or something equally boring. I hate bugs.*
*Note: I don't actually hate bugs. The above sentence is for dramatic effect. I recognize the important ecological role and right to life of all insects -- I am anti-choice when it comes to legalizing bugs abortions.
Other ones, however, not so much. Like I said, if I've heard something mentioned enough I'll investigate to see what all the fuss is about. However, too much mention sometimes has the opposite effect -- Ayn Rand's book come to mind. If your book is such that you have to publicize a $1,000 scholarship just to get someone to read and write a book report on it, then I'm probably not going to find it interesting. It's probably about insect taxonomy or something equally boring. I hate bugs.*
*Note: I don't actually hate bugs. The above sentence is for dramatic effect. I recognize the important ecological role and right to life of all insects -- I am anti-choice when it comes to legalizing bugs abortions.
2/23/2008
Retro-Fantastic
This is part of an unfinished post I began a few weeks ago. It has some points I'd like to make, some I'd like to elaborate on, and a few I'd like to finish. Here's what I wrote:
Television. Los Angeles. Grey. Sun?
"I don't know what physiological factors influence me to post blogs only when it's raining; perhaps I imagine I'm stuck inside with nothing to do (rainy day syndrome) or I got so used to it raining most of the time in Scotland that it only seems right to post when water pours from the sky. At any rate, that's what is happening in LA right now. The clouds are inflicting their pain.
I like it at any rate. I enjoy the feeling of raindrops on my face. The sorority girls in leggings & uggs? Not so much.
First off, updates on the driving front:
-Round trip to LA Union station, twice = feeling of bizarre accomplishment. Taking the 405-South to the 10-East to the 110-North to the 101-South is a bit of a struggle. And winning counts for something. Right?
-Fighting traffic down to Manhattan Beach on a rainy Wednesday night, departure time of 4.30pm = terrible. Terrible terrible. Anyone who was in the car with me at the time can testify to how many times it was said "I think we're getting near LAX now..." We were wrong all of those times. We barely made it there by 6.30. Just in time.
-Field trip to Malibu = Driving along the cost today (PCH, all the way!) on my way back from Malibu felt liberating. The sun on my face and seeing the deep blue next to me, it was a feeling of freedom and peace I hadn't realized I'd missed. Not sure if it's the grandeur of the California Coast, some fresh air, being away from UCLA, or just the boring phsyiological reaction of more vitamin D, but it was lovely. Aside from the whole having to drive there and back bit.
So, Television, the main point I'm trying to make."
So that's where I left off. A bit random, but I'll continue:
So, Television, the main point I'm trying to make. Several weeks ago I attended a couple TV tapings as fundraisers for our upcoming rugby tour to Hong Kong. (If YOU want to donate... I'm not going to stop you.) At any rate, the two tapings I went to were for The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson and America's Funniest Home Videos (which is mysteriously shortened to only "AFV"). I don't own a television, haven't had regular access to one in over a year, and realized exactly why I hate TV and why the major networks are dying. TV sucks. The Late Late Show was pretty much utter dreck -- cheesy late night chat show at it's height, with a Scottish host thrown in for a little flavor. Craig Ferguson's watered down west coast/weegie accent was the only thing that kept it bearable. That and the fact that James McAvoy was a guest on the show -- the camera blocked him from my view the whole time, but he has a nice voice and I got to be the only person in the audience to laugh at the Scottish references he and the host made.
Also, this guy was a guest. Don't know his name, only that he's "the other dude from 'Two and a Half Men' who's not Charlie Sheen." Good enough.
(Apparently it's Jon Cryer. Who knew?) I suck at celeb-spotting/naming/caring. And to be honest, it makes life in LA just that much easier, despite the flak I catch from my friends. ("I'm gonna go find Fred Segal." "Oh, is he meeting us here?" "... No, it's a shoe store.")
On with the story! (Land the plane, Julia, land the plane!) Anyway, Craig Ferguson. I've never seen a Scotsman that tan, with teeth that blindingly white or straight. The whole episode taping experience was a hilarious/pathetic view into the artificial nature of television. There was some mid-life-crisis-aged middle manager charged with the job of getting us pumped up, telling bad jokes, waving his arms for us to clap, and throwing bite-sized candy bars at us. Horrible, laughable. In fact, that's about the only thing I genuinely laughed at the entire time. So all the things you think people are laughing at on the chat shows? They've been bribed. Or they're incredibly stupid.
America's Funniest Home Videos ("AFV", not "AFHV" for some reason...) was a slightly more enjoyable experience, mostly because I got to sit off camera and some of the videos were genuinely funny. The episode airs March the SomethingTH and I'm not allowed to tell you who won the big prize for funniest video, but I will say that my personal favorite was the baby getting clotheslined by two dogs fighting over a dish towel. Awesome. Most of the videos shared a common theme of fat people trying and failing to do things (two women getting stuck, trying to climb in a window of their trailer) which I find hilarious but sad at the same time. Pretty much a reflection of what our country's coming to these days. What's the word for that? Oh yeah, irony. Also, as with the chat show, there was a fat guy telling bad jokes and throwing candy at us to make us laugh. I'm sensing a pattern.
In conclusion, the artificial nature of the televisual episode taping process, as witnessed and reported firsthand, serves as both a useful indicator and reflection of the relative weaknesses of popular network television. Namely, it's crap. And they wonder why people increasingly turn to youtube and the internet for entertainment. It's fresh, it's not approved of by old white guy execs in a fancy office. It's democratic. Largely inane, but democratic nonetheless. Let the people choose the stupid shit they want to see, for free.
On that note, I leave you with a quote from one of the Kings of Snark:
"The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated." -Oscar Wilde
Television. Los Angeles. Grey. Sun?
"I don't know what physiological factors influence me to post blogs only when it's raining; perhaps I imagine I'm stuck inside with nothing to do (rainy day syndrome) or I got so used to it raining most of the time in Scotland that it only seems right to post when water pours from the sky. At any rate, that's what is happening in LA right now. The clouds are inflicting their pain.
I like it at any rate. I enjoy the feeling of raindrops on my face. The sorority girls in leggings & uggs? Not so much.
First off, updates on the driving front:
-Round trip to LA Union station, twice = feeling of bizarre accomplishment. Taking the 405-South to the 10-East to the 110-North to the 101-South is a bit of a struggle. And winning counts for something. Right?
-Fighting traffic down to Manhattan Beach on a rainy Wednesday night, departure time of 4.30pm = terrible. Terrible terrible. Anyone who was in the car with me at the time can testify to how many times it was said "I think we're getting near LAX now..." We were wrong all of those times. We barely made it there by 6.30. Just in time.
-Field trip to Malibu = Driving along the cost today (PCH, all the way!) on my way back from Malibu felt liberating. The sun on my face and seeing the deep blue next to me, it was a feeling of freedom and peace I hadn't realized I'd missed. Not sure if it's the grandeur of the California Coast, some fresh air, being away from UCLA, or just the boring phsyiological reaction of more vitamin D, but it was lovely. Aside from the whole having to drive there and back bit.
So, Television, the main point I'm trying to make."
So that's where I left off. A bit random, but I'll continue:
So, Television, the main point I'm trying to make. Several weeks ago I attended a couple TV tapings as fundraisers for our upcoming rugby tour to Hong Kong. (If YOU want to donate... I'm not going to stop you.) At any rate, the two tapings I went to were for The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson and America's Funniest Home Videos (which is mysteriously shortened to only "AFV"). I don't own a television, haven't had regular access to one in over a year, and realized exactly why I hate TV and why the major networks are dying. TV sucks. The Late Late Show was pretty much utter dreck -- cheesy late night chat show at it's height, with a Scottish host thrown in for a little flavor. Craig Ferguson's watered down west coast/weegie accent was the only thing that kept it bearable. That and the fact that James McAvoy was a guest on the show -- the camera blocked him from my view the whole time, but he has a nice voice and I got to be the only person in the audience to laugh at the Scottish references he and the host made.
Also, this guy was a guest. Don't know his name, only that he's "the other dude from 'Two and a Half Men' who's not Charlie Sheen." Good enough.
(Apparently it's Jon Cryer. Who knew?) I suck at celeb-spotting/naming/caring. And to be honest, it makes life in LA just that much easier, despite the flak I catch from my friends. ("I'm gonna go find Fred Segal." "Oh, is he meeting us here?" "... No, it's a shoe store.")
On with the story! (Land the plane, Julia, land the plane!) Anyway, Craig Ferguson. I've never seen a Scotsman that tan, with teeth that blindingly white or straight. The whole episode taping experience was a hilarious/pathetic view into the artificial nature of television. There was some mid-life-crisis-aged middle manager charged with the job of getting us pumped up, telling bad jokes, waving his arms for us to clap, and throwing bite-sized candy bars at us. Horrible, laughable. In fact, that's about the only thing I genuinely laughed at the entire time. So all the things you think people are laughing at on the chat shows? They've been bribed. Or they're incredibly stupid.
America's Funniest Home Videos ("AFV", not "AFHV" for some reason...) was a slightly more enjoyable experience, mostly because I got to sit off camera and some of the videos were genuinely funny. The episode airs March the SomethingTH and I'm not allowed to tell you who won the big prize for funniest video, but I will say that my personal favorite was the baby getting clotheslined by two dogs fighting over a dish towel. Awesome. Most of the videos shared a common theme of fat people trying and failing to do things (two women getting stuck, trying to climb in a window of their trailer) which I find hilarious but sad at the same time. Pretty much a reflection of what our country's coming to these days. What's the word for that? Oh yeah, irony. Also, as with the chat show, there was a fat guy telling bad jokes and throwing candy at us to make us laugh. I'm sensing a pattern.
In conclusion, the artificial nature of the televisual episode taping process, as witnessed and reported firsthand, serves as both a useful indicator and reflection of the relative weaknesses of popular network television. Namely, it's crap. And they wonder why people increasingly turn to youtube and the internet for entertainment. It's fresh, it's not approved of by old white guy execs in a fancy office. It's democratic. Largely inane, but democratic nonetheless. Let the people choose the stupid shit they want to see, for free.
On that note, I leave you with a quote from one of the Kings of Snark:
"The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated." -Oscar Wilde
2/18/2008
Monday Morning/Bar Italia
Did my radio show today, which was fun as usual. (For the record, you can catch me every Monday from 12-2pm on UCLAradio.com! If the stream's working.) However, since it's President's Day and we have no school, neither of the djs on before or after me showed up. This happened on MLK day, too. And last week I did my show in silence thanks to the fact that the stream was down. What dedication from members and management alike. Normally I censor myself a bit on this blog, since it's (obviously) public and I don't really need to go loudmouthing whiney opinions that will get me in trouble with the wrong people. I'm just sick of the general laziness that seems to abound at the station.
As for the post's title(s), again it's based on a couple of songs -- this time the titles instead of the lyrics. For the record, I'm feeling "Monday Morning" by Pulp off their album, Different Class, and the track "Bar Italia" follows it superbly. Here's the relevant bits:
"There's nothing to do so you just stay in bed,
oh poor thing,
why live in the world when you can live in your head?
Mmm when you can go out late from Monday,
till Saturday turns into Sunday,
and now you're back here at Monday,
so we can do it all over again.
And you go aah ah ah
I want a refund,
I want a light,
I want a reason,
to make it through the night, alright.
And so you finally left school,
so now what are you going to do?
Now you're so grown up,
yeah you're oh oh oh oh oh so mature oh...
Stomach in,
chest out,
on your marks,
get set, go.
Now, now that you're free,
what are you going to be?
And who are you going to see?
And where, where will you go?
And how will you know,
You didn't get it all wrong?
Is this the light of a new day dawning?
A future bright that you can walk in?
No it's just another Monday morning.
Do it all over again, oh baby."
As for the post's title(s), again it's based on a couple of songs -- this time the titles instead of the lyrics. For the record, I'm feeling "Monday Morning" by Pulp off their album, Different Class, and the track "Bar Italia" follows it superbly. Here's the relevant bits:
"There's nothing to do so you just stay in bed,
oh poor thing,
why live in the world when you can live in your head?
Mmm when you can go out late from Monday,
till Saturday turns into Sunday,
and now you're back here at Monday,
so we can do it all over again.
And you go aah ah ah
I want a refund,
I want a light,
I want a reason,
to make it through the night, alright.
And so you finally left school,
so now what are you going to do?
Now you're so grown up,
yeah you're oh oh oh oh oh so mature oh...
Stomach in,
chest out,
on your marks,
get set, go.
Now, now that you're free,
what are you going to be?
And who are you going to see?
And where, where will you go?
And how will you know,
You didn't get it all wrong?
Is this the light of a new day dawning?
A future bright that you can walk in?
No it's just another Monday morning.
Do it all over again, oh baby."
2/14/2008
No More Nurdles! They Kill Turtles!
An Environmentally friendly poem:
Ahem.
I see
floating out at sea
plastic pre-production industrial pellets
as far as the eye can see.
What are they?
NURDLES
And now there's animals swimming around
nabbing the plastic from the surface
choking and dying
TURTLES ARE EATING THE NURDLES!
We've got to stop the nurdles
even though it seems like there's a lot of hurdles
do it for the turtles
before their poor insides curdle
I've run out of wordles (that rhyme with nurdles)
Nurdles are actually real, believe it or not; they are the main component of the giant plastic/trash globs out in the ocean. Google them and ye shall not be disappointed.
Seriously, why did they have to call them "nurdles"? Now we're going to just sound crazy. I can picture a crowd of Greenpeace picketers outside a governmental building with signs and chants that go: "No more nurdles! They kill turtles!"
Ahem.
I see
floating out at sea
plastic pre-production industrial pellets
as far as the eye can see.
What are they?
NURDLES
And now there's animals swimming around
nabbing the plastic from the surface
choking and dying
TURTLES ARE EATING THE NURDLES!
We've got to stop the nurdles
even though it seems like there's a lot of hurdles
do it for the turtles
before their poor insides curdle
I've run out of wordles (that rhyme with nurdles)
Nurdles are actually real, believe it or not; they are the main component of the giant plastic/trash globs out in the ocean. Google them and ye shall not be disappointed.
Seriously, why did they have to call them "nurdles"? Now we're going to just sound crazy. I can picture a crowd of Greenpeace picketers outside a governmental building with signs and chants that go: "No more nurdles! They kill turtles!"
2/05/2008
What I'd Like to See Happen
(Here comes a poorly prepared, not fully thought out, uncaffinated rant. Prepare yourself.)
No more oil. We wake up tomorrow and the headlines about who won what and where in Super Tuesday have been pushed aside, and in there place stand cool, dark, forbidding words telling of certain doom: No more oil. Somehow, every single oil well everywhere has dried up, all of a sudden. All we have left of the sticky black substance is all that we have left. People panic and, despite the government's and Exxon's and Shell's and BP's and Chevron's assurances that 'we will find oil elsewhere!', rush all at once to the gas station to get their one last fix. The lines go on for miles, but I laugh and instead make about a billion trips back and forth to the grocery store on my bike, carrying as much as I can, because only I (and my roommates and friends and people I like) realize what's going to go first -- not the commute to work, but the infrastructure of necessary services and goods.
In a matter of days, everything's come to a standstill. A few dazed people wander the streets, in silent panic, but there's no monster from which we can run, nor in any direction, safety. Electricity's availability comes into question, and soon we're limited to a few headlines every few days. Apparently, all the oil executives (and their ridiculously wealthy friends/board members) have all gone bankrupt from their vain attempts to find new oil wells, and they and their families and trust funds are out on the street. Too bad all that money can't buy much anymore, not even a phone call, since cellular and most landline service went out. Makes it hard to call home.
There's not a lot left for me here in L.A., and it's come to everyone's attention a little late that this city really is impossible to navigate without a car. School's out indefinitely, so cue a road trip as I decide to pack it all in and bike up to San Francisco. If I can't call my parents I feel I'd best go find them, make sure they're surviving. I fashion a sort of bike trailer to haul all my food with me -- I can leave the rest of my stuff in LA, it's not going anywhere -- and set off for the 101. The 5 runs through too much desert and if the 101/Mission Trail good enough for the Spanish Monks, it's good enough for me. Plus nice ocean views. Although lots of hills.
I arrive in Norcal a couple of weeks later, to find San Francisco hanging on, barely, though faring better than L.A. I cross the Bay Bridge on bike for the first time, with no daytime traffic (also for the first time), and find my parents to be well and at home, having figured out some really clever way of getting by because, after all, they had to produce a kid as clever as me.
San Francisco, thankfully, is equipped for the Green Revolution (hippies + silicon valley engineers = handy after all!), and leads the way in restoring things -- well, at least we think we're leading the way, we don't really hear much from the rest of the country or world these days (the only sad part of this story). In a few months time, there are glimpses of normalcy once again and within a year life has been restored to almost how we knew it, only better. People decided that, they didn't really like that commute and that job anyway, so they're going to stay home and help install the new solar panels in their complex or tend their new front-lawn-turned-vegetable-garden, and so the pace of life slows and becomes a very nice as-close-to-communist-as-you-can-get-without-actually-being-officially-instituted system of commune-ities where people find they get on just fine without Wi-Fi and HDTV. Also, no one can be bothered manufacturing chemicals or pesticides or Doritos or other harmful relics of the post-industrial era anymore, so everything cleans up considerably.
I spend a lot of time chilling and playing Beatles songs on my guitar until I decide to start a business transporting food around with my bike and little trailer, and it turns out to be pretty damn profitable, since people (though now more enlightened) are still too lazy to go out and buy all their (now organic) groceries themselves. Eventually someone invents an airplane or rocket or super fast boat that runs on sunshine or rainbows or something so I can travel around the globe and visit all my friends in other countries. And life is pretty cool. Also in there somewhere some media is restored and we find out that (although we assume Global Warming has been mostly stopped) drought and hurricanes and generally nasty conditions are affecting all the predominantly Republican areas of the USA, and that Dick Cheney has accidentally shot himself in the face (but no one can really tell). Oh, irony, you saucy mistress.
And I will never have to find a real job. Ever. :)
No more oil. We wake up tomorrow and the headlines about who won what and where in Super Tuesday have been pushed aside, and in there place stand cool, dark, forbidding words telling of certain doom: No more oil. Somehow, every single oil well everywhere has dried up, all of a sudden. All we have left of the sticky black substance is all that we have left. People panic and, despite the government's and Exxon's and Shell's and BP's and Chevron's assurances that 'we will find oil elsewhere!', rush all at once to the gas station to get their one last fix. The lines go on for miles, but I laugh and instead make about a billion trips back and forth to the grocery store on my bike, carrying as much as I can, because only I (and my roommates and friends and people I like) realize what's going to go first -- not the commute to work, but the infrastructure of necessary services and goods.
In a matter of days, everything's come to a standstill. A few dazed people wander the streets, in silent panic, but there's no monster from which we can run, nor in any direction, safety. Electricity's availability comes into question, and soon we're limited to a few headlines every few days. Apparently, all the oil executives (and their ridiculously wealthy friends/board members) have all gone bankrupt from their vain attempts to find new oil wells, and they and their families and trust funds are out on the street. Too bad all that money can't buy much anymore, not even a phone call, since cellular and most landline service went out. Makes it hard to call home.
There's not a lot left for me here in L.A., and it's come to everyone's attention a little late that this city really is impossible to navigate without a car. School's out indefinitely, so cue a road trip as I decide to pack it all in and bike up to San Francisco. If I can't call my parents I feel I'd best go find them, make sure they're surviving. I fashion a sort of bike trailer to haul all my food with me -- I can leave the rest of my stuff in LA, it's not going anywhere -- and set off for the 101. The 5 runs through too much desert and if the 101/Mission Trail good enough for the Spanish Monks, it's good enough for me. Plus nice ocean views. Although lots of hills.
I arrive in Norcal a couple of weeks later, to find San Francisco hanging on, barely, though faring better than L.A. I cross the Bay Bridge on bike for the first time, with no daytime traffic (also for the first time), and find my parents to be well and at home, having figured out some really clever way of getting by because, after all, they had to produce a kid as clever as me.
San Francisco, thankfully, is equipped for the Green Revolution (hippies + silicon valley engineers = handy after all!), and leads the way in restoring things -- well, at least we think we're leading the way, we don't really hear much from the rest of the country or world these days (the only sad part of this story). In a few months time, there are glimpses of normalcy once again and within a year life has been restored to almost how we knew it, only better. People decided that, they didn't really like that commute and that job anyway, so they're going to stay home and help install the new solar panels in their complex or tend their new front-lawn-turned-vegetable-garden, and so the pace of life slows and becomes a very nice as-close-to-communist-as-you-can-get-without-actually-being-officially-instituted system of commune-ities where people find they get on just fine without Wi-Fi and HDTV. Also, no one can be bothered manufacturing chemicals or pesticides or Doritos or other harmful relics of the post-industrial era anymore, so everything cleans up considerably.
I spend a lot of time chilling and playing Beatles songs on my guitar until I decide to start a business transporting food around with my bike and little trailer, and it turns out to be pretty damn profitable, since people (though now more enlightened) are still too lazy to go out and buy all their (now organic) groceries themselves. Eventually someone invents an airplane or rocket or super fast boat that runs on sunshine or rainbows or something so I can travel around the globe and visit all my friends in other countries. And life is pretty cool. Also in there somewhere some media is restored and we find out that (although we assume Global Warming has been mostly stopped) drought and hurricanes and generally nasty conditions are affecting all the predominantly Republican areas of the USA, and that Dick Cheney has accidentally shot himself in the face (but no one can really tell). Oh, irony, you saucy mistress.
And I will never have to find a real job. Ever. :)
Super Tues-day Too-day
I'll be honest, I don't care who wins. People are getting all riled up and stuff -- which I suppose is good if they'd otherwise not be involved -- but to be perfectly frank, I'll be very happy to vote for either Barack or Clinton in the general election. I think they're both strong candidates who could easily crush any of the Republican runners, all while setting a first for race/gender in the White House.
I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm tired of all the roundabout political drivel I've seen endlessly spouted for/against various candidates the last year or so. Let it be over and decided already.
And for the record, I'd be happy with almost any Prez/VP combo ticket: Barack/Clinton, Clinton/Barack, Clinton/Edwards, Barack/Edwards... Just get over it, people. The Republicans will find any number of racist/sexist/mean things to say about anyone -- electability is really up to the number of people who decide they don't want to be close-minded morons, not the actual candidate him/herself.
I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm tired of all the roundabout political drivel I've seen endlessly spouted for/against various candidates the last year or so. Let it be over and decided already.
And for the record, I'd be happy with almost any Prez/VP combo ticket: Barack/Clinton, Clinton/Barack, Clinton/Edwards, Barack/Edwards... Just get over it, people. The Republicans will find any number of racist/sexist/mean things to say about anyone -- electability is really up to the number of people who decide they don't want to be close-minded morons, not the actual candidate him/herself.
2/03/2008
This Is Friday Night.
I was just awoken from a nap in possibly the most pleasant way possible. I was splayed on my bed when I heard voices in our hallway. Suddenly, a knock on my bedroom door. A sleepy, "Yes?" "Would you like a pink cupcake?" "....SURE!" I don't think I've ever leapt out of bed so fast in my entire life. Gotta love neighbors and their baked goods.
Crazy party Friday night. There were about a billion people packed into a small apartment, it was sweaty and there were people cheering on vodka chuggers in the kitchen, but that's not what made it a crazy party. There were so many people I knew there. A guy from the radio station, a random girl from rugby, two separate groups of friends from second year (some of whom live in the same complex), a girl from one of my discussions first year, a girl who was friends with my roommate from orientation, lots of people I know as friends of friends and roomates, all packed into a little apartment that other friends used to live in a couple of years ago. Mental. It all made me feel very... old. But in a good, homecoming, sort of way. Maybe this is what I miss spending year after year jumping around the globe?
I spent pretty much the entire evening being flabbergasted at the situation. And dancing. Dancing always helps any crazy situation. Except maybe job interviews.
Pink cupcake wakeup. MMmm...
Crazy party Friday night. There were about a billion people packed into a small apartment, it was sweaty and there were people cheering on vodka chuggers in the kitchen, but that's not what made it a crazy party. There were so many people I knew there. A guy from the radio station, a random girl from rugby, two separate groups of friends from second year (some of whom live in the same complex), a girl from one of my discussions first year, a girl who was friends with my roommate from orientation, lots of people I know as friends of friends and roomates, all packed into a little apartment that other friends used to live in a couple of years ago. Mental. It all made me feel very... old. But in a good, homecoming, sort of way. Maybe this is what I miss spending year after year jumping around the globe?
I spent pretty much the entire evening being flabbergasted at the situation. And dancing. Dancing always helps any crazy situation. Except maybe job interviews.
Pink cupcake wakeup. MMmm...
1/30/2008
In Other News...
Midterms suck. I see no point in memorizing 23 species of seaweed.
I think the squirrels stole the sprouting stump of carrot top I planted in our balcony garden. Bastards.
I disagree with the professor who told me, "There's no reason to go running off to London." (Apparently there are plenty of jobs in conservation/advocacy around here. Really? Who would have guessed.)
Sound of Silver by LCD Soundsystem is a really great album, with loads of killer tunes.
Speaking of music, I was examining the number of songs in my "5 Star Playlist", for which membership is determined by a tune's ability to knock me flat on my back. Currently, there are 532 songs in this world that will absolutely floor me. This... is probably not healthy.
Rugby season's about to kick off this Sunday with what I expect will be a bone-burning game against UCSD. If midterms don't kill me first.
That is all.
I think the squirrels stole the sprouting stump of carrot top I planted in our balcony garden. Bastards.
I disagree with the professor who told me, "There's no reason to go running off to London." (Apparently there are plenty of jobs in conservation/advocacy around here. Really? Who would have guessed.)
Sound of Silver by LCD Soundsystem is a really great album, with loads of killer tunes.
Speaking of music, I was examining the number of songs in my "5 Star Playlist", for which membership is determined by a tune's ability to knock me flat on my back. Currently, there are 532 songs in this world that will absolutely floor me. This... is probably not healthy.
Rugby season's about to kick off this Sunday with what I expect will be a bone-burning game against UCSD. If midterms don't kill me first.
That is all.
1/28/2008
Crazy Lady, Livin' In A Bag
Thought I'd share a couple of anecdotes about... interesting women I've seen around town.
First:
I'm driving down Wilshire Boulevard, around the posh part with all the fancy office buildings that have expensive boutiques downstairs, near where Rodeo Drive hits. We're stuck in traffic, of course, as it's 4pm on a Friday, but there's an unusual character putting on a bit of a show on the opposite sidewalk. She's wearing tailored sharp black pants, a red jacket, stylish wedges, and a large white church hat. Not only is she dressed like she's going to the Royal Ascot, but she's doing a bit of a dance as well. Standing in one spot she's windmilling her arms in circles, and starts whooping and hollering before pointing out particular cars and doing a little booty shake. It sort of looks like she's won the lottery and is trying to tell passing drivers that she's going to share some of the money with them -- but without words. You gotta love it when the rich do interpretive dance.
Second:
Today, I'm coming up on the major crosswalk near my apartment, with not enough time to make it across in the current light cycle ("8... 7... 6..." flashes the red forbidding hand). There's a big tan SUV turning left and some people crossing the street, so it waits, halfway through it's turn, pointed at the crosswalk. The students ignore it and continue their walk towards campus, but one woman in particular takes exception. She brandishes her holey umbrella at the offending car on this sunny day, pausing in her walk and poking said instrument angrily at the SUV. The take-home message, I believe, is not to rush a woman who crosses the street, especially not one with a pretty blue 90s frock on over her jeans, two large, full plastic bags, and an injured brown umbrella. Be duly warned.
That's it, really, although I feel I really must recommend the song on which this post's title is based: "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash. Great old Hip-Hop tune.
First:
I'm driving down Wilshire Boulevard, around the posh part with all the fancy office buildings that have expensive boutiques downstairs, near where Rodeo Drive hits. We're stuck in traffic, of course, as it's 4pm on a Friday, but there's an unusual character putting on a bit of a show on the opposite sidewalk. She's wearing tailored sharp black pants, a red jacket, stylish wedges, and a large white church hat. Not only is she dressed like she's going to the Royal Ascot, but she's doing a bit of a dance as well. Standing in one spot she's windmilling her arms in circles, and starts whooping and hollering before pointing out particular cars and doing a little booty shake. It sort of looks like she's won the lottery and is trying to tell passing drivers that she's going to share some of the money with them -- but without words. You gotta love it when the rich do interpretive dance.
Second:
Today, I'm coming up on the major crosswalk near my apartment, with not enough time to make it across in the current light cycle ("8... 7... 6..." flashes the red forbidding hand). There's a big tan SUV turning left and some people crossing the street, so it waits, halfway through it's turn, pointed at the crosswalk. The students ignore it and continue their walk towards campus, but one woman in particular takes exception. She brandishes her holey umbrella at the offending car on this sunny day, pausing in her walk and poking said instrument angrily at the SUV. The take-home message, I believe, is not to rush a woman who crosses the street, especially not one with a pretty blue 90s frock on over her jeans, two large, full plastic bags, and an injured brown umbrella. Be duly warned.
That's it, really, although I feel I really must recommend the song on which this post's title is based: "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash. Great old Hip-Hop tune.
1/01/2008
Education
Things we, the people, have learned in 2007:
1. If you are openly homophobic, you are definitely gay.
1 1/2. If you are in the Catholic ministry, you might be gay. Only probably possibly gay, though.
2. If you still go out shopping on Black Friday, you are a consumo-tard.
3. If you shout louder than your opponent on TV, you have won the debate, unless he/she then later contradicts you on YouTube and/or their blog.
4. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake anymore, thanks to global warming.
5. Thinking, "Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt" may have made the high school years bearable, but it hasn't made W's reign all that much easier.
6. There's never been a better time to be in stodgy 'Old Europe', with the dollar in the state it's in.
7. It sucks to be in Iraq, be you Iraqi, Kurdish, US Troop, Haliburton employee, or otherwise. The country's just sort of a giant 'suck hole' at the moment, though it appears the GOP are still getting their rocks off there.
8. It kind of just sucks to be anywhere on earth right now. Too much unrest: people need to take more naps. Please, do it for the children.
9. Though some museums may be created or designed with divine intent, there still may not be anything intelligent to be found in them.
1. If you are openly homophobic, you are definitely gay.
1 1/2. If you are in the Catholic ministry, you might be gay. Only probably possibly gay, though.
2. If you still go out shopping on Black Friday, you are a consumo-tard.
3. If you shout louder than your opponent on TV, you have won the debate, unless he/she then later contradicts you on YouTube and/or their blog.
4. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake anymore, thanks to global warming.
5. Thinking, "Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt" may have made the high school years bearable, but it hasn't made W's reign all that much easier.
6. There's never been a better time to be in stodgy 'Old Europe', with the dollar in the state it's in.
7. It sucks to be in Iraq, be you Iraqi, Kurdish, US Troop, Haliburton employee, or otherwise. The country's just sort of a giant 'suck hole' at the moment, though it appears the GOP are still getting their rocks off there.
8. It kind of just sucks to be anywhere on earth right now. Too much unrest: people need to take more naps. Please, do it for the children.
9. Though some museums may be created or designed with divine intent, there still may not be anything intelligent to be found in them.
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