The Nature of Sleep.

There was a recent article about a new chemical developed that would eliminate the need for sleep.  Used like a nasal decongestant, in animal trials it allowed sleep deprived monkeys to perform just as well as rested monkeys at cognitive tests.  Side effects appear minimal, especially compared to the alternatives (ex- amphetamines such as caffeine) already on the market.  Though it won't be ready for the mass market for at least another decade, the US government is looking towards this research with interest as a solution for pilots on long flights and other jobs that combine grueling hours and intense focus. 

Really?  I mean, really?  Is sleep such a bother?  


My dad, my chauffeur.

I grew up living in my grandparents house, because they lived down the street from my preschool.  Outside of my grans all adults were casual characters that I saw every once in awhile, when someone would pick me up from Gran's and drive me to this other house filled with adults and no toys.  Eventually, I was left there for days, and it dawned on me that this new place was home now.  It dawned on me that this person who drove me places was a parent and, inexplicably, I owned him.  He was my father. 

Most of my memories of dad involved a car.  My school was on the other side of town, so he was often roused at six thirty in the morning to take me to school when I missed the bus.  He dropped me off at Saturday marching rehearsals, and picked me up from after-school Science Olympiad.  He took me to study groups at Christy's house, and waited for me, car idling, when I ran into the library to pick up another source for my history paper.  He drove me to Fresno at  3 AM so that I could attend a "Visit the UCLA Campus!" workshop.  He loaded my things in the car and helped me move to my dorm Freshman year.  Six hour drive to Los Angeles, thirty minutes to unpack, six hour drive back to Stockton- he didn't even stay to have lunch.  

In his life he's tried the following professions: bus driver, semi truck driver, ice cream truck driver.  If the wheel was never invented my dad would be SOL. 

My sister's car is in the shop, and the BMW is on its last legs.  My dad's pick up failed to pass smog so many times that the state paid him one thousand dollars to stop driving it.  My car was considered most likely to survive a trip to my aunt's house this Christmas Eve, so I volunteered to drive.  As Patriarch, my father has never really experienced the freedom from responsibility that comes with not being the designated driver.  He really let loose: glasses of wine in one hand, bottles of Heineken in the other.  Drinks with appetizers, dinner, and dessert.  That evening I poured my dad into the back seat and the rest of our family of five squeezed in around him.  As I'm heading to the freeway, my dad picks his head up from mom's shoulder and says, "Ahhouy, you driving right now, I feel good.  I feel very good about this."  

Me too dad.  



I was really proud of how well I was getting around Los Angeles.  I began to develop a reputation as the go-to gal for directions anywhere.  You know, the person they pass the cell phone to when someone is lost.  

I am back in Stockton, my home town.  I spent eighteen years of my life cutting class here, staying out past curfew here, generally being a wild and crazy kid running the streets here.  So why is it that whenever I step foot outside of the house I  can't find my way to the local Podesto's?  



My wallet, it was found!  I received a very nice letter in the mail from someone who didn't want to leave it with the restaurant.  I am picking it up tomorrow!  Yay!  


The Other Shoe

Over the past ten years or so, I have had maybe 50 Lost Wallet scares.  I've never actually lost my wallet until now.  

As losing wallets go, it wasn't too bad.  It was after a long and full day of pedicures, shopping and farmer's market lunching.  I am relieved that I no longer carry my green card in my wallet- that could have potentially been disastrous.  I am relieved that I did not have my social security card on me- that could have really screwed up my plans for the immediate future.  I canceled my debit card and my one credit card within thirty minutes of its loss, so no identity theft or card fraud.  All I really lost were my two student ID cards (for which I would have had no use after December 14) and about $45 in cash.  Even the cash thing didn't bother me too bad.  Probably because I had accidentally parked my car an hour past the time we paid for on the Venice meters and we didn't get a ticket (practically impossible, especially on Sunday Farmer's Market).  

Besides, I was in too good a mood.  You would be too if you spent part of your day doing this: 


Learning curve.

I am a very trustful person.  My philosophy?  Trust a person until they give you a reason not to trust them.  It was a world view that was endorsed by my parents, and they live very happy lives with several wonderful close friends and family members to lend credence to the validity of this idea.  

I've been burned a couple times- a few roommates dent my car, a few buddies don't pay back money owed- but nothing as to make me genuinely regret living my life so recklessly.  

Until tonight.  

Should I have lent a near complete stranger my ID so that his underaged friend could get into O'haras?  Probably not.  However, he seemed trustworthy enough, and even left his wallet in my care as collateral.  I expected him back within minutes, with my ID and his thankful friend in tow.  After about twenty minutes, the crew wanted to leave, and so I went to track him down to get my ID back.  Obviously his friend flaked;  if she wants to get in later, she'll have to find another ID to use.  

He refuses my multiple requests to give me back my ID, saying only that he is trying to contact his friend.  "Dude, your friend is just going to have to find another ID to pawn off as her own." "I am trying to help you out here." "Wait, what?  You don't have my ID?" "...No."  

Apparently he gave my ID to his friend and walked off.  I suppose he assumed that the friend would be able to find me based on the highly miscolored and dated photo of me on the license.  He probably should have realized that his friend would go home with one of the frat boys celebrating Generic Sport Game Victory.  What with all the moaning and groaning, she can't hear his phone ring and rendezvous with us to return my license.  At this point I am a little upset.  

"You mean to tell me that you were irresponsible enough to let someone walk off with the ID of the person who is in possession of your entire wallet?  How much of an idiot are you?  You find my license NOW.  There is no excuse for such stupidity, such lack of responsibility, such absence of follow through- No, I will not calm down.  No, you shut up!  You have no right to try and shush me you fucking idiot!" 

Lydia Ma is a godsend.  She got me to calm down, she got Fucking Idiot to calm down. At this point, she negotiated a deal.  Fucking Idiot will give me his ID and passport (he is an exchange student from Spain).  I will hold these items hostage until he presents me with my ID.  Off I went to fume at Brew Co (where I subsequently lost my favorite jacket a few hours after this ID debacle).  The rest of the night was spent speculating about what I'd do with the money I could make selling Fucking Idiot's passport and ID.   

Luckily for him, he managed to recover my ID and find us before we left for home.  It turns out that Fucking Idiot was actually a kind of nice guy who is an excellent friend to his friends.  

But yeah, that's the last time I lend my driver's license to a foreign stranger in an attempt to aid and abet the corruption of a minor.  Just can't trust people to follow through in this situation.  


One week post- Wedding.

I lost five pounds for the wedding. I am pretty sure I gained it all back this weekend. A few contributing factors to my weakening self control:

-Food is a reward for me. I ate prime rib to congratulate myself on a job well done. It was a culinary pat on the back for the walking and flower holding and champagne drinking I did.

-Food is a rejuvenator for me. I had my first round of exams the past few days so there was lots of caffeine and lots of sugary junk food to keep me going. My personal favorite? A Honey Wheat from Stan.

-Food is a comfort for me. I curled up on the couch and tucked into a huge bowl of stew and short ribs straight from the crockpot. Slow cooked food reminding me to slow down.


Loving It.

The past few days have been pretty darn amazing. Old roommate Espy and Lauren got married on Friday, and I was lucky enough to be invited to participate in the wedding as bridesmaid.

I drove to Burbank to pick up the bridal party for a 10 am hair appointment. I killed time studying here:

I found this in my mocha, which is a pretty good way to start a wedding day:

A little bit clearer than the Jesus on toast phenomenon.

Pictures of the wedding are forthcoming- this is pending permission from the bride. Suffice it to say that the groom was handsome, the bride was beautiful, and by the end of the night it was clear that both of them would do anything for love (they would even do "that").



"When you were in high school, where did you see yourself in ten years?"
"Married and pregnant."

I honestly believed that I was going to be one of Stockton's young mothers. When we saw the young mothers with her baby in the high school day care center, I would ask young boyfriend jokingly "Can we have one of those?" He always knew that I was joking less than my tone suggested, and just said "Maybe later."

I look back now and wonder why I wanted that baby so badly. It wasn't because I thought I was mature enough for a baby. I didn't have my own home (heck, I didn't even have my own room in Stockton). I didn't have a job. I didn't have a line of credit. I had an S-Mart Foods membership card, but I figure that would probably not make any top ten "Must Have for Baby" magazine lists.

It wasn't because I was in a happy stable relationship. If we were happy, it was an "on average" happy- if you looked at the wild ups and downs of the relationship, you could take the mean of the given values of happy over the three years we were together and conclude that yes, this relationship was happy. In the same way that the temperature in Death Valley is, on average, rather tepid.

Leaving high school and venturing into the murky future of "What's next?" is scary. Even the simple idea of going to college was complicated with questions of which college, which major, which concentration. After twelve years of having my life dicated by the Stockton Unified School District, I was being let out on my own. It must be what lab animals feel like when member of PETA release them back into the wild- right before they get eaten by something that wasn't hand raised by humans.

Children tend to give parents an amazing sense of purpose- there is nothing that can guide a person more than the task of devoting eighteen plus years of your life to raising a functional, productive member of society. Life would have been much harder had I given in to my first impulse to have a child- but it would have been so much simpler. The next eighteen years of my life would have been decided and all I would have to do was live it.

Instead, life is complicated. Life is full of which job, which degree, which future- all choices that I have to make, all choices that I have to live with. And always, once I make one decision, there is another one I need to make right around the corner. After deciding against having a baby at the glorious age of eighteen, I find that I am happier for the choice that I made then, and for the choices that I make today.

Life is nothing but the choices that we make.


I got tagged (and it's Contagious!)

The Rules:
We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.

Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

My Eight Facts/Habits

1. I don't have a desk at home for my laptop, so when I'm IMing you, or sending you and email, or reading online comics, it's usually from bed. I am lying prone, and my lappy is on my chest and I type with my hands near my face. If you remove the laptop, I look a little bit like an overturned turtle, or like the dead squirrel I saw in front of Mike G's place a couple days ago.

2. I used to spend tons of money on groceries, and then go out to eat. A couple of lifestyle changes have helped to curb this expensive and wasteful habit. Both changes focus on making food fun- I go out to the farmer's market every weekend, and I make bento box lunches for work. Farmer's market has good food, free samples, people watching, and all sorts of other wholesome shenanigans. To prevent food boredom, I make sure that I buy something I've never tried before. This Saturday I picked up some French purple potatoes and some sort of carrot-parsnip hybrid. The bento box makes packing lunch fun. I try to keep it fast by making portionable food over the weekend and freezing it. I also buy a lot of bento sized packaged foods I can just zap in the microwave or throw in my lunch bag in the morning- potstickers, diced squash, edamame, and sesame sticks come to mind.

Since I started doing this, I think I've saved at least a hundred dollars a month on my food bill. I think I'm even eating healthier. Last time I went out to eat I have Chili's southwestern egg rolls. I usually can put those away with minimal effort, but after two bites nausea set in fast.

3. I sleep with an elephant. I've had it for four years. It is my constant companion.

4. I like to read books, but often I'll opt to re-read an old favorite or a book I vaguely remember from my childhood than try a new one. They're less likely to disappoint. I recently picked up "Seven Brides and Seven Brothers," a fairy tale from Iraq I remember reading in the fifth grade.

5. The Root Cellar by Theodore Roethke is my favorite poem.
Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,
Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates,
Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes.
And what a congress of stinks!
Roots ripe as old bait,
Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich,
Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.
Nothing would give up life:
Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.

A close second is Langston Hughe's Mother to Son. I actually choreographed a dance to Mother to Son. I've never performed it, or shown it to anyone, but it's still in my head.

6. I sing along to songs on the radio. That's prolly one of the main reasons why I like driving by myself more than driving with passengers- I guess it's rude to suddenly spit "Baby Got Back" rhymes when someone is small talking to you about that weird dream they had the other night- or maybe it was yesterday?

Often I don't know the words, so I make them up as I go along. It gets to the point where I have completely forgotten that I made those words up in lieu of the actual lyrics, and I passionately argue with folks about lyrical content ("No, guys, it's totally 'I hope you Pray,' not 'I hope you Dance.' Don't be lame."). My lyrics are usually way better than the original. Trust. I'll prove it to you next time I give you a lift.

7. I once painted the house of a guy I was dating in an effort to get his mother to like me. Suffice it to say I will probably never ever do anything like that again.

8. I think ages 18-30 are when fuck ups are most forgiveable. Not just little fuck ups like "oops, I forgot to take out the trash." The big fuck ups like "Ooops, I majored in something I didn't care for and have wasted 30,000 dollars I don't have on a career I won't be pursuing." I definitely have had my share of fuck ups. I'm currently paying for all the things I've fucked up in the past, and I go forward in life certain that I will fuck up several more times in more debilitating ways. Strangely enough, I don't think I've ever been more at peace with my life than I have been these past few weeks.

I'm going to go ahead and not tag anyone in particular. If you want to participate, go ahead and leave a comment saying you've posted- I'd love to see which parts of your life you think are worth posting.


Big mistakes.

I made the utterly huge mistake of borrowing Stan's copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The book was very satisfying, it answered a lot of questions, it was very NEAT. All and all, a great read. Why the huge mistake?

I didn't sleep last night. I started reading at around 10:30 pm and didn't finish until a little less than eight hours later. Work is going to suck soooooooooooooooo bad.

I am going to do a post about how the Harry Potter series and I are a lot alike- we appear to have grown up a bit, but at the core, we are still the same as where we started over a decade ago. But not right now. Right now, I have to focus on being functional for the next eight hours before heading to bed and crashing tonight.


Creative experiment.

Yumi and I have a new blog to chronicle our latest creative experiment- check us out!


Perfect Saturdays

I had a weekend that would have been very difficult to have outside of Southern California- we swam in 70 degree water, the breeze coming off of the ocean kept the brilliantly sunny day pleasant and cool, the burgers and dogs were perfect, and I caught at least half of the frisbees thrown at me! I even got to rent a bike and (for the first time in years) go for a bit of a ride! Someone brought a little stereo so we could listen to music while we toasted s'mores over a crackling bonfire. It was, all in all, perfectly Californian. Perfectly perfect.


Zig a Zig AH

:) I can't wait for December 7.


New Courses.

There were days in high school where I didn't eat food, because I felt physically full from reading a really good case study for history class, or from a lively discussion in TOK. I wondered if I would always be that hungry for information.

College was that drowsy feeling you get after Thanksgiving dinner- I really shouldn't have taken that second language course, maybe that double major was a bad idea. I could only regurgitate so much for tests before I grew sick of it. I graduated with a B.A. in Psychology and scholastic indigestion.

It took me about a year to recover from sixteen rigorous years of academics, but I finally have that feeling again- the starving need to sit down in a lecture and just consume everything presented to me. Knowledge is, again, something to be seasoned, savored, devoured.


It's easier to feel infinite at sixteen.

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite." --Perks of Being a Wallflower.

High school was where I lived. When I think about my time at Franklin, I remember those years of my life as feelings, sensations:

-Josh Holland driving the girls home after a midnight prank gone awry. Carol and Jen rode in the truck bed, blankets tucked up to their chin. The wind whipped my hair out of the little window in the back of the truck, and my neck got cold.

-My name announced at the Academic Decathalon junior year. I was numb and didn't realize that my team mates had pushed me on stage until I felt the gold medal around my neck.

-Feeling people whoosh by me as Aidan and I swing a circle on the dance floor. My prom skirt kept catching on my heels, ripping the hem- I didn't care.

-Listening to the ocean outside of my tent, huddled against my ten classmates to keep out the chill. I can hear them breathing, feel them shivering.

College was where I grew. I came to UCLA and almost cried. I will never again drive down 8 mile road looking for the bonfires. I will never again cut class to get lost in San Franciscto. I will never again stand on a stage out of breath, my friends applauding me for the hours of rehearsal I put into my senior dance show. Life was now stories and scenes, memories like movie clips, flat and spotty. Over four years, my mind grew numb from memorizing facts and figures and statistics. My fingers learned to fly over keyboards, and forgot how to draw meandering designs over the palm of my hand. I learned how to down sidecars and mocha lattes, and forgot how comforting a cup of cocoa was. I grew resigned that I would never feel moments of amazing anymore.

After nearly five years, I finally had a moment in Los Angeles. Driving down Wilshire with my window rolled down, serenading at the top of my lungs barely remembered lyrics to the other car. The other driver, my emotional twin, is singing along, laughing and keeping pace with my erratic steering. I sang until my throat hurt. I wanted to reach out and grab her hand, and say thank you.

College is over, and I can live again.


Yahoo Music is Racist.

I mean it! I use Yahoo to stream music while I'm at work, and I can rate music to determine what songs my "personalized radio station" will play for me. I've been enjoying my Nina Simone, my Eric Clapton, my Jamiroquai. I'm filing away with Hendrix killing it in the background. All of a sudden, what? Who the hell is this fool?

Anyone ever heard of Notorious MSG? Apparently he has mastered such hits as "Dim Sum Girl" and "Egg Rollin." How do I know? Because Yahoo felt it necessary to play for me not one track but TWO songs from this guy within an hour. An hour! What logarithm deduced that because i enjoy Fleetwood Mac I must also find this desperate culture exploiter a good listen? Is it because my last name is some sort of Asian? Do people who normally listen to feel good tunes from the sixties and seventies also enjoy enlightening lyrics such as "hong kong fever the son of sam/try to catch me if you can/i killed ten people with a frying pan."

This is some sort of crock, a crock I say!


Sassy Car Review: Honda Fit

My very first car was a 1994 Acura Integra. My second car was a 1996 Honda Accord. I had a trifecta in mind when I was looking at the Honda Fit. It was at the very top of my short list pre-test driving. It was fuel efficient, roomy, the price was pretty good, and the reviews were great. My test drive confirmed what everyone was saying: this car does not drive like a subcompact. It accelerated smoothly, it changed gears without any fuss, it had very responsive handling. It even had a tiptronic-style transmission that lets you change gears (similar to a manual transmission) for sorty driving. So what was wrong? A list:

1. I am easily offended.
I only had two less-than-stellar experiences while looking for a car, and they both happened at Honda car lots: one in Santa Monica and one in Carson. In Santa Monica, there was only 1 Fit left and it was in the showroom: I was told that I would pretty much have to guarantee I was buying the car to even test drive it. Neveryoumind how that defeats the purpose of a test drive. The sales person was also very condescending and rude.

I was finally able to test drive the car in Carson, and the person helping me was very gracious and informative. However, as I was waiting for his business card, someone else started giving me the hard sell! Um, ew! I was immediately defensive and probably more than a little rude to Hard-Sell guy, but I really really really didn't like him. And he made me really really really unwilling to purchase a Honda Fit.

2. I am cheap.
The Honda Fit performs exceptionally well in its class. Its MSRP made the Honda Fit a bargain. If I could have gotten the car at MSRP, it would have been a serious contender. If I could get it at invoice, I probably would have driven home in a Fit. Why on earth would a car lot put a $2000 premium on a car for which one of its selling points is incredible value for the dollar?!

People who buy subcompacts buy them because they are cheap cars. The premium made the Honda Fit financially comparable to cars in a higher class. Honda dealerships managed to alienate the frugally minded people that would consider the car by hiking the price, while failing to add enough extra oomph to lure in those more inclined to spend a little more on their ride. Boo on you Honda. Boo on you.

3. I am shallow.
The Honda Fit was at the top of my short list. However, my short list was still pretty considerable. Why did I keep looking for other cars to test drive, if I thought the Honda Fit was going to be the car for me? Honestly? It's a little ug. It's like a mini-minivan, but without the Rockwellian charm. It's got high bits to compensate for short bits and it's got a beaky front and a bulky backend. Sure I would have fun driving it, but would I want to show it off to people I know? Would I want to keep my car a secret from everyone? I don't want a "just friends" car. It wouldn't be fair to the car, and it wouldn't be fair to me. Give me something I'd want to be seen in. A trophy car, if you will.

The Fit was an OK car. On a different day, on a different lot, things may have been different. If we lived life like stories, then rule of three would dictate that I buy this car. I'm glad I didn't. The trifecta will have to wait.


Sassy Car Review: Yaris/Scion xA

I'm reviewing these two cars together because 1) They're both made by Toyota and 2) they have the same drive train, the same guts.

The Toyota Yaris was made for little people. I don't mean that in the, "clinically diagnosed with some form of dwarfism" little people. Just, you know, little. Like me. Usually when I sit in a car, I have to kind of perch on the edge so that my knee can bend over the edge of seat and I can reach the pedals. I didn't have to do that for this sedan.

This is bad if you happen to be taller than 5 feet, 2 inches.

The younger feeling Scion xA was a little roomier, but drove a little worse than the Yaris. This is probably because the xA is a bit bigger, a bit more spacious than its cousin. It made chocking noises as I accelerated into a turn. Also, despite the image that Toyota was going for this car, I don't think it looks or feels young and hip. It kinda looks like Quasi-turtle. I think this car was the least favorite of all the cars I test drove.

Except for the Aveo. Man, fuck that car.


Sassy Car Review: Aveo

Background: I rented a car for my fun-filled Holiday Weekend With the Bro. The agenda included Disneyland, The Grove, Ventura, Santa Barbara, and other assorted points of interest. I am in the market for a subcompact, so I thought that this was a good opportunity to test drive a small car.

I regret this decision now.

Anything that shakes at 60 mph and shudders when a Honda Civic zooms by is not a safe car. Especially if it is displaying all these symptoms with only 40 000 miles to its name. Also, the car would sound a loud CLUNK at the most inopportune times: for example, when I am changing lanes on 110-S in front of a semi. It would like driving the Little Car that Could, except it couldn't.

Don't buy a Chevy Aveo. Also, disown all and any family and friends who own a Chevy Aveo.

...Yeah, I'm not getting a Chevy Aveo. Piece of crap car.


Car shopping.

I have officially obtained a car loan. I am now seriously looking for a car.

This is a pretty adult thing. Why does it make me want to jump up and down like a wee girl?

Anyways, expect Two-Knives to be cruising around in her own wheels by end of March.


Mon frere.

My brother is coming in for President's Day weekend. I'm trying to think of wholesome family-type stuff to do with him for three days, and I'm kinda drawing a blank. He really likes music-does anyone know any fun, music things that a seventeen year old would like?



I have a lot of posts that are listed as drafts. They were never posted, for one reason or another. Going back and reading them gave me all sorts of weird feelings. I wonder what was going through my head at the times that the posts were started. I wonder why I stopped. I wonder if any of this is still important, relevant. A la the fragments of Sapphos, I am going to post them all here, in no particular order.

I really like "Paperback Writer," by The Beatles. It's got everything I need: a catchy tune I can dance to, a chorus that I can sing, and lyrics that appeal to the

My sister and I used to wake up at the buttcrack of dawn (i.e. five thirty in the morning) to watch this awesome cartoon "Sailor Moon." I think that was the only reason I made it to school every day on time- once KTLA stopped broadcasting the anime my attendance went to the pits.

Someone actually took the time to upload all 200 episodes of the Sailor Moon series (including the elusive fifth season, which was never dubbed for the American public, probably due to the three gender-bending special guest characters). I think I may have gotten up once to pee this entire weekend. Otherwise I

Someone asked me recently, "Kim, aren't you about due another relationship?" To which I replied, "There's a time schedule for this type of stuff?"

1. I will not wash your car. If you have given me rides in the past, I will be more than happy to help pay for gas. I will take it in for an oil change for you. I will even pay for the car wash, if it needs it. But I will not wash your car.

2. I will not babysit your children. I will throw the baby shower. I will buy cute little outfits that say cute little things like "Someday I'll get trashed at prom" or "Mother sucker." And if (god forbid) you can't have kids, I will bear the child for you. But I will not babysit your children.

Things I learned while in line for the Nintendo Wii at 3 o'clock in the morning:
  1. Even concrete is comfortable enough to sleep on after a busy day.

This Saturday I had the first Mentorship event of the year (yay!) the second LCC show of the fall quarter, and the LCC afterparty. I was on my feet for about 14 hours straight.

I think best friends were the most awesome thing ever invented. In high school, I had a really tight group of girls whom I absolutely loved.

Post about guy friends

One of my fondest memories of dear old mom is garage karaoke night. My parents had a karaoke system set up in our garage and, let me tell you, it was no passing fancy. Karaoke in our house was a passionate love affair complete with seranades and mood lighting. We have an impressive collection of Cambodian dvds and laser discs (yes, that's how long they've been doing the karaoke thing) and speakers are carefully arranged to give the karaoke-ist the full rock-out-loud-Khmer-style

I think I enjoy directing so much more than acting for the same reasons that I think I will enjoy parenting. I am a firm believer in the "do as I say, not as I do" school of thought.

People are not born dissatisfied.


RIP Punchy

Before I left to start my day today, i noticed Punchy trying to escape her tub. I then noticed that she was getting awfully big, and made a note to escape proof her tub accordingly. In between getting dim sum and attending a lindy swing class, she managed to escape her tub and kill herself. I found her in my roommate's trashcan. I'm trying to figure out what happened. Did she fall in and die on impact? Did she eat something poisonous in the trashcan? Did she eat something poisonous, and then, in her reduced state, fall in the trashcan and die on impact?

I'm a little sad that Punchy is gone, but it's not Chess-sized sad. For one, I didn't own Punchy for as long-mere months. For another, Punchy was a biter. Of everything. Wood, fingers, plastic tubes. She drew blood on a regular basis. However, I am sad. I feel like the Era of the Hamster has come to a close. Gone are the plastic tubs, the colored tubes, the cut wood homes. I tossed all the aspen bedding, and the hamster balls. The apartment is a little bit more empty, a little bit more sterile.

Lindy hop.

If anyone is interested in free lindy swing dance lessons (2:00-3:00 every Sunday in February) please let me know. They're originally forty dollars for a series of four classes- the last one just happened this Superbowl Sunday, so if you think you can make it to the other three, it could be a lot of fun to learn to lindy together. :)


Making myself better.

I've been trying really hard to be more honest with people. I don't know if people are appreciating it, but it's making me feel a lot better for myself. I want to make honesty a habit.


Big Changes

I'm completing the N-400 US Naturalization Form for US Citizenship. Question D: Name Change.

Any suggestions?


Ring in the new year.

All those letter spelling hands were sticky with champagne two hours later.



I like anything that makes science look cool. Because science IS cool! You there, you jerk jock, you shut up!


I've lost my phone. Again.


Don't call it if you need to contact me. Contact me via one of the other ways I can be contacted.

Speaking of contacting me, I put that on these contact cards that I had made for myself, and my cards ended up really dirty sounding! Like I was a call girl and it was my business card. It probably didn't help that the cool red wave design I chose for the background looks like a satin bedsheet.

New Resolution: I must stop getting myself into these awkward situations.