this i believe

A confluence of circumstances motivated me to finally publish a mantra 30 years in the making.

Those who know me know that it has taken me a long time to believe these things about myself. And that I am usually very modest.

I am smart.
I am beautiful, inside and out.
I am kind.
I am generous.
I am creative.
I am passionate.
I am gifted.
I am compassionate.
I am successful.
I have a good sense of humor.
I love myself.
I respect myself.
I am a good person.
And I am an amazing woman.

indeed

Via PlanetDan

country club ignorance

It's been four years since madmen slammed into the World Trade Center and changed the world. The response to that disaster has been frightening from both a civil liberties and a personal security perspective.

And, the Bush family's response to our nation's most recent large-scale disaster hasn't exactly inspired confidence, either. In case you've been living under a rock, Barbara Bush's comment last week was beyond the pale:

Commenting on the facilities that have been set up for the evacuees -- cots crammed side-by-side in a huge stadium where the lights never go out and the sound of sobbing children never completely ceases -- former First Lady Barbara Bush concluded that the poor people of New Orleans had lucked out.

"Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this, this is working very well for them," Mrs. Bush told American Public Media's "Marketplace" program, before returning to her multi-million dollar Houston home.

On the tape of the interview, Mrs. Bush chuckles audibly as she observes just how great things are going for families that are separated from loved ones, people who have been forced to abandon their homes and the only community where they have ever lived, and parents who are explaining to children that their pets, their toys and in some cases their friends may be lost forever. Perhaps the former first lady was amusing herself with the notion that evacuees without bread could eat cake.

Elizabeth's take on it pretty much sums it up for me.

quotable

"Home is not where you live, but where they understand you."
-Christian Morganstern

"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."
-Maya Angelou (1928- ), African-American poet, memoirist, actress, and civil rights activist.

"Home is where you can say anything you please, because nobody pays any attention to you anyway."
-Joe Moore

Thanks, Brax

how appropriate

As Zach put it, Limbo's a tough place to be.

things i've recently learned about dating

• The other person has just as much on the line as you do.
• You're usually harder on yourself than your partner is.
• Sometimes it's better not to ask if this is "Mr./Ms. Right" for the long-term; instead, ask if you're enjoying yourself right now.
• Ask yourself why you're dating/ what you want to get out of it.
• Most people don't date people to hurt people.
• Vulnerability is a beautiful human quality. Neediness is not.
• Men who are smart/creative as fuck are sexy as hell. But that's not enough.
• Breaking up is hard to do. It's awful, even if you're the one who initiates the break up.

five questions

I recently heard this rubric for determining compatibility with a romantic interest.

1. What kind of music do you listen to?
   Rationale: You need a reasonable amount of aesthetic overlap.
   
2. What religion are you?
   Rationale: Your values need to sync up.
   
3. Are you a vegetarian?
   Rationale: You've got to be able to eat together. And the answer to this question can give you a lot of information about his/her personality.
   
4. Have you ever cheated on [or been cheated on by] your partner?
   Rationale: Someone who has cheated on someone else is likely to cheat on you, too.
   
5. What are your vices?
   Rationale: As with question 1, there needs to be enough overlap for you to get along.

who knew?

Amazon quietly cashes in on sex toy market
Under the heading of Sex and Sensuality, discreetly located under the Health and Personal care section of its US site, Amazon is offering more than 40,000 products, including over 9,000 vibrators and more than 5,500 “sex-enhancers”.

The items are being sold through Amazon under its increasingly important third party retailer business, which accounts for more than a quarter of the items it sells, and which includes mainstream retailers such as Macy’s and Toys R Us.

Amazon says that it reviews the images that third party merchants place on its site, and that they cannot contain nudity, even on product packaging – although a survey of the site indicates that this policy does not extend to realistic representations of body parts. “Descriptions for the various products cannot contain profanity or graphic adult language,” Ms Smith added.

The pages carry some regular Amazon interactive features, such as lists of items recommended by other users, and the opportunity to review and rate products or to write users' guides.

But they do not include the “share your own customer images” feature that appears on Amazon's house and kitchen ware pages. And unlike other pages on the site, they do not send personalised recommendations to the homepage the next time a customer logs on.

firsthand account from the superdome

Paul Harris was my colleague when I worked at UCSD. He was stranded in New Orleans (on vacation, no less) during Hurricane Katrina.

Some of it is upsetting, fair warning…

I arrived Fri. 8/26 in New Orleans. On Sun. 8/28 I was awaiting word from the New Orleans Mayor to see if the city was to be evacuated. The moment he gave the order I hopped in a cab to go to Amtrak and Greyhound. The cabbie said it looks like they’re closed. I said, “no way” and had him drop me off. Sure enough both were. (I later learned that both had closed on Saturday, 2 days before the hurricane. I also learned that people were flown in to the airport on Saturday but not informed that there would not be flights for them to leave on after Saturday.) All rental cars were gone and no hotels or motels seemed to be open.

I knew the Superdome was available for “special needs” people. This meant medical needs, but I walked the block or two and spoke to a police officer who directed me to the other side of the Dome. There I saw about 400 people waiting for the doors to open at noon. I finally got in the Dome around 3:00PM and found “choice” seats. No, they weren’t on the 50-yard line, but I had two seats to myself and was under the overhang in case the roof blew off. Two other guys joined me. I think we were all happy to have the mutual support. Best I could tell is they were Nawlins natives who were homeless, recovering addicts.

I would estimate there were about 10,000 people inside the Dome by the time the hurricane was supposed to hit on Monday morning. Everything seemed to be orderly. An official made an announcement Sunday evening about meals being served by section & people were appreciative. The following two speakers could not be heard. The crowd consisted of many homeless people, drug addicts, families with children and ethnically was probably about 75 - 80% Black, 15 - 20% Anglo, and 5% other. People seemed to be getting along fine and integrating well.

We all sat in stadium chairs that were padded, except for some people who had planned better and brought mattresses and a few, tents. We lined up for food, which took about 45 minutes. It was prepackaged military rations with a pack inside that you add 2 ounces of water to and it heats up the chemicals to warm your entree. It was all fine and I was thankful to have that food and water. Being a vegetarian one would need to hunt around to find veggie packages but it was usually not a problem.

Around 6:20AM was when the brunt of the hurricane seemed to roar through and the electricity went off. There were back up generators but we no longer had air conditioning and only about 50% of the lighting. Two panels of the roof of the dome blew off, each probably about 10 feet X 10 feet and some water was then getting in. Since the winds blew the water horizontally there was not a huge downpour but those seated in some areas had to move. Eventually the water that did get in spread throughout much of the inner lattice-work of the Dome. With the exposed air, you could hear the storm and there were now some fears that all of the roof might blow off. At this point one’s imagination could start to run wild. I would guess that the brunt of the storm lasted for about 6-8 hours?? It was difficult to keep track of time if one didn’t have a watch. To keep busy or amused one could walk around the hallways of the stadium but you were prohibited from going up to the 3rd or 4th levels or outdoors. Still there were plenty of interesting people to see, many of whom could easily have been on the Jerry Springer Show. It was amazing though how many families were there with their children.

Prior to our entry there were Army National Guards present in the building, frisking people and checking all our belongings before we had entered, as well as passing out food and water (2 - 3 times a day). I don’t think it was till Monday afternoon that I saw any military with their AK-47s. The appearance of these were a bit unsettling to many of us, but would later prove helpful. I believe it was Monday afternoon that I first heard an officer say that he expected that riots might break out on Tuesday. I kind of shrugged off his comment as being paranoid. Hours later though, I was thinking along those same lines. What was developing was a mini-society that was starting to mimic William Golding’s classic book, “Lord of the Flies”, about a group of shipwrecked kids who form their own government and means to survive.

Tensions seemed to be rising, rumors and misinformation spread. There was no longer any central communication from the organizers to the residents that could have put people at ease. Simply announcements such as “There is no need to worry. We have tons of food and water”, would have gone far to easing some worries. I personally decided at this point that this was going to be one of those landmark times in my life that I was going to be tested, to learn from the pain, and to grow stronger from it all. More and more I viewed this situation as a combination of a reality show consisting of Fear Factor, Survivor, The Amazing Race, and of course, Lord of the Flies.

We knew that the #1 priority had become search and rescue and not to get us out, which made sense at the time. More and more rescued people poured in to the Dome. You heard horrific stories of people losing family members, of being up to their necks in the water before some volunteer on a small boat saved their life. Tear jerking stories abounded. Our only contact with the outside world was through one or two radio stations that people with boom boxes were playing, but the stations didn’t have muchinformation and were relying on people in the community to report in.

Meal lines began to grow and instead of 45 minutes it was becoming an hour to an hour and a half wait. People began cutting in line and shoving. The military was beginning to lose control and was clearly understaffed. Even though the military was in charge, they seemed to not have any more information than us. And many of the Dome employees and the military had lost everything they owned and didn’t know the status of their loved ones. They too were becoming prisoners in the Superdome and expressed their frustrations at their Commander In Chief not coming to their assistance. We heard talk that we would be getting out Tuesday and buses would vacate us. I can’t remember how many times we heard various false promises. After the hurricane very few cell phones worked I managed to find one working one and offered a woman $10. to call my friend, Keith in San Diego to let him know I had survived. After hanging up I did regret not telling him at that time to please alert all the media possible and my congressperson that a storm was brewing inside and that I too was beginning to realize that hell was going to break loose.

Food lines grew to 2-3 hour waits. There was little control over them and shoving matches broke out. There were some people who were the scum of the earth inside that Dome but the vast majority were good, law-abiding, caring individuals of all nationalities and races. Still we all knew that we had to get out of there soon as we were going stir crazy. The toilets had all filled up with waste. I do not exaggerate when I say that every toilet on first and second floor was overflowing their rims with fecal matter. Urine permeated the floors and was tracked up and down the hallways by thousands of people. Elderly and families with young children were forced to sleep for days on cardboard soaked with urine and feces on the tile floors. What began as a place of rescue was turning into Alcatraz Prison. We could not leave. We could not escape the horrific odor of human waste that spread throughout the building. People were smoking in the bathrooms. People on respirators and with asthma had to endure this killing behavior of others. More people poured in to the Dome and still no good communication other than hearsay about what else, “the buses were on the way.”

We then heard that the levee had broke. We also heard that a man had either been shoved or committed suicide inside the Dome. Rumors took on a life of their own. We heard that a 10-12 year old girl had been raped. Either the general assumption or the spoken word was that it was a black man raping a white girl. Was this merely a reflection of the general racism existing in America or was it fact? Then we heard that he had raped two young girls. Then we heard he had either broken their necks or slits their throats. Then we heard it was a white man on a black girl who committed these atrocities. To this day I still don’t know the truth.

People usually left their belongings where they were sitting when one would go the bathroom or the food line. You would either trust your neighbors or didn’t really care because by this time you just wanted to survive. I kept my wallet and camera in my front pockets at all times as they were my most valuable possessions. Everyone by Tuesday morning was complaining about why people outside couldn’t hear our pleas. Why in the world was no one rescuing us? Why wasn’t there better planning? Why was the military so woefully understaffed? Why did we believe we would run out of food and water? Why couldn’t someone pump or even dig out the fecal waste from the toilets? Why hadn’t FEMA had thousands of busses lined up in neighboring states waiting to come in and take us out? Why didn’t the medical facilities have medicine after the first day? Why couldn’t the military recreate the Vietnam airlift to save us? Why couldn’t we even get some toilet paper?

We all grew more frustrated and angrier and a first year high school sociology student knew that even if someone was not of criminal mind, the average person could only handle stress so much without falling into the temptations of either becoming a looter, cutting in line, a backstabber, or freaking out. What the unpreparedness was creating and then slow response to this situation was a time bomb waiting to explode. I later learned that during a less severe hurricane many years ago, there was rioting that broke out in the Dome. Hadn’t government officials learned their lesson?

To keep busy one tried his/her best to sleep in the chairs. Or you walked around or stood in the food line. The monotony was deadening. I tried my best to amuse myself, look at the positive and tell jokes to keep up the morale of others. I knew that the worst thing was to hang out with negative people or to dwell on the worst-case scenario. I prepared myself mentally for what escape routes I would take if things went crazy, but I did my best not to dwell on these things. I was going to learn some important lessons about human nature and myself from this experience one way or another damn it!! I chuckled to myself when I realized that my friend Nancy Nguy and I had tried out for the Amazing Race TV show and were not selected but in reality I was now living it. Where was Nancy I thought to experience this “wonderful” hellhole? I also laughed when I thought of others who may have joined me on my vacation in New Orleans but decided they couldn’t make it. Would they have hated my guts had I talked them in to this adventure? Ahh, the imagination is a wonderful and powerful tool.

On Tuesday I was approached by Lars from Denmark. He asked if I wanted to join the group from the International Hostel who were sitting together. I thanked them but said probably not. I still felt comfortable with my two boys from the hood. Besides I didn’t want to contribute towards more segregation. A couple hours later I returned to my luggage and discovered that a few pieces of my food were missing from inside the zippered pocket.

At this point I knew that Tim, one of the homeless guys had to have taken it. Had he merely asked I would have shared. I didn’t make a scene at this point but simply told Tim and Kurt that I ran in to some friends from California and was moving from section 149 to 113. They were cool with that; no hard feelings. Days later I was to discover that Tim had not stolen a thing from me. I had put that food in a different pocket. Nevertheless, my mistake may have saved my life. And Lars from Denmark may have save my life. And so many different things that occurred may have saved my life, but by this point I had no hope of any government saving my life.

I joined the International Group made up mainly of 20-30 year old travelers from Britain, Australia, France, New Zealand, Thailand, China, Taiwan, Brazil, Canada and Haiti. Out of about 100, there were three Americans.

From appearance I would say that about 5 of the group were black, 5 were Asian, 2 Hispanic, and the rest white. While I won’t say we stood out in the Dome, if it was better lit, we definitely would have. I still had mixed feelings that we should not be creating our own island, so I sat near the group but integrated myself with a black family on the outside fringe area. After word of the rape, the International Group decided that the males in our group would surround the females in our group. I thought this was a bit paranoid, but I agreed to relocate slightly.

Late Tuesday a few people were starting to break into vending machines and even to concession stands to steal ice. It wasn’t total anarchy but things were definitely sketchy. But the saving grace was that we could go outside for fresh air. The military seemed to be just as upset as all of us were over us being abandoned and not knowing if we’d get out in 2 days or 2 weeks or would starve to death. Our intensity of anger towards FEMA and the Administration understandably grew. We truly believed that we might die because of inaction and lack of planning. Spoken and unspoken, most of us knew that if our resources and soldiers were not in Iraq, we would have had more than enough support for our troops.

Fortunately a Staff Sergeant Ogden saved our group of 100. I am thankful beyond belief for the work he did in arranging to get us out. I do not know if he did this because he liked us or he knew we were in danger or if it was racism or if he realized that if one of the International students was raped or murdered that would be a huge embarrassment for President Bush. I may never know the motivation but I was happy to find out that we would be somewhat secretly escorted out by armed military to a different location. My mind filled with so many different thoughts. What right did we have to leave when many of these people had families with them? What right did we have to leave when we weren’t even Orleanians? What right did we have to leave? We felt pain for the people left behind. We knew they were living in hell. We cried for them internally but were jubilant that we were leaving. We were told not to talk to anyone, not to smile and to just walk in a single line. I felt the Israeli army was saving us after being held hostage. My vivid imagination said it was “Raid on Entebbe” all over again. We were told that a riot could break out once others left behind caught wind of our “favoritism”. We did make it out through some stressful moments.

We were escorted to the adjacent basketball arena next where we helped with the “emergency room” set up for patients brought there. Our work was incredibly sad, but we knew it was needed and brought us some peace. The next day we were “smuggled” out to the Hyatt Hotel, where we encountered more scary moments where we thought we might die. A woman rushed into the hotel screaming, “They’re here, they’re here!” We ran in fear practically creating a stampede. It was a false alarm and we were admonished for freaking out.

It was there, at the Hyatt where about 25 members of the International group, almost entirely white, stole beer from behind the bar with crazed abandon. I heard a black woman from another group say in anger, “Your group is filled with looters!” The words struck a chord and were right on! And the full circle of the Lord of the Flies had come to pass.

Later two others of our group surreptitiously returned a tray of brownies they had stolen from the Hyatt Hotel.

Finally we made it out of the Hyatt under armed guard after more false hopes. We wrote our thoughts on plywood inside the Lobby. Many of these involved our thoughts towards the Federal Government and how their inaction had almost lead to our deaths and positively led to the mental illness and deaths of many others. There was zero question about this point.

On the journey to Dallas the bus in front of us overturned and one person died and 17 were injured. Our bus driver saved people from that bus and was one of the many heroes in all of this. Would the nightmare ever end?

Please, treasure your loved ones. Be prepared for disaster. Know yourself. Know who you are capable of becoming.

Love,

Paul Harris
4802 Kesling Court
San Diego, CA 92117
858-277-8262
harris4802@earthlink.net
Via Declan

no such thing as a bad day

Toastmasters CTM speech originally given on Sept. 8, 2005.
Award: Best speaker

---

Gentlemen, please count off, and will every second man please stand up? (Remain standing.) Ladies, please count off, and will every third woman please stand up? (Remain standing.) I've asked you to do this to visualize the following: The American Cancer Society estimates that one in two men and one in three women will develop cancer in their lifetime. When I was 28 years old, I became one of those Americans.
(Please be seated.)

Like many people, I made a New Year's resolution in 2003 to get healthy and lose some weight. I started exercising several times a week, taking Pilates, water aerobics, and other classes. That year, I also learned that my 31-year-old friend Vanessa had been diagnosed with breast cancer. So I decided to combine my desire to get healthy with a way to help cancer research and signed up for the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that decision saved my life.

Doctor Smiley
I had waited months for my appointment with the specialist. Dr. Smiley – his real name – was a very matter-of-fact man. As he examined me, he asked me why I had come to his office and if I'd recently experienced any aches, pains, or changes in weight.

I told him that I'd felt a nagging pain in the lower right quadrant of my abdomen while exercising. He asked if I'd had any back or flank pain recently and I said that I'd had quite a bit of back pain after a five-mile training walk with my 3-Day teammates the week before. Then he said, "Let's go into my office, I want to show you something."

The "something" was a CT scan taken a few weeks earlier.

He explained that the images in front of me were cross-sections of my body and that there was something very wrong with my right kidney. And then he said the most horrible words I've ever heard. He said that he was very sorry, but in his professional opinion, I had renal cell carcinoma, more commonly known as kidney cancer.

My mind reeling, I stared dumbly as he explained that the good news was that it looked like the cancer hadn't invaded my lymph nodes and that the gerota fascia (the sack in which each kidney is encapsulated) was distended, but had held.

Choices
He then said that I had a few decisions to make about my treatment. I needed to have surgery. Would I prefer a partial or radical (complete) nephrectomy? Laprascopic or open surgery?

I asked about the advantages and disadvantages of each procedure and what he would do if he were a patient with my diagnosis. He recommended the radical nephrectomy, because I had good kidney function and there was less risk of post-operative complication if they removed the whole kidney rather than just the area surrounding the tumor.

He also recommended the open surgery (despite the four- to six-week recovery time) because it meant that my doctors would be able to do a visual and tactile inspection of my lymph nodes and ensure that the cancer had not metastasized to the rest of my body.

He then ushered me out to see his nurse, who gave me the paperwork needed to get my surgery scheduled. Still in shock, I mustered a question – did they have any pamphlets on my condition? He did not but offered to lend me some medical texts. His nurse then said these magic words: "Call the American Cancer Society. They can help."

'Meet me at home, right now.'
I left the office and took my cell phone out to try and reach my husband, Eric. Choking on the words, I said "Meet me at home, right now." I then got into my car and drove the four miles home and called Vanessa, my friend who had been battling breast cancer for the past year. She calmly got online with me and we googled "renal cell carcinoma" and read about it until Eric got home.

He asked all kinds of questions I couldn’t answer and we cried together before calling our families that afternoon to tell them the news. It didn’t get any easier to say the word "cancer" each time I repeated it.

Then, we called the American Cancer Society. They were incredibly helpful, and referred me to the Kidney Cancer Association, which sent me information about what to expect during my surgery and other treatments.

The next few weeks were a blur of emotions and doctor's appointments, lab work, and doing what I could to get ready for my surgery.

I'm remarkable
I've learned that the "typical" kidney cancer patient is male, age 40-60, has been a heavy smoker most of his life, has been overweight for much of his life, and is of African-American or Scandinavian descent.

You do the math. With the exception of battling my weight for much of my life, I’m none of those things.

I'm what you might call a statistical outlier, the exception to the rule. I'm also what you might call lucky.

• Lucky because most kidney cancer patients are diagnosed at stage 3 or 4, when there's almost nothing that can be done to help them. (I was stage 1 when diagnosed.)
• Lucky because I had been exercising a great deal and was healthy going into surgery, so I bounced back in a matter of weeks, rather than months.
• Lucky because my treatment was pretty straightforward: surgery, recovery, and five years of close monitoring with periodic lab work, CT scans, and X-rays.
• Lucky because my five-year survival rate (when I'll be considered 'cured') is 60-98 percent.
• Lucky because my left kidney is healthy and functioning normally.
• Lucky because this week, I am two years years cancer-free.

Survivorship
I'm also lucky because I got a lot wiser about myself and the life I wanted to live at age 28.

Right after my surgery, I picked up Lance Armstrong’s book, "It's Not About The Bike: My Journey Back to Life." In it, Armstrong writes about making the most of one's survivorship. His survivorship has centered on the LIVESTRONG campaign, which has raised awareness and millions of dollars for cancer survivorship.

I also read Hamilton Jordan's book. A three-time cancer survivor, he was President Jimmy Carter’s chief of staff. His memoir, "No Such Thing As A Bad Day," pretty much sums up my attitude.

Those two books inspired me to think about what I would do with my survivorship and how I wanted to change my life. And boy did I change it … in the past two years, I've beaten cancer, survived a divorce, and lived in Paris. I've advanced in my career by changing jobs and employers, bought my first home, and become a graduate student.

What I can't do
There are lots of things I can't do because of my medical history. I can't join the foreign service or the Peace Corps. I can't get life insurance. I can't take calcium or vitamin C supplements. I can't take Advil or most pain medication. And I can never be self-employed, because getting medical insurance is pretty much out of the question with a pre-existing condition like mine. [Update: Thank goodness for the Affordable Care Act.]

What I can do
But there are even more things that I do precisely because of my medical history:

• I take much better care of the body that I've been given. Since my diagnosis, I've lost nearly 80 pounds. I exercise at least four times a week. And I do my best to eat right and buy organic foods whenever I can.
• Every day, I tell people how much I love and appreciate them. I also make time for those I love. The result: I am rich in experiences and friends.
• I am mindful of leaving a legacy, and making the world better for having been here. In short, I do all that I can to make a difference now.
• I do my best to avoid negativity and negative people because both are poisonous.
• I focus on what's in my power to change for the better. And have learned to live with the things I can't influence.
• I don't put off doing things that matter to me, like traveling. And I've made a point to expand my worldview, to live abroad, and to travel extensively.
• I constantly take classes and seek knowledge.
• I seek balance in my work and personal lives and safeguard my mental and emotional health.
• I take more risks and am more spontaneous.
• I live passionately and joyfully.

Every day is a gift
I do all of these things because I got the gift of perspective when I was 28. I took the time to decide what I wanted from life and what I wanted out of my life. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we all should take the time to take care of ourselves and our relationships. I think of it this way: my new year’s resolution was really a goal, a promise that I made to myself to get healthy in 2003. That goal literally saved my life. So I ask you:

• Are you living the life you want?
• And are you focusing on the light, rather than the darkness?
• What promises will you make to yourself (and keep), starting today?

calm in the storm

Talk about impact.

This image, from a Red Cross shelter at the Houston Astrodome, blew me away. She's clearly a child (witness the fuzzy bunny backpack), yet she's doing a very adult thing.

unexpected

Friday's ho-hum night out was 180 degrees different than Laura and Aaron's wild party Saturday night. Interesting people and conversations, surprising revelations, and alcohol were plentiful. Suffice it to say that I didn't get home until after 7 a.m. Sunday morning.

Four hours later, I was off to LACMA with Sarah and Elbert to enjoy the Treasures of Tutankhamun, André Kertész retrospective (Washington Square Park, 1954 pictured at right), and the preternatural Albrecht Dürer engravings and woodcuts. Later, I made a spontaneous trip to Jivewire with 'Jerry' and Mrs. Z. and fortuitously reconnected with George, Ticey, and Jamie.

Today, I let my body begin to recover from a weekend of fun and sleep deprivation. Then, it was off to lunch with Tony before going into work for a bit and dropping some duckets at IKEA with the roommate.

And not so unexpectedly, I'm quite behind in my reading and homework for Org. Behavior.

quotable

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."
-Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), Anglo-Irish poet, novelist, dramatist, and critic

Or so I've been told.

on mental health

Forget how it used to be, and play by the new rules.
Or just forget the rules altogether.

sober september

One of my friends has vowed to be alcohol-free in September.
This is no small thing, because the individual in question loves an adult beverage as much as (if not more than) the rest of us.

In working/ studying WB dates surfing burning music dharma healthy eating water a.m. bike rides/hikes confidence

Out drinking MTV group bar-hops not surfing buying music every other religion wheels of cheese soda a.m. hangovers pity parties

vices

I'm addicted to photography, travel, and funny hats.

I enjoy good food (especially sweets) and alcohol.

Also, I have corrective tourette's, care far more than I should about what others think of me, and hold others to the same standards to which I hold myself. Oh, and I'm super-literal.

death by caffeine

According to Energy Fiend, it will take 260.87 cans of Diet Coke to kill me. Likewise, eating 11,739 Hershey's Kisses will do me in.

But to be honest, at that point it would be a merciful release, because I would (presumably) be passed out from the puking that would ensue if I ever attempted it.
Via Diana

no one can say they didn't see it coming

"No One Can Say they Didn't See it Coming" By Sidney Blumenthal, Former Clinton Advisor

In 2001, FEMA warned that a hurricane striking New Orleans was one of the three most likely disasters in the U.S. But the Bush administration cut New Orleans flood control funding by 44 percent to pay for the Iraq war.

So what were the other two disasters?
A massive earthquake in SF, and a terrorist attack in NYC. I think the funding for one of those might have been increased a bit since then.

Also, here's an article from Scientific American in 2001 that predicts exactly what just happened in New Orleans.
Via ksanti

nighthawks

If you're into night photography, check out nighthawks, a blog about photos, news, ideas, and commentary.

this is a shoutout to water-throwing pessimists everywhere

We all need a water-throwing pessimist (or two) in our lives.

You know the one — the friend who's a reality check and says what you probably didn't want to hear, but definitely needed to. This is the friend you consult on sticky subjects like matters of the heart. And the one you ask these fun questions:
-Is he really that into me?
-And (after the break-up that blindsides you) what's the proper way to move on emotionally?
-Later still, how do you handle loneliness if you're someone who hates "me-time"?

Thanks to my personal WTPs. I'll be back for your advice on Stratego, arpeggiation, and brokering peace in the Middle East. Or maybe I'll just stick to subjects you actually know something about...

These are for you:
Q: Why does Snoop Dogg carry around an umbrella?
A: Fo' drizzle.

Q: What does Snoop Dogg use to get his whites white?
A: Blee-atch!
Snoop Dogg jokes shamelessly nicked from nerdboy

focusing on the light

I heard American politicians describe Katrina as "our tsunami" and "our Hiroshima" and rolled my eyes. The simple fact is that Katrina is neither in terms of the scope of death and destruction. Tsunami: 310,000 dead; Hiroshima: 120,000 dead.

But I thought that this comment, from Scott Cowen, the president of Tulane University (in New Orleans), was worth sharing:

It is difficult to describe what this situation feels like for those involved. It is surreal and unfathomable; yet, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Our focus is on the light and not the darkness.

kermit turns 50

I need an antidote to Tuesday's events. So here goes.

Kermit the frog and the Muppet Show are among my happiest childhood memories. I even sang "Rainbow Connection" in elementary school chorus.



A creation of the late puppeteer Jim Henson, Kermit made his earliest appearances in the mid-1950s on the Washington, D.C. show "Sam and Friends." He became a household name in 1971 on Sesame Street as a news reporter interviewing nursery rhyme characters.

Jim Henson chose Kermit as his signature character because the puppet was the lightest in weight, and thus the most comfortable to use for extended periods of time.

The prototype Kermit was created from a green ladies' coat and two ping-pong balls for eyes. The early Kermit was a sort of lizard-like creature; his first appearance as a frog was in the television special "Hey Cinderella" in 1969.

Quotes:
"It's not easy being green."
"Hello, Kermit the Frog here with the Sesame Street news."
"Hi ho. Kermit the Frog here."

Actually, this whole 50th birthday thing is a ploy to sell the new Muppet Show - Season One (Special Edition) DVD. But if it takes you to your happy place, so be it ...
Via Wikipedia

numb

While at the gym tonight, I saw images of the damage from hurricane Katrina, and miles of houses underwater in New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. I recoiled at the devastation and how powerless people are in the face of nature.

On my way home, while stopped at a light, I noticed the car in front of me rocking. That's because a very large man in the passenger seat was beating the hell out of a child in the back seat. There's no doubt in my mind that the child was being abused. And I'm queasy when I think about how powerless I am to do anything about it and the sick, sick part of human nature that compelled the man to do what he did.

star war in engrish

I watch a lot of foreign films and often wonder what gets changed and/or lost in translation.

Here's what happened with the Chinese version of Star Wars: Episode 3 subtitled in English. It's funny, even if you're not a Star Wars fan.


Via Georgia

have you seen this monkey?

The pants are a great detail. But what's with the K.F.C.?

Missing: 2 ft., 8 lb. monkey wearing blue pants
The bulletin issued by police in the southwest Ohio town of Springdale describes the subject as two feet tall, weighing eight pounds, clad only in blue pants and prone to sleeping in trees.

Dillion, a circus monkey, fled into a nearby woods early on Monday after being frightened by a train whistle from tracks near where the circus was performing in Springdale, in northern Hamilton County.

Trainer Philip Hendricks, who is part of the Hendricks Brothers Circus, says Dillion, who has a white face, brown body and is wearing a leash, is usually confident in new surroundings but the train whistle sent him scurrying.

The circus is leaving town Thursday morning and Hendricks is worried that his monkey won't be found before then.

Hendricks suggests that anyone who spots Dillion try to lure him with food. He's fond of apples, oranges, nuts, berries -- and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

triviablog rules!

The first rule of Trivia Blog is - you do not talk about Trivia Blog.
The second rule of Trivia Blog is - actually, go ahead and talk about Trivia Blog.
Third rule of Trivia Blog, someone gives the correct answer, the question is over.
Fourth rule, answers go in the comments section.
Fifth rule, one question at a time, fellas.
Sixth rule, no google, no cheating.
Seventh rule, questions will go on as long as they have to (i.e. 24 hours).
And the eighth and final rule, if this is your first night at Trivia Blog, you have to comment.

coolest neighbors evah

Z and Mrs. Z just moved in next door. We've got the same pro-choice, anti-war, pro-environment, John-Stewart-is-a-genius, i-did-not-vote-for-bush-wristband politics and they love my dog. 'Nuff said.

And they told me about get your war on.

me gusta tu sombrero

Photographic evidence of the French Connection at Saturday night's house party.
Mes gens savaient comment faire de la fête! Vous aimez mon chapeau, non?

Becki, how is that you always manage to take a picture of me in a funny hat at parties?!

when you really need the iliad

Forget about Coke and smile. Now, you can have a twix and "The Iliad," no matter what time it is.
(I read about this on Parisist and finally found the story in English. )

Can't Wait for a Book? Paris Can Help
Readers craving Homer, Baudelaire or Lewis Carroll in the middle of the night can get a quick fix at one of the French capital's five newly installed book vending machines.

Stocked with 25 of Maxi-Livres best-selling titles, the machines cover the gamut of literary genres and tastes. Classics like "The Odyssey" by Homer and Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland" share the limited shelf space with such practical must-haves as "100 Delicious Couscous" and "Verb Conjugations."

"Our biggest vending machine sellers are 'The Wok Cookbook' and a French-English dictionary," said Chambon, who added that poet Charles Baudelaire's "Les Fleurs du Mal" — "The Flowers of Evil" — also is "very popular." Regardless of whether they fall into the category of high culture or low, all books cost a modest $2.45.

Inspired by Tess

monkeying around in london

This one's for mes voyous Turk, Trevor, and Nathan.

Scantily clad homo sapiens act natural in London zoo enclosure
Caged and barely clothed, eight men and women monkeyed around for the crowds Friday in an exhibit labeled “Humans” at the London Zoo.

Tom Mahoney, 26, decided to participate after his friend sent him an e-mail about the contest as a joke. Anything that draws attention to apes, he said, has his support.