The world will end on January 31, 2873

The gods in heaven and hell were up to mischief on this, the last day of January 2007. Today will go down in history as the day when D.C. Metro police learned to use that newfangled telephone, Boston embarrassed itself in front of the nation, and Flipper became an enemy of the state. From this day forward, January 31 will never be the same for me. Or for the country.

Here is how the day unfolded:

3 a.m. -- Suspicious packages found at Braddock Road station in Alexandria, Virginia.

3:14 a.m. -- Alexandria police call Metro police.

3:18 a.m. -- Alexandria police call Metro police. Again. From The Post: "On the first call, the dispatcher said: 'Hey, I want to double-check -- you have a bomb dog that's going to be assisting there at the Braddock Metro, right?' The Metro police dispatcher 'stated that they did not have a bomb dog assisting' and hung up." Way to build up our confidence, fellas.

5 a.m. -- Virginia State Police team finally arrives, followed by Metro's explosives technicians. Good thing it wasn't a real bomb.

8:05 a.m. -- In Boston, a train passenger notices "what was described as an object with wires and tubes stuck on a steel support girder underneath Interstate 93, about 12 to 15 feet above the bus depot at Sullivan Square Station in Charlestown."

9:26 a.m. -- Suspicious activity reported in the D.C. metro. All trains pull to a stop. In the tunnels. In the dark. With me on board. For the next 15 minutes. Dying in a metro tunnel ranks up there with death by plummeting off the world's most dangerous road.

9:47 a.m. -- A short circuit in an electrical line causes a fire in a D.C metro station ... for the second day in a row. The station closes.

10:48 a.m. -- The station reopens.

10:59 a.m. -- The station closes.

11:40 a.m. -- The station reopens. For real. Promise.

11:00 a.m. -- Visitors in Key West call 911 because a dolphin in a tank surfaced with several items, including one that looked like a homemade bomb. It turned out to be a toy. My question is, who was the person who identified the toy as a homemade bomb? Would you recognize a homemade bomb in a dolphin tank? Not me.

1:00 p.m. -- Meanwhile, back in Boston, the police continue to receive calls about these suspicious objects throughout the metropolitan area.

4:00 p.m. -- City and state officials hold a press conference to quell fears and Turner Broadcasting admits it was a publicity stunt. Turns out, the objects were cartoon characters promoting a new show. Seriously, Boston? You confused a cartoon character giving you the finger with a bomb?!

life's random

A compilation of random thoughts:

Penelope Cruz is a much better actress in her native tongue. I saw the latest Almodovar film, Volver, in which she stars and was blown away. While it's a quirky film, the female-focused characters are touching, strong and entertaining.

My state senator, Patricia Ticer, sits on two of the most interestingly named committees I've ever come across -- the subcommittee of penalties for dog attacks and the subcommittee on waste discharge permits. Um. Seriously, I'm not really sure I'd list those on my resume.

What does one do with 23 kindergarten children? I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out on Tuesday. As a new volunteer tutor for Heads Up DC, I will be working with an afterschool literacy program every Tuesday afternoon in southeast DC. Somehow, I got stuck as the only tutor to help a teacher with 23 kindergarten children. Oh. My. God.

Pythons eat dogs.

It's flammable

Last night was the first IPO of the semester. I was totally looking forward to observing the Gang acting all crazy and promptly sharing the stories with you. Surely, thought I, the first IPO of the semester will provide endless amounts of excellent blog fodder. Except that I ended up being the craziness and only remember half of the night. It wasn't really my fault! I blame it on the 3 gin and tonics. And the 3 shots of I-don't-know-what. And the 3 glasses of champagne. uggghhhh .... The good news is that I should wear that brown dress more often -- men were buying me drinks all night and I received a whole bunch of compliments. Great for the ego and the budget! The bad news is that I got into a fight with an Australian on the street (don't remember any of it) and was hungover all day. Ew.

Needless to say, I wasn't very productive today. I bought folders at CVS. And I put stuff into the folders.

I also set my kitchen sponge on fire. That was definitely the highlight of my day. Now, before you judge me, let me just say that I read an article in this week's Post about a scientific study that showed you can sterilize your sponges by nuking them for two minutes. I figured it would be a good idea to have a germ-free sponge. Unfortunately, while the scientific claim may be true, it is also a fact that sponges don't take well to microwaving. After about a minute and a half, the plastic scrubby layer starts to melt and the insides have been crisped black. In my lethargic state, it took me a few moments to comprehend that a burning smell of plastic and a smoking sponge was not a good combination. In a slight panic, I prematurely terminated the sterilization process and gingerly removed the almost-germ-free sponge, which was now starting to ooze melted plastic and whose corner was completely blackened. It didn't smell so good. Who knew you could overcook a sponge?

Always on top of things, The Post today published an article about other sponges who have met similar fiery demises. It's nice to know I'm not the only irresponsible sponge owner. Schadenfreude!

The 2007 Elections

You didn't know there were a significant 2007 elections did you? Well, as it turns out, the Gang of 100 is electing its very own student administration today and Yours Truly is running for president. Like any good business student I have made the following pledge as part of my campaign:

I pledge to always share juicy stories about the rest of my classmates, no matter how far behind in schoolwork I fall. I shall use what power is bestowed upon me to uphold the rights of business students everywhere, as we are an underpriveleged, oppressed lot. I will faithfully execute the office of president and hereby solemnly swear to understand the difference between LIFO and FIFO.

Bill Cosby wants his sweater back

My professor is wearing a Bill Cosby sweater ... and it practically reaches his knees. I'm waiting for this guy to break out with "Jellllllo puddin' pops!" but he's white. Not sure it would work out so well. I'm trying so hard to pay attention but his teaching style is reminiscent of my middle school days and I find it rather distracting. After all, middle school was a tumultuous time. I think I was still trying to dye my hair blond with a yellow marker.

The SOTU blog

My thoughts as they flowed during the State of the Union address....I didn't start typing until about 9:20, though.

9:00 We see the Supreme Court justices, Cabinet and Joint Chiefs of Staff entering. Everyone looks so friendly and happy! Oh and there's Barack, with Hillary seated right behind him. Madame Speaker! Cool and it's about time. Georgie just told Nancy to get the party started. I wonder if she forget she's supposed to bang the gavel. Interesting -- POTUS didn't start by saying "the state of our union is strong." But he did point out rising wages, low unemployment, 41 months of growth.

9:20 McCain looks old. Another Barack/Hilary shot.

9:21 Is Ted Kennedy drunk or asleep? Ok, so eliminating earmarks is a priority.

9:22 No Child Left Behind ... my ass. Education is the next priority.

9:23 And now he brings out health care..was that a snicker on his face? Is Cheney's tie really iridescent purple? That's awesome.

9:24 Barack is sleeping. Doesn't he know he's splitting camera time with POTUS and She-ra? Hillary's lips are taut.

9:25 Yay Lieberman! You deserved to win.

9:26 How come Michael Levitt gets a screen title and the highest ranking Asian woman in the country doesn't? NBC, you disappoint me.

9:27 Medical liability. Only the Repubs liked that one. Oh, there's John Kerry. Poor guy -- he still wants to run for prez.

9:28 Temporary work visas is now the topic of the hour. C'mon, where's the Dem applause? Another McCain shot. Another Barack/ Hilary shot, new angle though. Good job, NBC. I was getting bored with the closeup.

9:29 Comprehensive immigration reform -- and the crowd goes wiiiiiled!

9:30 Now we need to diversify the energy supply. Did anyone else see the new Ford Edge hydrogen fuel cell car? Too bad it cost them $2 million for the prototype. Hee -- POTUS just said "veeHICKuls"

9:31 Energy reform. Looks like that's another bridging topic. Cheney is either chewing on the stuff stuck in his teeth or he's choking down a smirk about energy reform.

9:33 whoa Prez and VP just took a coordinated drink together. weird.

9:34 oh, Dems don't like what he just said about fast Senate approvals of his Justice appointees. First mention of "terra-ists" so far.

9:36 A shot of the Senator from Maine. Not sure why she's important.

9:37 I find it sad that men can only wear brown, black or navy blue suits. The women get to have all the colors.

9:38 "totalitarian ideology" ... that was a lot of syllables in two words for him

9:39 oh geez. what happened to that man's EYE?! Oh, he must have gotten whacked by the zoom lens of the paparazzi next to him. Another Barack/Hillary shot

9:40 Condi shot. omg, she looks SO MEAN. Is that her default face?

9:44 I don't really ahve words for this long discourse on the mess in the Middle East. Its just sobering.

9:45 The new Iraq strategy is being revealed -- it's the SURGE! I just want him to use that word once. Just once. Pleeeeease?

9:46 Peter Pace shot. I kinda want to touch his uniform. It has lots of colors.

9:47 He says this is the best chance for sucess. For the sake of the troops, for our sake, for the sake of the Iraqis, I hope he's right.

9:49 Joe Biden makes his first appearance on NBC cams. Nothing is more important for this country than securing Iraq. Problem is, that's true. But Pelosi didn't stand for those comments. Interesting.

9:50 Whoa -- did he just acknowledge that we were once united and now we're not? He's asking for a chance to prove that the SURGE! is a good idea.

9:51 He wants to increse by 95000 troops. We have more than 1.6 million active military but still. That's not that many but still ...

9:52 A volunteer reserve military? As opposed to a draft, I suppose. Wait...what do we need them for? Oh, I don't know...how about an Iran invasion?

9:54 Now North Korea gets a mention. Boy, that dictator scares me. And Darfur gets a mention? Another Barack/Hillary shot..but Hil kinda got cut off.

9:55 AIDS in Africa. Bono would be proud. $1.2B to combat malaria in Africa. I just noticed that the Justices aren't clapping or standing. Do they get a reprieve? Lucky them. The SOTU is worse than a Catholic mass with all its stand up/sit down action.

9:56 Dikembe Mutombo!?! Sitting next to the First Lady. That is SO RANDOM. Laura is standing next him but you'd never know it. And they put an Asian woman on his other side. Way to make a tall man look even taller.

9:58 Interesting to call out a women entreprenuer, who happens to be a social entreprenuer too. Women are the fuel of this economy, I tell you.

9:59 Prez points out the Subway Hero. "You da man," is what Wesley Autrey just mouthed to POTUS. I think that might have been my favorite part so far.

10:02 The state of our union is strong! That was a pretty strong finish from the Prez, especially since the rest of the speech was a little...somber. Not nearly as exuberant as I remember last year's address being. But POTUS got 62 applause interruptions and chuckles for his one and only SOTU joke about C-SPAN.

Why my mom is better than your mom

I came home last night to find a package that my mother sent me. Inside was the guitar scale book that I bought in Memphis at the Gibson Guitar factory and a fabulous new shoulder bag with a matching laptop sleeve. Oh, and just for good measure, she threw in a few dried oysters and a handful of dried scallops so that I can now cook one of my favorite Chinese dishes that require these key but hard to find ingredients. It kinda left a fishy smell in the laptop sleeve, but how many of you can say your mother sends you dehydrated sea creatures in the mail?

This freakin' rocks. I love being Asian.

At least it was a good sports week for The Lady V

Yesterday, I watched The Chicago Bears earn a spot in the Superbowl Championship Game. And then I boarded a flight from Boston to Washington and waited on the Logan runway for almost two hours. I hate when that happens. We finally landed in the snowy, icy District (more than two hours late) and I quickly moved to catch a cab. Except that D.C. cab drivers are big fat hairy wussies and the line for a taxi was more than 30 minutes. Seeing as I only live a couple Metro stops from the airport, I decided to take the train, then a cab from the train station. Except that when I got to my home train station, there were no cabs. None. Zip. Bupkus. And when I called the Alexandria Yellow Top Cab Company, I was told it would be a two hour wait. So, I trudged myself and all my luggage through the ice and snow down the 15-minute walk to my house. And then the skies opened up and poured forth cold rain down upon my sorry ass, and made me curse increasingly louder through the streets of Virginia. I formally apologize to my neighbors.

But all that time sitting on the runway, in the air, and on the train made me think about the somewhat drama-filled and awkward weekend I just spent in Boston. (Not that it was all bad -- I witnessed the happy union of two dear friends whose relationship I've seen develop from its infancy. It really is a precious moment to see two people who have chosen each other for all their character strengths and weaknesses finally wed! Congratulations, Beavergrads!) And I met up with a few old co-workers from my Big Red days. We caught up, I shared my latest dating drama and my friend says to me, "Well, you know, you have other dating options too. Remember my friend Tim that you met when I was visiting DC?" "Oh, you mean Tim who was engaged when I met him?" "Yeah, well, he broke off the engagement and thinks you're really cute. He has a thing for Asians so we don't really know why he was ever with that girl." Great. I am so doomed for categorical failure in matters of love. I should use my life as the basis of a tragic TV mini series brimming with sappy dialogue narrated by David Allan Boucher, sell it to Lifetime or Oxygen, and live in the lap of luxury until the end of my days. I actually started writing the mini series in my head while I traveled, calling it My Heart as Football. But instead of being about the messy state of affairs in my heart and love life, it ended up using an inappropriate number of stretched metaphors involving fumbles, bad calls, penetrated defense, multiple (in the) sacks, and physicality on the field. Since I'm not nearly that slutty (even though sometimes I wish it, because I secretly aspire to be the next Washingtonienne), I’m going to spare you that literary pain and just hope The Gang of 100 provides better fodder for your reading pleasure. It’s only the first week of classes, so just give ‘em some time. Something is bound to happen…

America makes me weep

I'm currently watching the season premiere of American Idol.

It's excruciating.

Why do I do this to myself?

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In other news, today was the first day of classes for Semester #2. The Gang of 100 descended once again upon The Duck, in all our student glory -- backpacks brimming with newly bought school supplies, laptops at the ready, Harvard Business Review articles freshly printed, crinkled copies of the Wall Street Journal clutched in our eager hands. We hugged, traded vacation stories, and then got ready for business and headed into class.

Our professor never showed up.

You think I'm kidding. But I'm not. Actually, her absence fueled rumors that she doesn't actually exist. At the time of this writing, we have not received a book list for the class and have not seen any evidence on the school's online "blackboard" that we're actually taking this class. Now, in light of this, I wanted to conduct an experiment. What if we just kept showing up for class at the alotted time and didn't say anything to anyone? How long would it really take for a school administrator to notice? We could even complain about the class workload in the halls, strategically within hearing distance of the administration. It could have been a study in group conspiracy. But no, we have mature people in The G Unit and someone went to dig up the truth. Turns out, the professor thought the class was taking place on Thursday.

I wonder if this happens at Harvard ....

Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind

In church yesterday, I heard an excerpt of a Martin Luther King Jr. sermon, in which he constructed a letter that the apostle Paul might write to America. Although these words were spoken in 1956, I can't help but be awed by how true they remain today. A portion of the letter appears below, but I would encourage you to read Paul's Letter to American Christians in it entirety. On a day in which so much is commemorated and immortalized, let's also remember the man whose passion and ideas were enabled with a Bible in one hand and the Constitution in the other.

I, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, to you who are in America, Grace be unto you, and peace from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

For many years I have longed to be able to come to see you. I have heard so much of you and of what you are doing. I have heard of the fascinating and astounding advances that you have made in the scientific realm. I have heard of your dashing subways and flashing airplanes. Through your scientific genius you have been able to dwarf distance and place time in chains. You have been able to carve highways through the stratosphere. So in your world you have made it possible to eat breakfast in New York City and dinner in Paris, France. I have also heard of your skyscraping buildings with their prodigious towers steeping heavenward. I have heard of your great medical advances, which have resulted in the curing of many dread plagues and diseases, and thereby prolonged your lives and made for greater security and physical well-being. All of that is marvelous. You can do so many things in your day that I could not do in the Greco-Roman world of my day. In your age you can travel distances in one day that took me three months to travel. That is wonderful. You have made tremendous strides in the area of scientific and technological development.

But America, as I look at you from afar, I wonder whether your moral and spiritual progress has been commensurate with your scientific progress. It seems to me that your moral progress lags behind your scientific progress. Your poet Thoreau used to talk about "improved means to an unimproved end." How often this is true. You have allowed the material means by which you live to outdistance the spiritual ends for which you live. You have allowed your mentality to outrun your morality. You have allowed your civilization to outdistance your culture. Through your scientific genius you have made of the world a neighborhood, but through your moral and spiritual genius you have failed to make of it a brotherhood. So America, I would urge you to keep your moral advances abreast with your scientific advances.

I am impelled to write you concerning the responsibilities laid upon you to live as Christians in the midst of an unChristian world. That is what I had to do. That is what every Christian has to do. But I understand that there are many Christians in America who give their ultimate allegiance to man-made systems and customs. They are afraid to be different. Their great concern is to be accepted socially. They live by some such principle as this: "everybody is doing it, so it must be alright." For so many of you Morality is merely group consensus. In your modern sociological lingo, the mores are accepted as the right ways. You have unconsciously come to believe that right is discovered by taking a sort of Gallup poll of the majority opinion. How many are giving their ultimate allegiance to this way.

But American Christians, I must say to you as I said to the Roman Christians years ago, "Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind." Or, as I said to the Phillipian Christians, "Ye are a colony of heaven." This means that although you live in the colony of time, your ultimate allegiance is to the empire of eternity. You have a dual citizenry. You live both in time and eternity; both in heaven and earth. Therefore, your ultimate allegiance is not to the government, not to the state, not to nation, not to any man-made institution. The Christian owes his ultimate allegiance to God, and if any earthly institution conflicts with God's will it is your Christian duty to take a stand against it. You must never allow the transitory evanescent demands of man-made institutions to take precedence over the eternal demands of the Almighty God.

No commentary necessary

Windows in the Skies

Just in case you (like a certain someone I spoke to today) have been living under a rock and haven't seen it.



Haven't yet found a listing of all the musicians who make an appearance in the video.

We bombed Somalia ...

... in order to get those sneaky al Qaeda guys. And one of our submarines crashed into a Japanese merchant ship. And there's a mystery stench settling over Manhattan. And one Metro subway car was derailed. And a bunch of 747 cargo doors fell onto some guy's house in California. And I'm convinced that we'd be much safer if we replaced the airport security force with a group of bar room bouncers.

We all know that those TSA jokesters couldn't save us from a paper bag. And they sure as hell aren't inspecting nothin' when we walk through the metal detectors devoid of shoes, belts, watches, jewelry and other accessories. But, man, they can spot a plastic bottle containing 3.02 oz of liquid faster'n the hurled insults from Rosie to Donald (with love).

When I went to check in a bag at Reagan Airport over the break, I was shocked when the ticket agent wished me a happy birthday. Shoot, even I had forgotten that it was my birthday. Sadly enough, when I went through security, there was no acknowledgement whatsoever. So I started thinking about all those times that I tried to get into bars with fewer than 21 birthdays behind me. It hardly ever worked. I even got carded during the Memphis trip at the Mississippi casino that my parents took me to because of the all-you-can-eat buffet with lobster tail and Alaskan King crab legs. We're so Asian. (But you know, casinos are such equal opportunity establishments. Young and old, male and female, straight and gay, red, yellow, black and white can all come together under the noble endeavors of losing money and eating lobster tails. Fascinating.)

But what if we had bouncers operating as TSA agents? I'm telling you, nothing would get by these guys. They know every state's license, they can spot a fake in 13 seconds flat, and they have expertise in exerting physical force. I think I'm on to something....

Agog but not quite aghast

Last Friday, Congressman George Miller logged into Second Life to speak to a virtual audience in a virtual Capitol Building, complete with virtual congressional seals, podiums and an eerily accurate avatar. Rocketboom's Joanne Colan moderated the Q&A session, which was open to the public. Watch it yourself.

So.

I'm not really sure what to make of this. Call me crazy but if I'm going to participate in a virtual second life, I want it to be as different from my real life as possible. I mean, my real life is messed up enough as it is; why replicate it online? No, if I were a Second Lifer, I wouldn't spend my time listening to a real Congressman speak. I'd want to live a life of power, of wealth, of influence, of stature and quality ... I would be a 6'5" heterosexual white man! And the first thing I'd do is have virtual sex with a busty blonde. And pee into the Grand Canyon while standing up.

You think I'm kidding. Which I am. Sort of. Not about the peeing thing though. But really, what would my virtual life be like as a heterosexual white man? Who would my friends be? What kind of job would I hold? What expectations would be placed on me and what obstacles lie before me? And could I get arrested for virtual public urination?

All quality questions, I feel. And if I had enough time and money, I would take on this social experiment, write a book about it and get rich. Unfortunately, my real life consists of sticking to a student's budget, watching Liverpool lose miserably to Arsenal, and hunting for the perfect internship.

Oh hell, who needs a virtual life when you can have my exciting reality?

Beloved, let us love one another

Today, I stumbled most unexpectedly upon the contradictions that are the United States.

After passing away the leisurely morning of a vacationing student, I ambled down to the local T-Mobile store, coatless and enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. Poor T-Mobile. It wants so badly to be a "real" cell phone provider but somehow, I received better reception in La Paz, Bolivia, than I do in my house and in The Duck in D.C. Go figure. Anyway, after a rather useless conversation with the rather vacant young man behind the counter, I decided to pop into a few stores to get to know this neighborhood better.

A store called "An American in Paris" showed some cute dresses in the window, so I tried to enter but the door was locked. Confused because of the "We're Open" sign, I scanned the doorway and saw a sign that said "Due to security reasons, our door is kept locked. Please knock and someone will answer." I obliged and a very nice woman let me in and quickly explained that hers is a high-end boutique and that I must not, under any circumstances, pull the clothes from the rack by the material. Instead, I must only touch the hangers.

Now, I don't pretend to be an expert in high-end boutique shopping, but I've never, ever heard of such a thing. I gave her a brief look of disbelief, but figured I should just be cooperative and browse, seeing as I wasn't going to buy anything anyway. Here's the queerest bit -- her selection, while very nice, was hardly exclusive. I mean, Nicole Miller dresses? You can buy those at Macy's. And you don't have to handle them by the hanger. Nothing that I could find in the store cost more than $450. Parents have spent that much on prom dresses for their high school daughters.

But that's not the point. I left the "high-end boutique" quickly, shaking my head at the uncalled for pretense, and then heard a woman call out to me on the street. I turned and she approached, limping and dressed rather raggedly in multiple layers and a hat pulled low. She explained that she was homeless and pregnant, that she needed me to pray to Jesus for her, and that she couldn't get into a shelter because she has no ID and doesn't have the money to get one. Then she asked if I could spare a few dollars so she could eat.

I generally don't give out money to homeless individual, out of respect for the hard work of shelters and other charitable organizations that are trying to end the cycle of homelessness. But I will occasionally offer to buy a meal. Which is what I offered this woman. We walked a block to Five Guys and I bought her a burger. We chatted for a few minutes and then I left. It was only when I was four blocks away that I realized I hadn't even asked her name.

I felt ashamed. There were a million of other things I could have done. At the very least, I could have listened -- a simple gift of compassion and selflessness and humanity. But there I was, rushing off to do more internship hunting. How classy. The American story, in many ways, is reflected in this microcosm of an afternoon, isn't it? On one side, the privileged, locked up behind secure doors, displaying their luxuries to the world around them. On the other, a woman with nothing, degraded and dehumanized, forced to ask strangers for money and food. And then there's the rest of us in the middle, enjoying the warmth of riches but faced with the rush and realities of life. How often do we choose what is easy over what is right? Okay, so that's a rather simplistic and dramatic way to explain it ... but, still, perhaps not too far from truth.

Over spring break, I'm trying to arrange a Habitat for Humanity trip to Costa Rica. I'm hoping some of the Gang of 100 will join me. We are encouraged to do "community service" in the program -- in fact, it's a requirement. But the "service" has generally just meant strolling along in the latest fundraising walk-a-thon. Call me a literalist, but community service should include actually serving someone. Not a generic body of people, but somebody. Somebody specific, somebody whose name you know, whose story you've heard. That's service. When you put that person's needs in front of your own and do it gladly. The best part of service is that everyone benefits in deeper and more meaningful ways that anyone could have imagined. So I hope I can pull together a band of misfits bound for Costa Rica and actually serve a family that needs and deserves a home. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, I will be praying for that nameless woman on the street and may someone else aid her in the ways that I embarrassingly did not.

Merry Christmas!

May you find the peace that surpasses all understanding this holiday season!

Person of the Year

TIME magazine's Person of the Year is none other than .... you. That's right. You. And those clever people at TIME even used a reflective mirror on the cover so you can see a warped vision of yourself on the screen. The idea is that it's not Carlyle's "Great Man" theory that holds true today in creating history. It's the common citizen that is influencing journalism, our perception of the world, and creating ripples that are felt on the other side of the globe -- all thanks to the Internet. If you haven't read the section, you should.

Interestingly enough, after I read through the TIME piece this morning, I remembered that I needed to hop online to activate the vacation stop on my Washington Post delivery. While I was cruising through the site to find the membership section, I came across an Internet dialogue called "On Faith," moderated by Newsweek Managing Editor Jon Meachem and Post journalist Sally Quinn. The moderators post a question to its online panelists, who type up responses that, in turn, are responded to by everyday citizens. What's so intriguing to me is how the "normal" people respond -- their posts made me think and they made me weep, not only for the 5th grade English teachers who would be heartbroken by the appalling grammar, but for the rationality and tolerance that this country is supposed to exemplify.

As a person of faith, I like to think of myself as both spiritual and intellectual. I believe that I'm called to be smart about my faith, to understand it, to question it and to recognize that I won't know all the answers. Not in this life, at least. Sure, I know that not everyone will accept my faith or even respect it. But, isn't this supposed to be the country where that's allowed? Here's a sample response from a person named Rob, who responded to a panelist's thought on faith: "So faith is a gift, not the result of intellectual persuasion, or practiced debate. How each of us answers the question put to Peter determines our relationship with the God, now and into eternity. This is real faith. This is the real meaning of Christmas." Rob's response is below, in all its grammatical glory:

Rob says:

A gift huh?

From whom?

Faith is for weak minded fearful children of mind.

It's not a gift, it's a curse.

Truth is beauty, not the supposed King of Kings.

Son of God. Please. There is no God, grow up.

The concept of Jesus is an ongoing fraud perpertrated by the half weak upon the fully weak.

The idea of having faith at all just means that the underlying premise os false.

When the truth is clearly agaisnt you, it's time to roll out the lies, faith being the #1 wool pulling device. Fools.

Wow. Now, Rob has posted quite a bit in this dialogue and all of them sound just like the above quote. I want to know what happened to this man, to make him shrug off so violently any consideration of the existence of faith. And not only that, but to insult the rationality and intelligence of millions of people around the world -- who claim to believe in the existence of some sort of supernatural being. Is it really so crazy to believe it something larger than ourselves? Something more noble and more perfect than humans? If anything, it's not that hard to believe, really. Humans are a messed up, complex group of folks, capable of both goodness and terrible evil. When we see humans at their worst, is it really that hard to believe that there's somthing bigger and better out there?

Perhaps all of us are worthy of being the TIME Person of the Year. But I'm just reminded that we're still works in progress.

The First Semester Wrap Up

Well, Gang, we did it.

We survived our first semester of business school.

We learned about linear regression and we spent the first month regressing to our undergrad drinking days.

We spent the next month working our way out of the pile of work, case studies, and papers that accumulated while we were drinking.

Over the semester, we bonded with each other ... and with The Duck. Who knew it'd become our home away from home? We even managed to perform an inter-breakout room wave.

We picked up each other's habits and idiosyncracies, suffered together through the artic tundra known as Room 151, and scoffed at the itty bitty undergrads running around underfoot.

In The G Unit, we busted our butts for Big Jim, soaked up Gandalf's wisdom, valiently tried to keep up with Doctor Deb, untangled our brains after classes with Pair O'meter, and kept straight faces (most of the time) during the Ramrod lectures.

We succeeded in proving we're better than...oops, I mean, as good as, The Elders.

But more than anything else, I'd like to think that we "learned each other something." I've rarely encountered a group of people who have so impressed, entertained, inspired and humbled me. We're figuring out together that life, learning, and friendships are more important than books, grades and GPA. There's something precious about the short time we'll have together in school -- and the fleeting speed with which the semester's end arrived has made it abundantly clear. We'll talk quite a bit, I'm sure, about what we would have done differently over these past four months, but I hope we also focus on what we will do to squeeze the most out of the time we have left. I am quite certain that this group of 100 people will make big things happen for this program in the next year and big changes happen in the world beyond. What a privilege it is to know such amazing colleagues and friends.

As Cervantes said, "Tell me thy company and I will tell thee what thou art." If his words are true, then I am glad to call myself part of this Gang.

Almost there ....

Three exams, one presentation and two papers down.

One more exam to go.

And I'm a redhead again.

Not bad for a week's work.

Waffle, anyone?

There have been a certain choices in my life that I regard as both wonderful risks and terrible mistakes. Usually, I can accept those past choices for what they were, and keep them as that -- in the past. I learn, I move on. It's just what I do.

But what happens when one of those choices unexpectedly resurfaces in the present? Do you regard it more as a risk or a mistake? It's one thing to look back and see the benefits and drawbacks as they were ... but it's another thing to live with that dichotomy in the present. After all, if the choice was a mistake, you either try to fix it now or you separate yourself from it, right? And if it was a worthwhile risk, you might have another go. At the very least, you tolerate its presence in your current life.

Of course, you can always choose to do nothing. Or stall. Which is what I think I'm doing .... Hooray for indecision!

Hell Week

I'm definitely in the midst of finals week hell. Good news is that I'm done with the Econ research paper, the take-home statistics exam, and the accounting presentation. Bad news is that I still have the big marketing presentation and paper, the accounting paper, an accounting final exam, a human dynamics final exam and the econ final exam.

All in the next week.

So don't expect to see too many blogging entries over the next seven days. To tide you over, here are the long awaited car photos (read the full story). I went to get the car washed on Sunday but couldn't find the cheapo $9 drive-thru wash, so I had to go to the fancy $16 wash. The good news is at least they hand dried the car, vaccumed it and armoral'd the dash. The funny news is that the gigantic SUV that entered the tunnel just before my car and made it all the way through the wash before the four burly men finished scrubbing the yellow bird doo-doo off my car. I should have timed them but I gotta say it took at least 10 minutes for them to scrub my car down. I ate an entire Trader Joe's burrito in the time it took them to scrub.

And there was still residue when it was all done.

Them's some nasty fowl life.

Sometimes you just need to hump a table

I just spent 12 straight hours at The Duck. And I spent 10 hours there yesterday.

Honestly, that's just inhumane, cruel and debasing punishment. Big projects in econ, accounting and stats are still looming over our heads and it's not a pretty sight. It's no wonder, then, that a small group of Gang members became intoxicated yesterday during and after the MBA Holiday Party and started to dance all up on the chairs and tables in the first floor breakout room (which, by the way, has large windows that allow everyone to see everything). The dancing turned a little raunchy towards the end, so it's probably a good thing that the buzz started to wear off. I do believe some Gang members are under the influence again at The Duck tonight. Shoot, I'm even drinking by myself at home, while attempting to finish up a marketing plan. Priorities, you know.

Continuing in the ever-flowing vein of procrastination, I went to MyHeritage.com (thanks, Peach!) to find my celebrity lookalike. Evidently, the site was created to help determine your geneology but then devolved (as so many things do) into a celeb lookalike generator. You upload your photo, it runs some fancy analysis and bam! It spits out your spitting celeb image. Sort of.

The first photo I uploaded gave me Chelsea Clinton as my lookalike. Um. Well. At least it was post-makeover. The second photo I used gave me Shirley Temple. I must be one odd-looking bird. At long last, the third photo gave me Lisa Ling with a 78% match. Now, that seems much more reasonable. Lisa was followed by Aung San Suu Kyi, Camile Velasco (who?), Michelle Kwan and Ellen DeGeneres.

So, in other words, I look just like a lesbian actress/talkshow host with a Nobel Prize, under house arrest, who falls on her ass while attempting a triple axel. Who knew?

Pro/Con Analysis of WMATA

I love public transportation. I do. I love that there's a whole system of trains and buses that can transport me from Point A to Point B. I love that I don't have to pay for parking or fight for meters. I love that I can meet random people and watch random people on the train. I love that I can read through the first section of The Post on my ride to school. I love that signs tell me how long until the next train comes.

On the other hand, here's why I hate the D.C. Metro. It doesn't have a flat rate and you get charged differently depending on where you're going and when you're going there. The escalators and elevators only work about 80% of the time. It stops running at midnight during the week and 3am on the weekends. Random voices keep telling me "see it, say it." (WTF? Is anyone really going to "kindly ask" someone else "is that your bag?") And, most of all, it uses my hard earned loan money to pay for dumbass videos like this one.

The Big Bang

Something exploded on my car last night. I was running late this morning (the story of my life) and had to drive to school, but when I saw my car, I literally stopped in my tracks. I've never done that before. If I had been holding a glass, I would have dropped it and it would have shattered spectacularly, just like they do in the movies. I stared, agog and aghast. It looked like a demented Jackson Pollock had released pent-up artist angst and rage on my car with a bucket of piss-yellow paint. (**Warning: fowl language approaching. I don't normally use it in the blog but, really, no other words can be employed in this particular instance)

I apprehensively approached the vehicle, unsure of what to do exactly. At first I thought that some of the neighborhood kids had enjoyed a fling with a paint gun or two. But then, upon closer inspection, the small, splattered, bright yellow blobs appeared to be bird poop. A lot of it. A LOT. My car was covered in piss-yellow bird shit. "Surely not," was my next thought. "What kind of birds shit in technicolor?" Evidently, the same birds that drink the water that makes a D.C. fish have both male and female organs. Or maybe they were drinking the dayglo. I couldn't even fathom what else that stuff could be. All I knew was that a liter of yellow bird shit had been loosed upon my car.

I looked to the car in front of mine. Clean as a whistle. I looked to the car on the other side. It shimmered back at me. I looked at all the cars all along the street. THEY WERE ALL CLEAN. How is it that I managed to park my car under the one tree that an entire flock of yellow-shitting birds decided to camp in for that one night? I have parked in this same spot countless times before. This has never happened.

Never, ever in my entire life have I ever been embarrassed to be seen driving a car. I had to drive my yellow-shit-covered car into the District in stagnant traffic that refused to move more than five feet a minute. I started to surmise that my newly decorated vehicle was causing part of the traffic. For the duration of the drive, I ran my wipers and wiper fluid and could not, for the life of me, pry that shit off the windshield. And then I had to park the car on a very public road. As I scrambled for quarters to feed the meter, I saw a student walk towards me, stare, walk away and look back, staring some more. I wondered if he knew me and I just didn't recognize him ... and then I realized with that sinking feeling that he had been staring at MY CAR.

The worst part is that I can't even take it to the carwash until Friday, which allows for plenty of time for that shit to cement itself to my car. Or, given the state of the Potomac's waters, time for that shit to eat its way through the metal.

You have to see it to believe it. Watch for pictures tomorrow.

UPDATE: Pictures available

US Citizenship Test Questions

Sample questions from the U.S. citizenship test (posted by ABC). How did you do? I got 7 of 9.

More on the new test here.

Pandora

I have this habit of not realizing that I'm singing out loud. I used to do it when I waited tables. I did it while in my cubicle at Big Red. And I busted out with "What's love got to do with it, got to do with it" today while studying for statistics. Not that there's any love lost between the Gang of 100 and chi squared tests. I spent nearly six hours studying statistics today. ew.

But while I was studying, at least I had the soundtrack of life in the background, provided by Pandora. It's fabulous -- you tell Pandora what artists or songs you like, and it sets up a radio station that plays similar music, based on a rather complicated project called the Music Genome. It even will tell you why a certain song is playing, e.g. minor key tonality, horn section, dominant vocals. Pretty cool stuff.

Way cooler than statistics.

Choices and a lonely road

Perhaps it's the two glasses of wine, or perhaps it's just the events of the day but I'm about to wax philosophical.

The Gang of 100 was supposed to have a workshop today on "total integrity management." That's just a fancy business-school way of saying ethics. Unfortunately, there was a scheduling mishap and we got kicked out of the auditorium and our speaker held a quick, 10-minute session with us in the hallway of the Duck. (Which, by the way, was a sauna today. You'd think they could figure out the temperature control in a $50 million building). Anyway, the speaker is a professor at the school and teaches what sounds like a pretty amazing business ethics class. He was a little quirky, which means he'll probably be a fantastic professor, and did a great job promoting the class.

Afterwards, I was chatting with some Gang members about the class and about ethics in general. The conversation was intriguing -- I was somewhat surprised at the different values, attitudes and codes towards ethics that we all held. What I thought of as so clearly black and white was a grey area for someone else. For example, what if you run your own company and you need to make payroll so your employees can take care of their families and you can do it by making a decision that lies in your ethical grey area. What do you do?

I'm not saying I can perfectly answer that question for everyone but I found one answer in a rather unexpected place when I got home tonight. My roommate, her fiance and I watched the most recent Harry Potter movie -- you know, the one with the Tri-Wizard competition and the fabulous, ultimate middle school hellishness of finding a date to the dance. Anyway, at the end of the movie, Dumbledore and Harry are talking and Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, says to Harry, "Difficult times lie ahead. And you'll have to choose between what is right ... and what it easy."

That's often what it comes down to, isn't it? The decision that we suspect we should make ... and the decision that is just more convenient, that doesn't require extra work, that doesn't force us to face that squirmy place of admitting failure or standing alone. What a paradox. How come the right decision frequently is the toughest? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't integrity be easy? What a fallen world we must live in. Maybe one day, we'll find some sort of redemption for the craziness we've build around us.

If not in this world, perhaps in the next.

Democracy, Cake and Covert Agents

Today, I attended an event where a guy named Lynn spoke. That's not so much important to this story as it is an odd name for a large, bald man. Anyway, I'm not sure what the main point of his remarks were, but he has a really interesting background as a political consultant and now a strategic management consultant. And he gave us some really striking pieces of information about our democracy, the good and the bad. Take this, for example:

If there were only 10 people in America:

3 of them aren't registered to vote.

Of the remaining 7, only half will show up to vote (on a really, really good day)

That means only 3.5 people are voting.

And of those 3.5, we can assume that just over half of them voted for the person who won the election.

Which means that only about 2.1 people actually want to follow the elected leader.

The saddest part of that story is that it's not far from the truth. That's just plain pathetic. Not so much a democracy as a democrazy.

In other news, I've been trying to keep myself to less than 20 Weight Watcher points a day, in order to stay slim for the ho-ish dress for Saturday's prom. But I could really go for some cake right about now.

Last note of the night -- I went to a career info session for the CIA earlier this week. One of the CIA employees had been a covert agent for more than 20 years in the field. He was pretty cool but kinda freaked me out with the way he kept scanning the audience when he wasn't talking. And he kept moving around the room. I found myself wondering how many of our country's secrets he has in his head. And then I started wondering what the CIA knows about me. And then the recruiter started telling us what NOT to do if you want a job with the CIA -- the list included illegal drugs, criminal activity, and illegally downloading music. Honest to god. She actually said illegally downloading music and included it as a bullet on her powerpoint slide. I kinda feel like that automtically eliminates 80% of the college student population.

By the way, the CIA has posted its very own personality test. I've been diagnosed as a Curious Adventurer.

I think I'll go watch an episode of ALIAS now.

100 Greatest TV Quotes and Catchphrases

TVLand will be airing a special on the 100 Greatest TV Quotes and Catchphrases, starting Monday, Dec. 11. It'll only appear online and over five days, the series will countdown TV's most quoted lines and give us the story behind them. Thank goodness. I've always wanted to learn the depth behind "Norm!"

I'm ruining the surprise for you, but really, are you going to watch all five installments? (Don't worry, I'll watch them all in bed for you. I love wireless internet). An alphabetical list of the 100 phrases follows:

-"Aaay" (Fonzie, "Happy Days")

-"And that's the way it is" (Walter Cronkite, "CBS Evening News")

-"Ask not what your country can do for you ..." (John F. Kennedy)

-"Baby, you're the greatest" (Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden, "The Honeymooners")

-"Bam!" (Emeril Lagasse, "Emeril Live")

-"Book 'em, Danno" (Steve McGarrett, "Hawaii Five-O")

-"Come on down!" (Johnny Olson, "The Price is Right")

-"Danger, Will Robinson" (Robot, "Lost in Space")

-"De plane! De plane!" (Tattoo, "Fantasy Island")

-"Denny Crane" (Denny Crane, "Boston Legal")

-"Do you believe in miracles?" (Al Michaels, 1980 Winter Olympics)

-"D'oh!" (Homer Simpson, "The Simpsons")

-"Don't make me angry ..." (David Banner, "The Incredible Hulk")

-"Dyn-o-mite" (J.J., "Good Times")

-"Elizabeth, I'm coming!" (Fred Sanford, "Sanford and Son")

-"Gee, Mrs. Cleaver ..." (Eddie Haskell, "Leave it to Beaver")

-"God'll get you for that" (Maude, "Maude")

-"Good grief" (Charlie Brown, "Peanuts" specials)

-"Good night, and good luck" (Edward R. Murrow, "See It Now")

-"Good night, John Boy" ("The Waltons")

-"Have you no sense of decency?" (Joseph Welch to Sen. McCarthy)

-"Heh heh" (Beavis and Butt-head, "Beavis and Butthead")

-"Here it is, your moment of Zen" (Jon Stewart, "The Daily Show")

-"Here's Johnny!" (Ed McMahon, "The Tonight Show")

-"Hey now!" (Hank Kingsley, "The Larry Sanders Show")

-"Hey hey hey!" (Dwayne Nelson, "What's Happening!!")

-"Hey hey hey!" (Fat Albert, "Fat Albert")

-"Holy (whatever), Batman!" (Robin, "Batman")

-"Holy crap!" (Frank Barone, "Everybody Loves Raymond")

-"Homey don't play that!" (Homey the Clown, "In Living Color")

-"How sweet it is!" (Jackie Gleason, "The Jackie Gleason Show")

-"How you doin'?" (Joey Tribbiani, "Friends")

-"I can't believe I ate the whole thing" (Alka Seltzer ad)

-"I know nothing!" (Sgt. Schultz, "Hogan's Heroes")

-"I love it when a plan comes together" (Hannibal, "The A-Team")

-"I want my MTV!" (MTV ad)

-"I'm Larry, this is my brother Darryl ..." (Larry, "Newhart")

-"I'm not a crook ..." (Richard Nixon)

-"I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV" (Vicks Formula 44 ad)

-"I'm Rick James, bitch!" (Dave Chappelle as Rick James, "Chappelle's Show")

-"Is that your final answer?" (Regis Philbin, "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire")

-"It keeps going and going and going ..." (Energizer Batteries ad)

-"It takes a licking ..." (Timex ad)

-"Jane, you ignorant slut" (Dan Aykroyd to Jane Curtin, "Saturday Night Live")

-"Just one more thing ..." (Columbo, "Columbo")

-"Let's be careful out there" (Sgt. Esterhaus, "Hill Street Blues")

-"Let's get ready to rumble!" (Michael Buffer, various sports events)

-"Live long and prosper" (Spock, "Star Trek")

-"Makin' whoopie" (Bob Eubanks, "The Newlywed Game")

-"Mom always liked you best" (Tommy Smothers, "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour")

-"Never assume ..." (Felix Unger, "The Odd Couple")

-"Nip it!" (Barney Fife, "The Andy Griffith Show")

-"No soup for you!" (The Soup Nazi, "Seinfeld")

-"Norm!" ("Cheers")

-"Now cut that out!" (Jack Benny, "The Jack Benny Program")

-"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!" (Stan and Kyle, "South Park")

-"Oh, my nose!" (Marcia Brady, "The Brady Bunch")

-"One small step for man ..." (Neil Armstrong)

-"Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?" (Grey Poupon ad)

-"Read my lips: No new taxes!" (George H.W. Bush)

-"Resistance is futile" (Picard as Borg, "Star Trek: The Next Generation")

-"Say good night, Gracie" (George Burns, "The Burns & Allen Show")

-"Schwing!" (Mike Myers and Dana Carvey as Wayne and Garth, "Saturday Night Live")

-"Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy" (Lloyd Bentsen to Dan Quayle)

-"Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids" (Trix cereal ad)

-"Smile, you're on `Candid Camera'" ("Candid Camera")

-"Sock it to me" ("Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In")

-"Space, the final frontier ..." (Capt. Kirk, "Star Trek")

-"Stifle!" (Archie Bunker, "All in the Family")

-"Suit up!" (Barney Stinson, "How I Met Your Mother")

-"Tastes great! Less filling!" (Miller Lite beer ad)

-"Tell me what you don't like about yourself" (Dr. McNamara and Dr. Troy, "Nip/Tuck")

-"That's hot" (Paris Hilton, "The Simple Life")

-"The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat" (Jim McKay, "ABC's Wide World of Sports")

-"The tribe has spoken" (Jeff Probst, "Survivor")

-"The truth is out there" (Fox Mulder, "The X-Files")

-"This is the city ..." (Sgt. Joe Friday, "Dragnet")

-"Time to make the donuts" ("Dunkin' Donuts" ad)

-"Two thumbs up" (Siskel & Ebert, "Siskel & Ebert")

-"Up your nose with a rubber hose" (Vinnie Barbarino, "Welcome Back, Kotter")

-"We are two wild and crazy guys!" (Steve Martin and Dan Aykroyd as Czech playboys, "Saturday Night Live")

-"Welcome to the O.C., bitch" (Luke, "The O.C.")

-"Well, isn't that special?" (Dana Carvey as the Church Lady, "Saturday Night Live")

-"We've got a really big show!" (Ed Sullivan, "The Ed Sullivan Show")

-"Whassup?" (Budweiser ad)

-"What you see is what you get!" (Geraldine, "The Flip Wilson Show")

-"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" (Arnold Drummond, "Diff'rent Strokes")

-"Where's the beef?" (Wendy's ad)

-"Who loves you, baby?" (Kojak, "Kojak")

-"Would you believe?" (Maxwell Smart, "Get Smart")

-"Yabba dabba do!" (Fred Flintstone, "The Flintstones")

-"Yada, yada, yada" ("Seinfeld")

-"Yeah, that's the ticket" (Jon Lovitz as the pathological liar, "Saturday Night Live")

-"You eeeediot!" (Ren, "Ren & Stimpy")

-"You look mahvelous!" (Billy Crystal as Fernando, "Saturday Night Live")

-"You rang?" (Lurch, "The Addams Family")

-"You're fired!" (Donald Trump, "The Apprentice")

-"You've got spunk ..." (Lou Grant, "The Mary Taylor Moore Show")

The Prom approaches

Yes, this is another shallow posting but I'm so tired. Tired of being admired, tired of love uninspired, let's face it, I'm tired...oh wait, that's Lili von Schtupp. Right then.

The latest Gang of 100 update -- the G Unit invaded my house last week for a potluck dinner and, I gotta say, the international students were the life of the party! By the end of the night, they were talking dirty, taking shots of beer out of the spoonrest on the stove, and acting all rowdy in the kitchen. No holding back! I love it. And once again, we successfully proved that many Chinese are missing the alcohol processing enzyme.

And the MBA prom is on Saturday. (yep, that's right. Prom. Or as the planners say, "The Winter Formal." There's some talk among the G Unit about getting corsages but I'm not sure if we'll actually go that far. Summer is pushing for it.) I've decided to wear the somewhat ho-ish red dress that has remained hidden in my closet for years because it's a tad too scandalous to wear to the church prom or business dinners. While the prospect of getting dolled up and finally putting this dress to use is appealing, it's most unfortunate that the conversion of hot dress to makeout session isn't likely. Most of the men in attendance will be Gang of 100 members or Elders, and the ones not in the program are only there because their women dragged them. Too bad. Maybe I'll wear the dress to an upcoming wedding ... since I have to go stag and hang out with the cutesy couples, I might as well try to add to the wedding hookup statistic. I don't think I've ever done that before. Not that hooking up with a stranger at a wedding is on my Top 100 List of Things to Do Before I Die, but it could be fun and at least make me feel happy face.

Speaking of happy face -- I gotta say that my sister always makes me smile. She arrived to Thanksgiving dinner with her hair all curled, highlighted in red, wearing a puffy black jacket with a fur-lined hood, a Roca-wear shirt, and talking on her Verizon chocolate phone. hee. I LOVE my sister!! And I get a kick over how different we are sometimes. She wants to move to Baltimore, I want to live in London or NYC. She loves living alone, I gotta have roommates. She's Rocawear, I'm Banana Republic. She just got a raise and a promotion, I'm still a broke grad student. hm.

Hope you all enjoyed turkey over the break!

Guaranteed to make you laugh!!!

purple haze

One of my favorite sites is OneWord.com

The idea is that you get one word and 60 seconds to write something. It's a free-flowing exercise; you just write what's on your mind, on your heart. And it's fun to see what other people have written.

Today's word was BALLET.

Not something I generally have a close connection too but went with it anyway. Here's what I wrote:

dancing alone in graceful flowing movements. pink slippers that seem so delicate but show a toughness beyond. and yet what fragility exists in the dance. one fall and it's over. learn to follow, learn to co-exist, learn discipline and focus, learn to pick yourself up, to smile for the audience, to not look foolish, learn confidence and humility

It's funny how your subconscious can connect any two random items. I don't know much about ballet, but I know about performance. And I know about being strong and being fragile at the same time. I know about how one piece of news, one situation, one person can rattle you more than you ever imagined it would.

Doncha just hate when you can't run fast enough? you can move to a new city, find new friends, start a new life, make new memories to override the old ones and yet those pesky shadows from the past keep up with you. and not only do they slow you down, they make the present all fuzzy too.

All-TIME 100 Albums

The folks over at Time magazine have compiled a list of the 100 most influential albums of all time. Organized by decade, the list only includes nine albums from the 2000s -- and it includes re-releases or compilations from four dead artists. What does that say about the state of music in today's age!?! No Brit, Xtina or Justin albums, I'm afraid.

Check it out for yourself.

The Fall Funk

Yep, it's right about that time. That time when the novelty of being in a new city with new friends starts to wear off. When you start to miss the people and the things you left behind. When the new life isn't so easy anymore and you question whether coming here was the right decision. And on top of it all, the weather turns crappy.

The Gang of 100 is definitely in the Fall Funk. First off, the workload is simply overwhelming -- we could work 18 hours a day from now until the end of the semester and still have stuff that remains undone. Second, I think folks are starting to get a bit "homesick." The Chaos, for example, recently returned from a trip back home, where he saw old friends and family. I think he was surprised (even a bit shocked) by how much he's missing back home. And for the folks who are in long-distance relationships, this is about the time that the strain really starts to take its toll. We all tend to understate how much the world goes on and changes when we leave, you know? Third, well, the weather is just grey and uninspiring. The leaves are almost all gone, collecting in wet, dirty clumps along the curb, colors faded and dull like a shirt washed too many times. It just feels like the weather said, forget it, I'm sick of trying to be sunshiney all the time. It's too hard. I'm going on strike. Like the Boston nurses.

Even yours truly, the ultimate optimist, is suffering slightly from this inescapable state. There's no doubt in my mind that coming to Washington was the right decision. And even if I went back to Boston, my life would be radically different from what it was before. Which depresses me even further, since I rather enjoyed that former life and can't ever have it back again. And then I start to miss that old life, plus the life that could have been had I stayed, and the friends I left behind and the stories I only get second-hand and a few days late, and that all prevents me from enjoying the life I have now, which frustrates me because I like this life too, and thus begins the vicious cycle. Funny how one's brain can operate in circles.

But when I think back to all the times that I moved and left friends behind (and there have been plenty!), this is about the time when the new location starts to lose its luster. The first two months immediately after a relocation are always exciting and adventurous. The third month starts to plant questions in your head about your decision, especially because the old friends who used to call all the time aren't calling as much anymore and you start realize that your lives are starting to become more and more separate. It's not necessarily good or bad, it just is. And then when the fourth month rolls around, you're really stuck, trying to live your current life but keep hold of the vestiges of the old life. As the old Chinese proverb goes, the man who stands in the middle of the road gets hit from both directions.

However, life goes on, and eventually you get over the funk. You figure out how to make the most of the present while keeping the best parts of the past with you. And usually time spent at home with family and tryptophans and cranberries does the trick. Or at least gives you enough of a boost to get through the next month until Christmas. Hang in there, Gang -- this first hellish semester is nearly over and we certainly can't give in to those ratty professors who are trying to break us!

What exactly is cheating?

Cheating.

We all think we know what it means. But Gandalf, a professor of mine, told us on the very first day of class that he defines cheating as one student's refusal to help another student learn something. In his molasses-smothered voice, Gandalf recounted a tale in which he discovered one study group had refused to lend a hand to another study group when aid was requested. So, he dragged the unhelpful crew to the Academic Ethics Board and demanded they be written up for cheating. They couldn't figure him out so they threw out the case.

Now, in addition to that being a fabulous story from a very wise man, it gives us opportunity for pause. I mean, we're all supposed to be collaborating as a team, right? In the "real world," no one has to take a test by herself, write up a memo by herself, create a powerpoint presentation by herself. Of course not! We all seek out input from smarter people. Why on earth should the academic world measure us by some other construct?

Unfortunately, in The G Unit, the collective wisdom ain't really all it's cracked up to be. Here I am, thinking I'm in the smartest, funnest, wittiest, bestest cohort of the Gang of 100. So, in accordance to Gandalf's definition of cheating, we took our first (open book) quiz collectively. That's right, we split up the questions so each study group answered five questions and shared the answers with each other. We had a great time, arguing over a couple of tough questions, laughing about this new way of taking quizzes, and relieved because most people hadn't read all five chapters.

We collectively scored around 70%.

Boy, we're lame. Even with an open book/open note, collaborative quiz we answered 30% of the questions incorrectly. So much for teamwork and the future of corporate America. You'll be glad to know, however, that we've scored slightly better on subsequent quizzes.

But the cheating story gets better. Last week, the integrity of The G Unit was put to the test when we had to run through an exercise in class that required collaboration and trust. The idea behind the "game" was to tempt teams to cheat. On the surface, it looked like if your team screwed over the other teams, you would earn the highest payout. Except that at the end of the day, the game was set up such that all teams had to collaborate in order to win the maximum payout. A cheating team could "win" but not as much as if they had collaborated.

Unfortunately, The G Unit failed. The teams negotiated, came up with an agreement, but when push came to shove, two teams went against their word to "cheat." It completely destroyed the trust and suddenly the dynamic in the room turned contentious and suspicious. It was actually pretty remarkable that a group generally so collegial, friendly and trusting could dissolve into such behavior. There was a moment in the negotiations where I thought trust could have been restored, but when the "non-cheating" teams decided to confer together, the "cheating" teams immediately assumed the other teams were out to get them -- and again, the trust vanished.

What a lesson in building trust, in negotiation, in human nature. And this example was only between folks who know each other and generally like each other! Imagine what these sorts of talks are like between warring nations or antagonistic parties.

A whole lotta ugly

About a month ago, one of my roommates (I'll name her Duck) told us that she was going to inherit a free sofa from her boss. This was greeted with much enthusiasm, since our current sofa is indescribably uncomfortable. Seriously, I wanna know who designs these things -- who conceives of a piece of sitting furniture that is ill-suited to sitting??

Anyway, Duck went off with her new beau to pick up the sofa. Since her boss has impeccable taste and deep pockets, she assumed the sofa would be tasteful, expensive, and modern. Unfortunately, the coach was none of the above. Duck discovered that the unwanted sofa was not only the ugliest thing she had ever laid eyes upon, but it was only a loveseat and it was the very first piece of furniture that her boss's wife had ever purchased. Wifey was so sad to depart with it, but ecstatic that it was going to a good home.

In Duck's words:

"I didn't know what to do! I was so caught off guard that I couldn't say no. I should have just told her that it was the wrong size, but I couldn't do it! I just couldn’t! I was speechless!"

How often is one rendered speechless by a sofa? In a haze of confusion and disorientation, Duck and the beau actually loaded up the thing into the truck and tried to fit it into the house. Then they decided it was so ugly that it had to go. So they left it on the side of the road with a "FREE" sign. And then they left the house.

I came home later that evening to this sight on my driveway:

Y'all, it has BUTTERFLIES on it! Who puts BUTTERFLIES on a sofa? I don't even think Mariah would want it. It's not just ugly, it's FUGLY in every sense of the word. It’s pink. And blue. And yellow. And green. With flowers. And it's worse in person. When Duck came back to the house, hours later, the POS sofa was still outside. No one even wanted it for free. Not a living soul. Then, she got worried that the dew would completely ruin it, so we had to drag it back into the house at midnight.

The next day, I left for class and returned in the evening to find the fugly sofa neatly covered by a sheet, which was duck-taped into place to cover all its garish parts. My other roommate, Chestnut, calmly explained that she was trying to do work in the living room but the fugliness was so distracting that she had to cover it up in order to concentrate.

That’s quite an accomplishment for a sofa. Anyone want it?

Ditka diversifies

Ditka does wine.

The "Ditka Kick Ass Red" is a powerful wine with a nice, pleasant pepper finish. And it's going to cost you $40-50 at Costco. The most bizarre part of this story is that all of it is actually for real. Ditka is doing wine.

What's next? A Deion Sanders fashion line?

Republicans are depressed today

Okay, so I might be an uber-politico-nerd, but it was rather fun and exciting to watch the Virginia senate returns last night. I was totally hooked -- and so glad that I registered and voted. For the first time in years, my vote actually mattered. Not that it was a waste of time to vote, but I was registered in Texas throughout college and then registered in Massachusetts afterwards. Neither one of those states will see a close national election anytime soon. (Although, the MA governor's race this year was electric!)

I'm mad at myself for not even thinking about heading out to the Capitol Hill bars to watch the returns. Gotta get used to being in WDC for these sorts of things, I suppose. I wonder what it was like over at Casa Blanca last night...

The moral of this year's midterm elections, though, is to watch out for those squirrels.

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Editor's Note: Shoot, I totally forgot -- Britney's back on the market, kids.

Mobilizing the Masses

Now that's a motivated-looking crowd. Thanks, Mr. President.

Readers, I hope you have taken the time to register to vote, filled out your proxy, or will be at the polls tomorrow!!!

Need to improve my dating karma

Yep, it's official. No more dating. I was absolutely dreading going out with SpeedDateBoy tonight – and this is after I had postponed the date for two weeks (or 19 days, as he so politely corrected me). That parenthetical really should be enough said, but no, there's more.

For all you guys out there, here are a few tips, courtesy of The Lady V. First, try hard not to call her seven times in one week. Even if you think she’s really cute. Even if you met her on a random night and bought her a drink while she was speed dating. Seriously, seven calls in one week is kinda aggressive. And it makes you seem desperate. Both are major turnoffs.

Second, don't invade a girl's personal space on the first date. Specifically, don't try to squeeze into the same revolving door section. Believe or not, it’s not cute.

Third, if she has to leave because she’s dog-sitting and didn’t get a chance to walk the dog, it’s usually best if you don’t offer to “come with.” Who DOES that?

Lastly, don’t ever, ever, ever wear a sweater vest. Ever.

sigh.

Now I see why Washington D.C. was rated No. 9 on the Best Cities for Singles list.

Maybe I should take the advice of Gang of 100 member GFiddy (that was his choice for a code name, don’t look at me). I gave him the recap of the night and he scolded me for not coming up with a better lie – “If you’re gonna date, you gotta learn to lie,” he sniffed. Specifically, learn lies that make it impossible for the unwanted date to join. Can’t say I fully agree with GFiddy. Lying seems pretty cold, unfeeling, oh and unethical. But hey, GFiddy is also the guy who attempted to reassure me by saying there are plenty of fish in the sea and not all of them are floating on top.

Oh lordy.

I heart Borat

Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that Borat is taking America by storm. This blog entry is devoted to the comedic genius of Sacha Baron Cohen. A nod to Jon Stewart, as well!



Need another fix? Borat talks with Conans O'Brien.

More? Watch Matt Lauer interview Borat on The TODAY show.

And if you want to know what Sacha Baren Cohen is like in real life, check him out with Jon Stewart a few years back.

Satan strikes again

Any predictions on how the Ted Haggard scandal will play out? Sure, the whole gay sex this is only an allegation. Still, the man has admitted to buying meth and a male-on-male massage but nothing more.

I suppose regardless of whether Haggard is innocent or guilty, the real issue is what happens next. How will the church respond? How will individual Christians respond? How do evangelicals react in a way that is appropriate, humble, and restorative of the public's faith?

I wonder as I wander

For those of you who have asked about my faith and how it influences my life, my views on politics, my activism, I point you in the direction of Sen. Barack Obama. He recently gave the keynote at the Call to Renewal conference and you can read an excerpt from that speech here.

If we truly hope to speak to people where they’re at—to communicate our hopes and values in a way that’s relevant to their own—then as progressives we cannot abandon the field of religious discourse. Because when we ignore the debate about what it means to be a good Christian or Muslim or Jew; when we discuss religion only in the negative sense of where or how it should not be practiced, rather than in the positive sense of what it tells us about our obligations towards one another; when we shy away from religious venues and religious broadcasts because we assume that we will be unwelcome—others will fill the vacuum, those with the most insular views of faith or those who cynically use religion to justify partisan ends.

Not too long ago, I had a conversation with Gang of 100 member, Autumn, about this very same topic. She's spiritual, although tends to stay away from organized religion. We were chatting about the pro-life protestors that came onto campus that day, complete with huge poster boards depicting bloody, chopped up, aborted babies. They were lined up along one side of the street and some pro-choice students were lined up on the other side, chanting things like "Get off our campus!"

We bemoaned how useless both groups were -- from the offensive posters and chants, to the physical lining up on different sides of the street -- and somehow started talking about how "religious" people defend their positions by quoting the Bible. Her main complaint was that Bible quotes don't mean anything to someone who doesn't believe in the Bible. And I have to agree with her -- I may be motivated and inspired and called to action by what's written in the Bible, but nothing is accomplished if I use it as ammunition. Why don't more Christians (including me!) take the extra step more often to make their faith relevant to people of other beliefs? I wonder, is it because we're lazy? Or because we don't know how to do it? Or, even scarier, is it because we're just so used to being told what positions a Christian is supposed to take and we're more concerned about making noise about those positions than winning hearts and minds?

Halloween is over ...

...and not a moment too soon. My costume consisted of an all-black outfit with an orange hat and a saltshaker around my neck. I was dressed as a Duracell battery, so my costume in full was "assault and battery." Evidently, that took too much thought because most people couldn't figure it out.

Anyway, the hardcore members of The G Unit met at Winter's house and headed to Steve's Bar where the DJ spins kickin' music. Seriously, this guy gets it DONE and I can speak with authority since I've now twice witnessed what happens on the dance floor there. By the end of the night, I had danced/grinded with a law student, two Jamaican men and all the G Unit males present, befriended a Peruvian tequila salesman named Guillermo who kept giving us free shots, polished off a rum and coke, a gin and tonic, an Irish car bomb and a Jaeger bomb, felt up a man wearing fake boobs, broken three glasses, and fallen down the stairs. I have the nasty bruises to prove it.

By all means, it was a successful night.