If you don't let someone in close enough to do that shit, you live a very fucking lonely life

Go check out some Santa Rampage video. If you look closely, you can see me, but I doubt you'll recognize me.

I finished all my patient care by noon today. I was free! Well, I had to print out a copy of my thesis for Dr. Botto. (Domo arigato, Dr. Ron Botto) And of course, while doing so, I spent 20 minutes cleaning up syntax that happened to cross my sight. I also read an article by George Monbiot about exactly how fascist this country is becoming.

Anyway, by the time I finished screwing around and ran that up to Botto's office for his perusal and dropped it in his box, and finally got out of there, it was a quarter past two, and I'd had no lunch. I snagged some fried chicken and then rode eight miles around town buying Christmas gifts. Some people I just have no idea what to get and know my parents will cover it with a gift from all of us; at least while I'm still in school I can get away with that...once I start making money I really should be able to buy a little something for everyone that deserves it.

I spent probably an hour in Myopic again and bought a bunch of books, half of them for me. I really need to stop this habit, since I don't have time to read them and my bookshelf is filling up with books for me to read. I'm looking forward so to reading them, but what the fuck? At least now I have no excuse to go in there for a few months, yet.

After coming home and reading a bit and doing some audio shit on my computer, I headed out to the Mercury Cafe a few blocks from here. A real laid-back, mostly empty coffe shop that has about 7 shitloads of floor space. There were actually a fair number of people in there, but the place is so huge it feels empty. They've got art on the walls, and the people at the counter are real friendly, and they have vegan food too for those of you who are dietarily impaired. I sat and read a bit while eating, then just sat and starting compiling a list of music to play at Delilah's next week while listening to the MP3 player for inspiration.

My friend Marissa in Montreal wrote me a card which I got today. I haven't heard from her in six months, so that put a big smile on my face.

I had an IM conversation with Laura that I'm going to post part of. Screen names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Laura: if you've never gotten a letter like that from someone you were really close to, then take my word for it when I tell you that it really fucking hurts
Darren: yeah, I bet
Darren: Marta told me I was an "obligation"
Laura: when she broke up with you, or before then?
Laura: that's pretty dick
Darren: the night of
Darren: of course, she denied it five minutes later
Darren: a few weeks before that she told me I felt like a burden
Darren: I felt like I'd been punched in the chest
Laura: ouch, yeah
Darren: especially since that's how I'd felt my parents had perceived me for a long time
Laura: rahul told me I was "heartless," and incapable of giving a shit about anyone other than myself unless it was to get angry at them
Darren: Rasshole
Laura: I thought he was right for a long time
Darren: suckage
Laura: i consider myself a fairly self-confident person, but it is amazing what people can do to you anyway
Darren: no fucking shit, man
Darren: of course, if you don't let someone in close enough to do that shit, you live a very fucking lonely life

The absence of that tight-in-the-chest I'm-really-into-someone feeling

When I can't fall asleep easily at night, I play games with numbers in my head. At some point last winter, I calculated how long Marta and I had dated and then what date it would be for that amount of time to pass after the breakup. The date was December 15, 2006.

That was two days ago. And aside from two friends of mine that I hadn't talked to in a while asking how long it had been since we broke up, and talking with Dani about breakups and dating, I didn't really think about it much. I think I realized at the end of the day that a milestone (admittedly, a self-constructed one) had been passed.

Today I've been listening to the new Hold Steady record, and while I don't know what Marta thinks of this record, I remember she thought highly in her review of the previous record at WNUR. And to top it off, there are plenty of themes on this record that remind me strongly of her, or at least what I remember her to be. Some of the songs are pretty good, though. Still, it's been making me feel lonely and melancholy. It's fucked how far under my skin this girl got; even though it's officially been longer since we broke up than we were dating, I still haven't completely recovered.

Last night as I was driving to WNUR, I was thinking about how it felt to be comfortable with the absence of that tight-in-the-chest I'm-really-into-someone feeling. It's actually a bit upsetting to me to get a crush on someone these days, as it's usually nothing that has potential to go anywhere, for many possible reasons. Or worse, the tiny potential to go somewhere is grossly outweighed by the massive potential for explosive destruction.

Newt Gingrich is a fucking asshole.

Like I said, Newt Gingrich is a fucking asshole. A racist shithead. And any Republican that voices support for his presidential campaign goes on my shitlist, even if they were previously a friend.

Gingrich cited last month's ejection of six Muslim scholars from a plane in Minneapolis for suspicious behavior, which included reports they prayed before the flight and had sat in the same seats as the Sept. 11 hijackers.

"Those six people should have been arrested and prosecuted for pretending to be terrorists," Gingrich said. "And the crew of the U.S. airplane should have been invited to the White House and congratulated for being correct in the protection of citizens."

In case you didn't know, the "six people" he refers to are six imams who were travelling home from a conference on how to improve relations between Muslims and non-Muslims, and were removed from their flight on US Airways because of the flight crew was scared of them. It's funny how praying is "suspicious behavior" when it's done by Muslims, but the fucking religious right wants their prayer in school. Racist shitheads.

Also, even after the imams were cleared by the FBI and TSA, they still weren't allowed to fly US Airways. And the company's management defended the decision on the basis of their flight crews' need for autonomy.

So fuck you, Newt Gingrich, you racist shithead, and fuck you too, US Airways.

Santa wants a girl who can beat him up.

Today was fucking awesome!

Okay, the rest of the week was OK, but compared to today, it fucking pales in comparison. And today isn't even over yet! I get to go to WNUR and rock the shit out of the place.

Right now my face and mouth are numb. I just got back from karaoke in Chinatown...and karaoke is fucking awesome. I guess it helps if you have a beer or ten in you, but it was the first time I did it, ever, and if you can find a song you know the rhythm to pretty well, it's a ton of fun. Of course, all the other ortho people I was with chicken-shitted out and left, most without singing anything.

I'm sure it helped that I was wearing a Santa suit, but I did something like five songs after they left, and at the end the Chinese people in the bar were all applauding. I think that's good, either for my singing voice or my gigantic balls. And judging from the fact that I was hoarse from shouting at people all day, it must have been the cojones. (Although, truth be told, it's easier to fuck up in front of strangers than people you see every day)

All told, karaoke is fucking awesome. If anyone wants to go with me anytime, just throw it down and I'm there.

I hit the Broken Spoke at noon for the Santa Cycle Rampage. And what a Rampage it was. Santa had a nice breakfast of fried egg sandwich and bloody mary (with beer chaser) before taking a leak and heading out to the street with his Santa compatriots. Another Santa had a minikeg on his bike trailer, and this Santa filled his bike bottle from it.

Santas then headed down Grand to Binny's. After heading in for Santa provisions, which for this Santa included Young's Old Nick barley wine and some apple lambic as well as a bottle of Duchesse de Bourgogne, Santas hung out in the parking lot and played bicycle games and sang along to songs like the Chipmunks' "What I Want for Christmas" and Dead Kennedys' "Holiday in Cambodia" until the Binny's grinch/manager kicked the Santas out.

Santas then headed down to Navy Pier, wishing all a Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, or Happy Kwanzaa (although there weren't really any African people visible). At the pier, Santas rode to the end, and that's where this Santa really had to relieve his bladder, so he took another leak off the end of the pier. Right after he started, a tour boat started going by. Many Santas were waving, but this one was waving a little differently as he finished his micturatory adventure.

Santas also met some Navy girls, who coincidentally were visiting Navy Pier. Santa remarked that Navy girls are hot in Navy uniforms. Santa also remarked that girls in uniforms are hot, and that Santa wants a girl who can beat him up.

Santas rode around the Magnificent Mile, and even though Santas were wishing the Chicago PD a Merry Christmas, they still stopped two Santas and gave them tickets for having open containers. Santas feel containers should be open so the joy within can be utilized and shared.

Santas also climbed the "moose" statue at Tribune Plaza (Santa prefers to think of it as a reindeer statue) and Santa had to jump down when the cops showed up. Cops don't seem to like Christmas, Channukah, or Kwanzaa. Santas also visited Daley Plaza and the porto-potties there, and Santa consumed plenty of apple lambic there. After talking with some bad-ass skater kids about how bad-ass Santa is, Santas rode over to Carson's and travelled the magic stairs up to the top floor for a picture with the store Santa.

On the way down Santa stopped with a few other Santas to hump a few Christmas trees (and a Santa humped this Santa on a store bed too). At that point Santa had to leave his compatriots to head to Chinatown.

............................

I know I haven't posted much this last week, but really, it sucked, what with studying too much for easy tests and missing Jeremy Enigk's show at Double Door Wednesday night.

I did get to meet up with Dani though, and we talked for over three hours the other night, over food and beers. It was so good to see her; I don't even realize how much I miss her until I see her. So I guess Thursday night was pretty fucking awesome too.

Spurred Recollections

When I was too young to drive, and living in outer suburbia - and going to a private school with a wide drawing area, no less - I also distrusted my parents too much to let them have any access to my emotional state if avoidable.

In other words, I was too embarassed and afraid to admit that I would need them to really drive me anywhere to socialize, and my social life felt pretty constricted for the first two years of high school.

I could never have asked for money for a dance, let alone a ride to a girl's house. Never mind that my mom still pries all the time, but back then she had never been told that she's not entitled to run other people's lives.

Zzzzzzzeeeeeeeeooooooooooommmmmm!!!!!!!!!

I've been too involved in other shit the last few days to post...and I don't really have the time to do anything great tonight.

Quick recap: Hung out with Laura Saturday, with plenty of drama. Rode up to the winter bike clinic at Performance in Lincoln Park on Sunday, then dinner and studying at Iguana Cafe on Sunday. Yesterday I just was exhausted, but had to study for my craniofacial anomalies exam this morning. So I was up way early today, nailed my exam (I think) and then finally got a chance to nap this afternoon, before instituting my studies for Thursday's exams.

I think I'm going to cut my hair and shower now before crashing once again.

She didn't seem like such a poser, though.

At the Slackers show on Sunday, while I was working Chuck's table and talking with Trish, I saw the girl I met at the Deal's Gone Bad show several weeks ago across the room, alone. While I really had no intention of ever dating this girl, I really never called her since I just got busy and forgot. Now I feel like a dick for not calling. I was kind of relieved that working Chuck's table was a decent excuse to not walk to the other side of the room and talk with her.

There was also a girl there who looked uncannily like Marta, only taller and without glasses. But same retrognathic appearance, even. Like I said, uncanny. She didn't seem like such a poser, though. Of course, I never talked to her, so who knows? I fell for Marta's crap, so who am I to judge?

I've been so fucking exhausted this week. Only one patient tomorrow, and a presentation at lunch, then to do something...educational? I don't know.

We were making the kind of plans that didn't mean anything

Right now I'm listening to Rainer Maria, "CT Catholic."

It was the hottest summer ever and the traffic was a monster. You were sitting right beside me with your hand in my hand and we were making the kind of plans that didn't mean anything.

Those lyrics first impinged on my consciousness three and a half years ago, when in a fit of despair over a certain relationship with a certain girl I drove up to Wisconsin and then back to Oak Park on surface streets in the middle of the night, until I was too tired to cry any more.

On a totally unrelated note, the last few days I've been hibernating, effectively, just sitting in and overdosing on the West Wing DVDs I borrowed from John. Just a few episodes left...of the 4th season.

I also made it out to the Slackers show on Sunday night; Chuck needed someone to sell CDs while he was spinning, so he hooked me up with a bunch of CDs in exchange for working his table for him. I would've done it for free, but I won't turn down the free music. The Slackers were great - it's been years since I've heard them play "Run Away" or "Wasted Days." Liv even came down from Madison even though she had class the next day. So did Les, Ryan and Trish too.

Yesterday, after putting in some revisions on my thesis, I spent an hour in Myopic browsing for books. Many things did catch my eye. Hmmm...

Tonight I hope to bang out most of my presentation for Friday. Blech.

All we've gotten so far was a rain of little fucking ice pellets that sting when they hit you

Dana asked me out to the Hideout tonight to see her friend's band play, which was OK. Put it this way: I want to listen to Piebald's 4th record again. Plus I got a beer out of it, even if it was FreeBR.

After that, I rode up to Delilah's for ska night, and I ended up talking with Chuck for almost two hours. I was so hungry then, that I went around the corner to 3 Panchos and got myself a burrito before riding home.

We were supposed to have a ton of snow tonight. All we've gotten so far was a rain of little fucking ice pellets that sting when they hit you, and accumulate into slush rather than snow. Fuck that. It's sometimes annoying to bike through - probably since my shoes and socks got soaked - but it was fun nonetheless.

I got home after 1am. and now I'm just starting to get sleepy.

I'm spinning ska night at Delilah's Christmas week. Come out and keep me company; I'll play some songs for you.

Happy in that everything-in-the-world-is-fucking-awesome kind of way

I rode up to the Hacienda today. Dropped over $25 on a margarita and Mexican food, and some good conversation, some good laughs. Got a little chilly on bits of the ride, but it was only two miles from here and I warmed up pretty quick. I thankfully managed to avoid riding at any of the really rainy times and didn't really get wet.

It's supposed to snow either tomorrow or Friday - I can't wait to ride out in it. It's like floating on clouds. Fucking awesome. Assuming any of it sticks, that is.

I was getting smarmy with a friend of mine earlier - probably too smarmy - and I then told her that I want her to be more than content; I want her to be happy in that everything-in-the-world-is-fucking-awesome kind of way.

I just thought it was a good line.

Damn straight, I'm emo!

I just posted the following as a comment on Nakakagulo, which you should go read right now. Not only is it a story that will draw you in, but it will give some context to what's below, although it does stand on its own:

When I was 16, my friend Jeff introduced me to the two girls who lived on either side of his house after school one day. He told me the next day that they thought I was cute and invited me to hang out with them that weekend.

I went over, and we all hung out for a while (and some other people, too). We ended up heading over to the house next door where this girl Laura lived. Eventually everyone left but us, and she lit her fireplace. We were sitting there, and then we turned to each other, and this sight I remember clearly:

She closed her eyes, and leaned towards me, her mouth slightly open. It seemed I instinctively knew what to do, even though I'd never kissed a girl.

It was wonderful.

Before I left her house that night, she did tell me one thing: her friend Erica (Jeff's other neighbor) was the one who really seemed to like me and the one I was supposed to end up with. The funny thing is, when I first met Laura and Erica, Erica is the one I thought more attractive.

That night, though, Laura and I clicked, and I felt a little guilty when I found out the situation with Erica.

When I was 19, I met a girl named Anne. Anne had a boyfriend who was going to school about 3 hours from where we lived.

From the night we met, we talked and talked. And talked. It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous, and cute, and liked the same kind of punk rock and ska music that I did.

We would sit up on my bed all night and just share our hearts. A little cuddling went on, too.

One night, we were laying side-by-side on my twin dorm room bed, and she propped herself up on her elbow and leaned over, putting her lips on mine.

I laid there like stone. After a minute she moved away. I said I wanted to kiss her. Badly. But it wouldn't be fair to her boyfriend. I told her to make sure it was what she wanted.

The next day I remember walking around town with my heart about to crack through my sternum and drag me home to call her. When I finally did talk to her later that night, she told me she wanted to stay with her boyfriend. As much as that kind of sucked for me, I agreed with her decision.

A month or two later, she pretty quickly and deftly distanced herself from me, without giving me warning or reason.

I didn't really understand until three years later, when a good (female) friend of mine told me she thought my girlfriend was jealous of our friendship and that we should distance ourselves. I was hurt some by this, but agreed.

It was two years after that when I found out that, at the time, my friend had been secretly wanting me to break up with that girl to date her instead.

I am fucking tired.

It was 60 degrees out again today, and I had a 7am lecture. For our 8:30 seminar, we ended up watching half of The Smartest Guys In the Room, a documentary about the Enron collapse. Interesting. Isaac started telling me that trickle-down economics works. Um, no. Econ 101: those with less "disposable" income are more likely to spend what they got rather than invest it. Expenditures drive economic growth and job creation, not investments. Yes, investments and expenditures are both necessary, and yes, increasing investment will potentially result in growth, but it's not as robust or cost-effective as increasing spending. There is the little worry of inflation, though, as well.

Anyway, I was tired out after my day, and the temperature is supposed to drop 30 degrees tomorrow, so I went out and rode 15 miles in shorts and a t-shirt. I stopped for dinner at the Fireside Lounge up in Andersonville; it was pretty good.

I had a headwind all the way back, and I just got out of the shower and I'm sitting here in my bathrobe typing this.

How are there so many beautiful girls everywhere that are either dating someone or (probably) too young or smoke (or have nothing in common with me)?

Like I said, I am fucking tired.

"...And he wasn't wearing any pants."

Today has been a decent day so far. As usual, I was tired on a Monday and didn't get much work done outside of direct patient care. There was a fire drill at 3:30 so I left early. Any work I do will be done on the laptop at home tonight, although it's more likely I'll spend the night cleaning instead. I'm not sure if I have my 7am lecture tomorrow; I'll have to call John. Either way, I'm determined tonight will be productive...and I'll be whittling down the pile of CDs I borrow from WNUR to see what's worth copying at the same time.

I might need to go to the grocery store, too. I drank my last beer during Critical Mass on Friday and that is what is driving me to go. Not the fact that I've been out of fruit and vegetables for two months - no, never that. Tonight I think I'll break open that bottle of Framboise that's been sitting on my counter for three months or more. I still feel like my two bottles of fruity lambic beer need to be shared and appreciated properly.

After school I rode up to Lincoln Park and dropped $44 on a Santa Suit for the Santa Cycle Rampage. 9 miles on the bike today, in short sleeves and rolled up pants since it was over 60 degrees, and I get home soaked through, plus I had the whole Santa Suit strapped to my back on my bag, which was a pretty big bundle all together. Crossing the Kennedy on Chicago, I got hit with a big whif of chocolate-flavored particulate air pollution. All in all, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Er....yeah.

I sat on the stoop and cooled off and went through my (mostly junk) mail. Now it's time to get something done today.

I failed at self-inspiration this weekend

The holiday weekend is coming to a close. I feel like I wasted most of it. I've watched four or five movies, read some, and did a little apartment cleaning. If I felt like I'd done a complete cleaning I might feel a little better about it. I did get to sleep a fair amount, though. Tomorrow starts four full weeks of school until the winter break. What do you think my chances are of getting my IRB proposal submitted? Tomorrow I start beating my thesis into the proper format.

I called Dani last night, expecting to get her machine and leave another message, but she was actually home, and we talked for a while until it was time for me to go into WNUR. She's going to be coming to town next weekend to take care of her brother for two weeks, so hopefully we can get together while she's here. Dani was asking about music since she doesn't get much exposure out on the res, so I plan to burn some CDs for her.

I want sushi this week. I need to get a Santa suit for the Santa Rampage in three weeks, which will probably run me close to sixty bucks. And I need to replace the lights on my bike, and get a good mirror too.

I'm home and delirious and slightly intoxicated from a close to 40-mile bike ride

I drove up to Wilmette again today to see Stranger Than Fiction with my family. It was really good. I want to see it again. Will Farrel in a non-comedic role was nice to see. The movie was a bit too glossy though; I think it would've done better with a little bit more of an unfinished touch to it.

Plus, Maggie Gyllenhaal's character was so perfectly and vulnerably strong and attractive that it made me lonely sitting between my parents on one side and my brother and his girlfriend on the other.

After I got back to city, I met up with Danny downtown for Critical Mass. We went up to the Gold Coast, and back down to the Magnificent Mile and down State St. to Roosevelt, then west about 3-4 miles, and further south, then back north and so forth. After three hours, Danny and I peeled off (the mass was down to a few hundred people by then, if that) and headed up north to Babak's for a little get-together.

6-7 beers later (including the pint of Young's I put back during the ride) I'm home and delirious and slightly intoxicated from a close to 40-mile bike ride, ready to sleep. And sleep I shall.

But first, a question to ponder: what kind of conversation do you think an endodontist, orthodontist, general dentist, and lab tech have over beer late on a Friday night?

Feast and pretend the myth has nothing to do with our celebration

The Broadways song lyrics I posted earlier is my traditional Thanksgiving song. It doesn't hurt that the song kicks ass on its own, either.

Tonight was the first Thanksgiving in seven years that my parents had in Illinois (and the first in four years I've spent with them) and there were 26 people at dinner - 27 counting the baby. And fuck was there a lot of food, and fuck did it get eaten (and drunk).

The few of us who spoke no Farsi ended up sitting at one table, which was dubbed the "Anti-Farsi League." And there was some good conversation. I can always rely on my family's Persian friends for insightful political and economic discussion. Hell, last night I was waiting for my parents at Mirani's and within 30 seconds Kaveh and I had started arguing about the feasibility of a U.S. military strike on Iran. Granted, he brought it up because of the No War button on my jacket, but still...

To round out your Thanksgiving, read this article from last year. When I have the means, perhaps I'll head out to Mass. each year rather than feast and pretend the myth has nothing to do with our celebration.

UPDATE: A little more to waste your time to.

Everything I Ever Wanted to Know About Genocide I Learned In the Third Grade

Third graders holding hands
Indians and pilgrims celebrating new found lands
They tried to teach me that at school
Make the white race look superior, it's always been their rule
Now I can't believe we celebrate Thanksgiving as a holiday of unity and peace
If i had my way, we'd all dress in black
And daddy would serve up the white meat
'Cuz genocide is nothing to celebrate, extinction doesn't deserve a parade
And we perpetuate these lies with the turkeys that we buy
I tried explaining to my mom but she's too afraid
To admit to herself
That her race is a killing machine
Take a good look around your town and who do you see?
The Native American is surprisingly absent in his own indigenous land
Do you want to know why?
It's cuz we killed them all
It's not that hard to understand, yeah
So i go to college and you know what I learned?
That 80 million people were killed
By my grandpa, your grandpa and all of their friends
They bleached out our continent but that's not the end
The last full-blooded aborigine died a century ago
If it's possible there's a place in the southern hemisphere
With a history even worse than our home
No one finds it peculiar
That a tropical island is full of people just like you and me
But Australia's a piece of shit floating in the Pacific
Buoyed by the blood of the aborigine

I am fucktastically tired right now

14-hour day, 7am lecture, worked through lunch. I am fucktastically tired right now. I'm going to read the Onion and go to bed. Tomorrow is free lunch, then dinner with the family for Kevin's birthday, then gorge-on-food-Thursday.

I spent almost three hours tonight just putting corrections into my thesis and changing the format around. I swear, it's got so many headings now that an 13-year-old could read it. The goddamn thesis manual is longer than my thesis will be. Whatever, just git 'er done.

No deep thoughts; all the food I have is frozen gyoza and I don't feel like eating those another night. Shit.

Extensive amounts of food and drink distract and satiate me

I just got back from Rosa's wedding, and her new husband is a pretty nice guy. Not what I expected from her descriptions, but that's just my mind playing tricks on me. It was good to catch up with June, Jeff, Pauline and My as well, and meet the guy Pauline's dating and My's husband as well.

The silly emo boy in me likes weddings. The lonely emo boy in me gets a little sad at weddings. Fortunately the extensive amounts of food and drink distract and satiate me, albeit temporarily. Regardless, I'm home now.

This weekend has pretty much been spent in mental relaxation. I mostly listened to a shitload of music and read news stories and The Selfish Gene. I think I cooked food for myself for the first time in probably close to two months. I did go out and run some errands yesterday, by car since I was feeling a bit under the weather and felt I should avoid physical exertion. Traffic sucks. I was thinking, Wow, I don't remember it this bad in the 'burbs, but then I think about how bad it was on the weekends in the 'burbs and admit that it's bad everywhere. Our society is way overdependent on cars. And to tie in with car culture, at Rob's birthday party last night, all the young dentists were discussing the new cars they bought, all either SUVs or Turbo something-or-others. Shee-it.

My highlight of the night was cracking the math behind a card trick some woman was doing at the bar. Here's how: take a deck of 52 cards. Shuffle. Place the top card face up, count from that number up to ten, placing a card down at each count. Repeat until all cards are down in piles. If any pile couldn't reach ten, pick it back up. If any card at the bottom of a pile is a face card, pick it back up and put it at the bottom. Have someone pick three of the piles you've laid down. Pick up the rest of the cards, so the entire deck minus the three piles is in your hand. Flip the three piles over so they're face down. Count off 19 cards from the remaind of the deck in your hand, set them aside. The number of cards in your hand now will equal the sum of the top cards of the three piles down.

Let x, y, z be the value of the cards placed at the bottom of the three piles when they were created, and made the top cards when the piles are flipped over. The number of cards in each pile will be (11-x), (11-y), (11-z). The total number of cards in those piles will be 33-(x+y+z). The number of cards in your hand will be 52-[33-(x+y+z)], or 19+x+y+z. Remove 19 cards and the number of cards remaining in your hand will be x+y+z. Go amaze your friends and get girls.

I got my New Year's Eve Alkaline Trio/Smoking Popes ticket. And some ice cider for Thanksgiving. People better appreciate that shit, man. It's expensive.

I don't know how to kick some effort into the radio kids. I'm the only one who consistently shows up in time to pull some music before the show, and they all depend on me to be early so they can show up late. I'm going to read them the riot act after Turkey Day.

After six months of trying to reach Dani by phone, I finally emailed her. I really should've done so much sooner.

Shit, I didn't think I'd have anything to write.

Bring your bored, bring your broken-hearted

I saw Heavens tonight; it was a pretty good show. Dana and her boyfriend Chris came out too, and seemed to enjoy it. We went to Pick Me Up after, where I put away about $20 worth of food. Dammit!

Alkaline Trio/Smoking Popes show at Metro on New Year's Eve. Fuck right I'm going. Tix are $66, though, so I gotta grab some cash and get up there and get a ticket tomorrow. I was telling Dana that I'd pay $33 to see either band for New Year's Eve show, and this is just double the pleasure. Better than last year, which I spent in my parents' living room in Oakland.

I'm done with my lit review, or at least what literature I've found so far, and pretty much with my protocol. I need to sit down with BeGole and set up the statistical model, then get approval from my committee and IRB. Then find research subjects. One thing at a time.

I started (re)reading Richard Dawkins's The Selfish Gene since Sadowsky and Schneider and I were talking about mitochondrial DNA and the genetic basis of evolution earlier this week. I read sections of it in college, but I remember it being informative. Anyway, this is from the first chapter:

Curiously, peace-time appeals for individuals to make some small sacrifice in the rate at which they increase their standard of living seem to be less effective than war-time appeals for individuals to lay down their lives.