the soft distortion fills you up
nourish, nourish your turtleheart
Thursday, July 29, 2004
12:32 a.m.

I keep forgetting Congress is coming so soon. I am doing a workshop and Congress Briefing. Though I talk far too much in small groups, I am horrified of presenting things in front of people. I become incredibly awkward and can't figure out what to do with my hands and arms. Still, it will be exciting this year because I won't have any of the major anxieties of last year's Congress. It will be nice to see everyone again. I like the longer summer conference too, because I have more time to chill with people and less worrying about homework.

Due to homophobia and internalized homophobia, the GF and I live in a very insular little world. So insular, in fact, that I sometimes forget about homophobia/heterosexism and get really weirded out when people are openly rude. Things are so different now, 10 months in. We go outside together more often; today we rode our bikes to get new little bike things. I'm so used to having her around all the time that I'm anxious about separation anxiety once school starts. Congress and housing training will be good practice.

There is an oddly sweet smell, like Glade Plug-ins, wafting in through the window. Scary.

crawling in silence, a simple excuse
Thursday, July 22, 2004
02:10 a.m.

So, Sara darling, I have absolutely no idea what happened to Vidya and Hannah (except that Hannah has a blog now and if I have time later, I'll read it and fill you in. It may, of course, be pushed aside for my obsession with blogs by crazy white ladies who adopt Chinese babies. )

The GF fell asleep in the living room tonight watching Buffy. She finished Season 2 today and got really stressed out during the finale, yelling at the screen and crying and the like. It reminded me of how I used to feel about Buffy. Eric and I made Diana watch these Willow/Tara videos I have on my computer and the clips seriously made me want to cry. It was like seeing old friends. Disturbing, to say the least.

I've been watching a lot of TV lately. The new season of America's Next Top Model, ER, and Jeopardy! are all on the TiVO. This season of America's Next Top Model is more fun because of all the drama. I like Elyse, though she looks too much like the last winner. Oooh, reality TV. Really, summer was so much more fun when Colonial House was still on. I have a thing for people arguing about religion on reality shows.

I feel like all these Minnesotan things are beckoning to me. I found my Saint Paul library card today while organizing old photos. Plus, when I was doing my research, I found out I can get IHS coverage if I go to UM for grad school. I wonder if I could rock the Indian Urbanization thing in one of the original cities.

Oh, god, research, oh god. Someone has to make me actually write the fucking paper or I am going to die paying off my McNair grant.

don't judge me so harsh little girl
so you got a playboy mommy
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
10:33 p.m.

Tonight it is muggy, the kind of heat that feels like a blanket snuggling up into every crevice of one's body. I did some errands- returned a DVD I'd borrowed from a friend around a year ago and another DVD I got from the newly re-opened Four Star Video Heaven earlier this week. Then, it was off to Borders via the #14 bus. I love the bus. Thanks to the ASM bus pass, I can go anywhere in the city for free. Since I'm really lazy, I can even throw my bike on the bus' rack. Sometimes I'll ride out to another part of town and ride the bus home. Buses are a great place to read and think. It pays to know local bus schedules by heart.

I used to ride the bus to bookstores in Minnesota. I'd read on the way to bookstores, read in the bookstores, and read on the way home, all to the soundtrack of Sleater-Kinney, Tegan & Sara, or Ulali on my discman. The Twin Cities were the site of my first real independence and as such represent some kind of Catcher in the Rye time in my life. It was there that I learned how to work two minimum wage jobs to survive, to live almost exclusively off of canned soups, and how to seduce my co-workers into subletting me my room and driving me back to Madison so I could go to college again. I like the Twin Cities.

Minnesota was the Reconstruction Era of my life. I emerged from teenaged depression, hospitalization, and codependency into the fabulous world of Walgreen's. When I first started working there full-time, I looked down on my coworkers who were struggling with alcoholism, very young motherhood, and painful mullet/leather chaps combinations. By the time I left Saint Paul, I had this happy little family of Walgreen's workers who lent me Hedwig CDs and gathered for infrequent Buffy the Vampire Slayer parties.

Still, I hated working there. I really, really hated working there. I need to start thinking about that and stop idealizing the newly J-free era so I will crack down and write all the hideous papers that I need to hand in. Because as fucked up as it is, a few hours writing a paper about middle class students' comfort levels pays FAR better than 75 hours a week at a register.

action is action
don't you want to get some?
Monday, July 19, 2004
02:48 a.m.

Summer is good because it's so easy to go outside. You don't have to worry about coats, mittens, and all that wintry paraphernalia. Tonight I went to Cue-Nique with Eric and Diana. I lost miserably at every game but the last and joined forces with Eric at the jukebox to create a playlist of Björk, PJ Harvey, and Whitney Houston. Our efforts were dashed however, by "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." I hadn't played pool in a few years, but it was fun. Suprisingly, pool is more fun when not played at Billiards with gross people making out all over the place.

Last night meant watching old episodes of Buffy and playing with my blue dolphin vibrator. Diana kept shoving it partially down her shirt while Eric looked on from Fatima's stolen chair. We finally drank (err... poured down the sink) the disgusting cheap wine Jo'ie gave to me this spring.

I miss furtive errands into the summer nights. Last year, I'd semi-dress up and go out into the dark for strange queer parties, nights at various bars, and joints by Lake Monona. This year is much quieter and as I only have a month left of summer, I need to up the ante a bit.

An interesting fact before I go to bed- pool is the most popular participant sport in New Mexico, according to those Harris Polls.

i was push, you gave me love
i was shove, you gave me love
Sunday, July 18, 2004
10:45 p.m.

My first relationship was with an older girl, woman, I suppose. She lived on the east coast. I used to fly out there to see her. Her family was extremely well-off. That GF was very generous and sent me packages once a month. At Christmas, her entire family flew to New Mexico to visit my own; when they left, her father presented each member of my immediate family (right down to my then-9-year-old brother) with a $100 bill. She and her mother gave me an American Girl doll. Her mother was aware of our relationship, but her father wasn't as he was elderly and set in his ways. I left that relationship because I was an immature little brat who was definitely not ready to be in a relationship.

My ex went on to graduate from college with a 4.0 and entered medical school a year early. I have absolutely no idea what she's doing now. I think she lives in New Jersey. I hope she found someone else. She was incredibly goal-oriented when I knew her (as evidenced by her GPA and the fact that she was on the fencing team concurrently) so I hope she's been able to lighten up somewhat and spend more time with friends.

Relationships are weird things. I'm a relationship person. I like stability. As such, I'm usually in one and my life is defined by these eras, each girlfriend in succession, for the past 5 years. I've never been single longer than 9 months and never gone w/o sex longer than 2.5.

That's enough airing of my laundry in public for now, so.

How I caught The Gay
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
12:00 p.m.

I seriously have nothing better to do than to retell the story of my life in high school. I am actively procrastinating, so bear with me. The phase will end as soon as I get some work done.

I caught The Gay in high school. I first started thinking I might have it in my freshman year. It really freaked me out and I decided that no, I couldn't have the gay because I was already Indian and my dad didn't believe in God. To me, this was "too much" and no one would ever believe me.

I marked the box for "LGBT" in our school's annual demographic survey. I was terrified about it and hoped it really was confidential. After all, I did have a crush on Bridget McCann! Bridget McCann was a tallish half-German girl with whom I'd gone to school in 6th grade. I had a major crush on her then, but I wrote it off as really "admiring" her. She graduated from middle school that year (she was an 8th grader) and I didnt' see her until I started high school.

Bridget was great. I let her use my metal Japanese pencil case and she taught me all kinds of dirty words. We didn't see each other much outside of school (she hadn't been to my house since I was 11) but one night, she took me out for dinner at Perkin's. On the way home, we parked her car in Green Isle Park. We nearly kissed, but instead, drove back to my house, where we hugged for a really long time and I ran indoors thinking "what was that?? Of course, I did not connect my feelings for Bridget McCann with TheGay.

I first realized I had TheGay on a plane to Amsterdam. I was reading an article about Fiona Apple. Suddenly, I knew I had TheGay! I knew why I had never liked boys! I knew why I always wanted to watch Jodie Foster movies! It all made sense! I spent the next week in Amsterdam wandering around the museums too embarassed to look at the naked women in paintings. I wrote down everything in my journal. I'd had an epiphany. (Of course, I also wanted to see the Spice Girls movie more than anything, so I can't have been too sane at the time.)

Of course, my revelations faded away once I left Amsterdam. Ukraine wasn't really a sexy place. Everyone smelled funny, they wore enormous fur outfits, and listened to bad techno. Then, I met Anna. I "fell in love" with Anna. Anna like Marilyn Manson, wore hideous taped-leg black jeans, and shared my love for The X-Files. She also got drunk at a class party, vomited, and took off her pants! Sometimes, we'd kiss on the lips. To her, it was totally normal, people kiss all the time in Ukraine. To me, it was "intense." When I discovered her relationship with another boy in our class, Zhenya, I was crushed.

I was mad. I ended up leaving Ukraine shortly thereafter. Nothing had ever been more painful! I decided I didn't need Anna to have TheGay and soldiered forward into the most homophobic environment possible, a small town in upstate New York, home to my new school: Clarkson University.

Fuck, have to clear these rumors
I got a headache and it's not a tumor
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
11:40 a.m.

Some people are really shit (as differentiated from the shit). These individuals will call you out for mentioning them in a less-than-flattering light in your blog, but will also spread insane rumours about you around campus. Even after you've had enough, completely cut such people out of your life, and moved on (except for shit-talking them at dinner parties), they persist in spreading ridiculous rumors and gossiping about one's perceived personal life. Grand.

One thing I'd like to make clear: my home life is not a television show. The GF and I are not open with our relationship because it is not safe to do so. We don't gossip about ourselves because we don't want other people to talk about us. So, when individuals I know to be among the biggest gossips ever ask me about the GF, I am inclined not to answer. It's not because I don't trust them, it's... oh, wait, it is.

The GF and I have been blessed to share our relationship with some amazing people. Those who know about us are people we respect, love, and trust. We trust our friends not to spread our personal business around campus. We already have enough stress just being on campus, thank you.

That said, I am pissed that these same idiot people I mentioned above are also frustrating the lives of my friends. For me, the best thing to do was to cut said idiots out of my life, however, they appear to have nothing better to do than continue gossiping with me in other venues.

So, maybe y'all can come over with your hidden white babies, your secret heterosexual partner, and your heroin addictions to hang out with my politically ambitious ass that apparently gets it on every night with a variety of young ladies and my brother.

Pozovi menya soboi
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
12:28 a.m.

I have this really annoying proclivity for enjoying being alone, at night, on the street. It started when I was in XAPbKOB. One night, I walked down Pushinskaya to Rosa Luxembourg Square, bought a Björk cassette, and walked all the way back up Sumskaya to our apartment. My dad was not around. At the end of tenth grade, he had this habit of disappearing for days at a time to go to the south. I would muck about the apartment for a few days, then head out to Saltovka to be fed fried potatoes and orange soda, stare adoringly at my best friend Anna, and fool around with one of my school's teachers. I was the only American most people had ever met, so most of my cultural faux pas were excused.

Once, I sat on the floor in our school's hallway. The principal decided I was a "hooligan." Everyone said that: "Shto hooligan!" I never really did anything bad. After a few weeks in Ukraine, my dad pretty much let me do what I wanted. I'd go downtown with Bogdan, this older boy who was actually very gentlemanly. (Later on, he visited me in the states and was anything but.) I'd hang out in the school milk bar with this weird Moroccan dude. He had piles of photo albums filled with pictures of himself in the same pose, all over Morocco and Ukraine. He used to rub his hand over my forearm and read my shit poetry. Then, there was this random expat named Paul who lived out past the Pioneer Center. He had a bookcase filled with English-language movies like Forrest Gump and The Lion King.

I was pretty social then. People were always inviting me to tea because I'm American. At one dinner party, an uptight boy and I argued over which of our countries had better atom bombs. Of course, I didn't know shit about nuclear warfare, but my country wouldn't let me down, right? I mean, I could cash in one of my secret $5 bills for 10 grivnas, enough to buy groceries for a week. I had a passport, a laptop, and a Sega GameGear. I was set. I even knew another expat, this one Welsh, who invited me round to visit his wife and use their enormous bathtub.

I got on well with all my teachers. Andrei was having a secret affair with the economics teacher, Lena. Irina had a skinny daughter with really hairy legs. Olga Z. got me a job transcribing and translating English videos about mixing and using grout. Inna had a car. She took me to the river to swim and offered to buy my swimsuit for the equivalent of $80. Everything at The Academy was like a big soap opera in gigantic fur coats.

I'm not totally sure what happened in the former Soviet Union, but when I came back to the U.S., I was gay.

One of these mornings you're gonna rise up singing
And you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the
Monday, July 12, 2004
04:19 p.m.

Today is one of those bright white summer days where the sky is bright and the clouds are so white that the air seems full of snow-glare. It's hot outside so I'm sprawled on a mattress in our living room with the fan aimed at me and Brenda, who is sleeping off her hangover on the pink mattress. The gerbils are running frenetically on their wheel and Fatima is away at work. Daytime is sleepy and slow- I want to make the GF do something fun with me tonight, like running through sprinklers or swimming.

Last night, Eric and Diana came over for Monopoly. Diana bought nearly the entire board and soon Eric and I were making deals with her to cover our rent. It was enough to convince me never to go into real estate.

My sister and I used to play Monopoly very seriously, during the summers at Nanny's house. It was so hot in New England in August. We wore white diaphanous dresses and hats bedecked with pastel bows. Nanny had a child-sized cottage in her backyard and we used to play in it. There was a path of cobblestones and a statue of Persephone as well. During the days, Nanny and Daddy would drive us to Hadley or Northampton to shop. There was a swanky children's store in Thorne's Market where we'd park ourselves while Daddy and Nanny browsed for linens, books, and soaps. Every so often, we'd go to Atkin's Farm & Fruit Bowl for corn relish, apple donuts, and jam.

After the day's exursions and dinner off Peter Rabbit porcelain in the dining room, Daddy would take us for walks by the duck pond at U-Mass; Elisabeth and I would hurl crumbled rice cakes at the fowl and chase the baby ducklings about. Afterward, we'd splash in the claw-foot bathtub and go to our bedroom to read and fall asleep while the adults talked about politics downstairs.

All of those summer trips blend together. There was the year when I had hard-soled European sandals and tapped across the back yard paths pretending to be Shirley Temple. There was the first summer without Mama, when Nanny put a wading pool by Persephone and we sat reading with our feet swirling the water. There was the last childhood summer when we drove to Maine and Quebec, eating lobster in Boothbay Harbor and sorbet at Le Chateau Frontenac.

After Daddy and Mama split up, I returned to Amherst once, during Winter Break my first year at UW. The house was cold and quiet. Nanny and I drove the little car to Montague to spend the afternoon at the Book Mill. Right before I flew back to Wisconsin, we went to Boston together.

Now it's hot and I have that same lazy feeling I did during those summers at Amherst. My brother's birthday is on Wednesday and I want to get together a little package to mail him.

he thinks he's in love
Sunday, July 11, 2004
12:24 p.m.

Of course, it wouldn't be a weekend without junky television. Brenda is here and we're watching Trading While You Were Out. Last night, we had David over for fajitas and Scrabble. Brenda and Fatima were winning with scores about 3 times that of mine and David's. Pinky called us so we had to pass the phone around. We even got Boone's Farm, but Fatima insisted on calling it "Booney Ridge" all night long. It was a nice night and Brenda and David even dressed alike without planning.

Summer is nearly over. I have LGBT Housing Liaison training beginning August 9, which marks the end of summer, essentially. Then, just before that, there's Congress for a week. So, I have about 3 weeks left of summer and a lot left to write for Professor Blackhawk. I'm hoping to go home between training and when work actually starts.

I'm hoping to hear from the Monopoly crowd so we can hook up for Monopoly, Scrabble, or something similar. Call me!

I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Friday, July 9, 2004
09:27 p.m.

Wow, Friday night! It's 9:25 and the roomie is sleeping and the gerbils are running on their wheel. I wanted to oil their wheel the other night, but I thought they might try to eat WD-40 so I tried olive oil. The gerbils were all about the olive oil. They licked it off the wheel joints and it didn't make it less squeaky at all. Oh well. If it weren't for their hideously squeaky wheel, I would try to sneak them into the dorms with me.

This week has dragged by slowly. Last night was lovely, however. My mentor took me to her 12-year old nephew's baseball game and then out to dinner at Quivey's, which sounds like a dirty word but isn't. She also gave me money to replace my cell phone. I now have the new cell phone, which is very ugly and the same as Pabitra's old one.

I had the old cell phone programmed to ring with a very annoying tone from the "alarm" category whenever certain politically-inclined individuals called. Now, I have about 4 entries in my cell phone and cannot call Eric, though I did reach his mother back in Kenosha! She told me very politely that "Eric is at college."

I found out via weblog today that I was supposed to play Monopoly last night with Eric and Diana! These plans were foiled before I knew about them because the GF did not give me the message until I was already settled in bed watching ER. Oh well. Luckily, my social points (I've been spending too much time on theSims) will go up tomorrow as Brenda is coming to visit for the weekend.

You know what I really like? Painting walls. My ex, Jake, and I once painted our bedroom green with a different green trim. We tried unsuccessfully to paint our closet doors and ended up deciding our botched paint job was a "rustic look." The whole incident played out to the tune of the Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack, which disappeared during the paint-drying process and did not return for several months.

That story was entirely pointless. Anyway, my cell is back so please call me so I can get your number, unless you're Sara or the GF because I have yours memorized.

are you weary like water?
in a faucet left dripping?
Tuesday, July 6, 2004
05:46 p.m.

Applying for post-graduation life is kind of boring. There's the law school option, the grad school option, and the social justice option. I don't think the Peace Corps is always social justice, however. When I was in high school, there was a bit of head butting between the regular expats and the Peace Corps. Expats felt some kind entitlement, like they were "supposed to" be there. The Peace Corps people were mostly young and like to a) drink and b) complain. Usually, they didn't get why people were annoyed by their presence.

I like my white allies. They're pretty cool. I love white allies who are all about understanding that Hey! they're not people of color! Even! If! They! Wish! They! Were! So, I'm applying for the Peace Corps on a whim. I am applying for Ukraine, because I want to work somewhere that I already speak the language. I also like the idea of being a woman of color going to do humanitarian-aid-type-stuff in a white country. Plus, living there before gives me a support system of near-family. I know the embassy people, am familiar with the infrastructure, and actually understand the bribing protocol.

Then, there's Teach for America. I'm hoping for a placement on a reservation in the Southwest. I want to work with people from my own background. The idea of my own commuity getting an essentially free Indian teacher is great. There's a concurrent master's program that I could do in New Mexico. Plus, I would be surrounded by people of color, something I wouldn't get in Ukraine.

The last option is grad/ law school. I talked to my counselor about my convictions that my quality of life be the basis for my school choice, over quality of education. Grad school is something you do primarily on your own. I am not going into a research field, so I don't need fancy labs. I want somewhere I could student-teach in a diverse school. I want a school where I could be part of a viable Indian community. I want a school where "queer friendly administration" is not an oxymoron. A USSA school would be a plus, but not a requirement. I also do not want to live in a huge city.

My little sister will be going to college in New York City, so that's out. (I never really liked NYC for longer than about 3 days anyway, so we're cool.) I'd like to go to Minnesota because the financial opportunities are good for McNair scholars. The same goes for Berkeley, but I don't particularly want to live in California. Of course, staying in Madison is an option but I really want to get out of here. Seattle looks good, however.

Argh! The future! My mom had a baby right after she finished her master's, which is 2 1/2 years away for me. Scary!

I was bored in spring
I was looking for a thrill
Tuesday, July 6, 2004
11:07 a.m.

More overcast weather without rain. It did rain late last night, but not at all during the daylight. Overcast sans rain reminds me of Germany in the winter. Grey. Dismal. I love rain, but grey skies without rain are annoying. Lately, I've been sleeping in the living room. The construction work is still extremely loud, but they appear to have gotten past anything that requires jackhammers.

Ah, money issues. My ex-girlfriend owes me exactly $140. She actually owes me a lot more, but I can't remember the dates and amounts so we are sticking with four instances adding up to that amount. I'm posing a question to the audience: how do you politely tell said ex that getting this money back is imperative? I am broke. I am thinking of writing her a letter telling her I really need the money, I know she understands, and that I'm willing to have her pay me back slowly, but that I really need her to start paying me back. The first time I lent her a sum of money was a $50 dollar loan in April 2003. The most recent was a week ago, of $15. Her friends say she never pays anyone back so I should just move past it.

You know? She's going to pay me back. This is the woman who continued to sleep with me for nearly a month when she already had a new girlfriend she never bothered to tell me about. She also loves to spread rumours about me and my friends. I refuse to be shit on anymore and I want my money back, literally. She only calls when she needs money and I feel sorry for her. I know what it's like to have to humiliate yourself by asking friends for money. However, this woman is doing it extremely regularly for over a year. I am starting to doubt it even irks her a little to ask for money, rides, cigarettes, or anything at all.

I am really looking forward to this falls influx of aid money so I can live somewhat comfortably again. (Comfortably meaning not digging around for coins so that I can buy milk or bread or whatnot.) One thing that's grand about the dorms is that there are no utility bills, no cable bill, no internet bill, and someone cleans my bathrooms. This is all at a disturbingly high rate, but this year I'll be working there so it's all free!

How lovely life can be
When you're alone with me
Independence Day
Sunday, July 4, 2004
02:20 p.m.

Over the past few days, I'd become accustomed to wandering around with an umbrella. I never really used one before this summer and now I'm obsessed. Why is it not raining? The forecast said rain! Luckily, the rain showers should be back Tuesday. I've been looking at umbrellas online and came to this conclusion: I despise anything with a Looney Tunes motif. I hate Looney Tunes. In fact, I don't think I ever owned a piece of clothing with a licensed character as a child. My parents were avidly anti-Disney and we didn't have a TV.

Groceries are beginning to get low so I've been eating strange meals. Lots of yogurt. Also, tortillas rolled up with veggie cream cheese and hot salsa. George taught me to make those and in our "family," we refer to them as "treats." I am beginning to crave toast with nutella or jam. I eat at my desk with my latest Seal Press Anthology, Expat. One thing that's nice about Fatima going away for the weekend is that it becomes perfectly acceptable to eat one's meals with a book.

Last night, Sara and I went out in the rain to see Eleni Mandell. We sat in the front, in little wooden chairs. I love the way she sounds and she does these cute little dancey things as she sings. Sara had dirty martinis, I had a pear Woodchuck. Sara also took her traditional concert photos. After the show, we bought $1 posters and CDs. I walked home under my umbrella and window-shopped. A lovely evening.

You know what I will never wear? Shoulder pads. Ick.

when it rains i throw up my window
on a cold dark day i walk in the street
Saturday, July 3, 2004
08:02 p.m.

So. I have this new Saturday tradition where I decide to ride my bike long distances/take a totally new and crazy bus route/ walk in the pouring rain to a shop, in each case the only shop, that sells a particularly specific item. I believe very firmly that the shop closes at 5:30 and arive between 4:57 and 5:06, whereupon I realize that said establishment shuts its gates at 5:00, not 5:30. Bastards.

This woman who works at The Body Shop in the Mayfair Mall has some kind of odd fascination with me and gives me free samples. I am the type of person who tends to hoard things, but today I gave in and used some of the fancy shampoo and conditioner. It's nice. Of course, I may just like it because it doesn't smell like neem. Since the neem incident, I'm not very discriminating when it comes to hair product scent. Neem? ack ack! Not neem? GREAT!. I even have a reason to look nice tonight. I'm going to see Eleni Mandell at Café Montmartre with Sara. I am pretty sure I haven't been to a concert since she and I saw Erin McKeown last fall. This is also the first time I am going "out" in the evening since... March. Last winter, when Sara discovered Miss Mandell, we kept hoping she'd resurface in Madison to give a concert and now she's here!

Now all I need is the new Sleater-Kinney album to come out.

Bitches wanna talk shit
Thursday, July 1, 2004
01:04 p.m.

Ah, July! I did update my June page last night. New this month is an about me section. New today is nothing really. I started to come down with a cold this weekend and now it's full-blown. I'm pretty congested and headachey.

Of course, being sick means that the GF takes care of me. Yesterday, she asked me what I wanted for dinner- I said a tuna fish sandwich. Now, the GF knows you are supposed to drain the tuna. However, as she's never actually done it before, she strained the tuna in the flour sifter! So I got this watery glop of tuna with mayonaise swimming in it. Gross. I pondered sucking it up and eating it, but before the end of the first bite, that became a non-option. I eventually decided to let her know because I pictured future illnesses wherein I might ask for properly drained tuna and she would say "but you liked how I did it the night of June 30, 2003!" or something of that ilk.

Anyway, it was a mistake, due to lack of knowledge. I did something similar with much greater consequence for the house last Sunday. Not knowing it's purpose, I put Neem oil on my hair. I thought it would make it shiny. Oh no. It didn't actually do anything to my hair other than make it smell like ass until I'd washed it 7 times in 3 separate showers. It turns out Neem oil is for dandruff/scalp problems. Upon internet research, I also learned that Neem oil is used as a pesticide. Whoo! Props to Brandon, Fatima, and Cedric, all three of whom actually spent the most hardcore Neem night watching a movie with me. Lesson learned: Do NOT let Neem oil get anywhere near your head, body, house, city, or loved ones in other places!

In less humiliating news, Mollie from Greener Pastures has gone into labor. I have also somewhat resolved the cell phone issue. While it's killer is still on the loose, I can get a new cell phone ($50 deductible notwithstanding) by filing a very easy claim with my provider's insurance company. Mischief managed.

Congress is coming up in four weeks now! I'm excited because I just love expendable melodrama. Last year people got their panties in a wad because I credentialed (the term for the confidential checking-off of boxes related to identity) myself as an international student. I did it to express my opinion that as an Indian, I am living under the occupation of the United States but actually belong to the nation of the Pueblo of Isleta. Mix this in with conspiracy theorists of the opinion that I was trying to take over the International Students Campaign and you get a lovely tabloid-esque rumour.

So, Congress-goers! Let's remember the motto I espouse, "No More Drama."