Revised: vacation gallery, instead of pictures just pasted in here. Except for this one.

SO it was a lovely vacation, and all the work anxiety I had before has now dissolved into thin air. Much is still on my mind these days with work and life, but they are good thoughts so I'm not stressing. Hopefully now back to crazy death predictions and social issue rants again. :)

side note: I know my site is extremely ugly and un-designey, but honestly, it's on purpose, and I'm just enjoying style sheets. Maybe I'll settle down soon. :)

Now I am recovered from my allergic reaction to the south (that's for the well-wishers) and I've had interesting experiences every day.

On Thursday I went to an outdoor concert in Nashville, and while thousands of people packed the riverside, a thermal plant nearby caught fire. So there we were, trying to watch Superdrag, but they were being completely upstaged by a huge fire. Cake redid their entire set list and all their songs dealt with fire, smoke, hell, etc. Very Cake.

I think the beauty of the South really can only (maybe not only..) be fully appreciated on the back of a motorcycle at dusk. This is my conclusion. Dad took me out on his Shadow for an evening ride the other night, and the rolling hills and countryside were just breathtaking. That, and it feels really cool to be on the back of a motorcycle.

Perhaps most importantly, my brother graduated from high school. This is scary. I don't think I need to explain why :)

Suggestion: if you are getting married, please, PLEASE for the love of God avoid David's Bridal at all costs. Please. If you value your sanity. Okay I'm done. The end. I'll be back on Wednesday night in Chicago, and Thurs I'm sure I'll have many photos to post.

Dear readers,

She who is never sick is...getting sick. I should just know that when I go to Tennessee I get sick. Stupid throat is scratchy, head is spacey, now I'm getting all achy....NOOOOOO! Shortly I will be turning to my normal cure of NyQuil, TheraFlu, and Ricola. Ugh.

Seems that every time I approach the south I get sick! When I would come home from college I would get sick. The last time I was in Tennessee in NOVEMBER? You know it: sick. (well..it is probably allergies or something...we'll see how this Allegra prescription works) I'm a perfectly healthy individual in the midwest, and then I come to the south and bam. Grr.

In other news, I have seen Episode II twice now (I needed to be sure). I could say something, but like Miriam, I have decided not to be too critical. If you are looking for inventive action sequences, lots of CG, and a great score: this is your flick. If you're looking for some deep insight into the "force" or commentary on the philosophy of the dark side, this is not for you. Go see Spiderman instead. THAT's based off a comic book at least.

Also, Alanis Morisette's new album is really pretty good. And you heard it from me so you know it's true.

I fooled you all! Muahahah!

I'm in Tennessee right now, visiting my family and taking a much-needed (quasi) vacation. I surprised Liz, MRM, and Rachel at their graduation party on Saturday night: the secret was kept, and I was successful. It was so hard to keep from them that I was coming a week earlier than they thought, but it was all worth it when Liz nearly died of shock. Muahaha again.

Tennessee has the same things that it's always had (corporate chains), and really has the same things Chicago has. It's really just city vs. country, gray vs. green, midwestern accent vs. southern accent. In all honesty, I feel like Chicago is where I belong, but Tennessee is where I can come back to.

Updates as they come...if you need me, just send an email. And for you TN folks, I'm going to Cake on Thurs. Maybe I'll see you there?

I'm all archived now, after too much procrastinating again. You can now read lay-c.com blog archives in full MT glory dating back to September! That was "pre" digital camera. Exciting, eh?

But for your viewing pleasure, here's my Thanksgiving trip, then Christmas, mom's visit in Dec, Sania and Lacey in Boulder #1 and #2, New Years, and a favorite of many folks: Ben in the tub.

Thank you, ktheory and me3dia for reminding me:

• Featured menu items at the existentialists' cafe


• Warnings affixed to laboratory doors at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology


• Oh what the heck, just visit the lists page

Last night I caught myself sitting up in the dark, presumably in the middle of a "good" night's sleep, giving a lecture on the importance of youth and strategic communications stragegies. I actually caught myself talking to no one, in my pajamas, sitting up in bed, in the freakin' dark and calmly realized that I was ridiculous. I gave up on my speech because it was depriving me of further sleep. Isn't sleep rationale the wierdest?

What's your sleep rationale like? Ever wake up in a strange place? Ever forget entire conversations because you're asleep (those 4am calls from Australia do it to me every time)? I'm curious...

After months of procrastinating, I finally finished the "about" section of lay-c.com. I actually put links in there, too. Whoa! Amazing! I bet you thought I was just in this for myself, didn't you. Well...technically yes that is true, but I thought some linkage was due.

Something I thought was funny as I was putting the links together was that I was looking at it like something hierarchial. As in, the first is the most important, etc. It's almost impossible from resisting this impulse in organization. However, this is not the way I want to do things. Some people would solve this problem with alphabetizing their links, but then I have the problem of not wanting to have some links next to other links. I decided, "Hey, this isn't a seating chart at a wedding. This is my website, darnitt! I pay for hosting every month. I should be in control!" and so what we are left with is a rather confusing blob of links on the right hand side of the page. Despite the blob, I am pleased with the conglomeration. Enjoy!

Not even 10am, and I've already got a few links to share:

• Buy Mike's clothes on ebay!


• "Brooklyn goes on a mass diet" (Straight from BBC news, source of all quality news stories, including "America Gets Fatter" and "Philadelphia Wages War on Fat". Both of these articles ironically use the same awful picture. I wonder if these "fat stories" BBC keeps telling about America reflect what is important to the British. I love how deep the world is!)


• Wilco.


• Go tell Naz you like this version of Weightshift, because if you don't he's going to code 15 more versions (also, because this is THE best version!).


• Dave, so glad you're feeling better.


• And a very happy graduation to Bryan, MRM, Liz, Allan, and Gavin! Congrats!

I got my hair chopped off this weekend. I didn't need it anymore.

(Note: special thank you to Mojan, the weekend's photographer. Also note: the third picture is of a child which does not belong to me, but I seem to have many many pictures of. Mojan. Ahem.)

***

I had one of those airport dreams last night. You know, the ones where you are hopelessly late for your flight, and there's no chance that you'll make it, and the ticket is not refundable, and it's going to put a huge dent in your budget if you buy another ticket? Yeah. One of those. It's made me feel panicky all day.

It's going to be a crazy week.

Friends, I have a problem. I am ready to admit it now. I didn't think it was a problem, until I realized I couldn't live without a certain substance. I couldn't go a day without having it. I couldn't resist the challenge of creating the perfect circumstances for consumption. My friends, I am addicted to popcorn.

I thought at first that I could go without it if I wanted. That if I ran out, I could just go a day or two before I could pick up some more. But I was wrong. I went through an entire bag in a week (though I did burn quite a bit of it...that doesn't mean I really ate the entire bag...really it doesn't). When I realized I was out last night, I had to leave the confines of my apartment to literally feed my addiction.

I consume so much popcorn in fact, I have moved from microwave popcorn (a favorite food always) to popping kernels on the stove. In a pot (as a matter of fact, I now have a designated "popcorn pot" complete with the scars of past popcorn disasters). I want to perfect the process. At first, this was difficult, because I would turn the gas up too high and burn the batch. Nothing worse than carbonized-corn.

But I shortly got the hang of it: how much oil to use, then no oil, then just enough oil to keep the popcorn from sticking, how many tablespoons of popcorn kernels would make the perfect amount (sofar, 5 tablespoons...this exceeds the suggested serving of 3 tablespoons but I don't care), how a diet coke over ice would perfectly compliment the bowl of steamy popcorn, and how reading a book or periodical, sitting on the floor of my apartment, popcorn in lap, windows open, NPR in the background is really the *perfect* evening.

Now, don't be fooled into thinking this is an entirely unhealthy habit, friends! Popcorn is fiber-rich and is relatively low in calories! (now, aren't you glad you visited lay-c.com today?)

Enough popcorn discourse. Have a nice weekend!

Cosmic Catastrophe 'a certainty'

Sometimes BBC News does these ridiculously-cliched news stories, blowing facts way out of proportion and making the smallest most insignificant thing look scandalous. Folks, this is one of them. Not to be a smartass or anything, but our own sun--yes, that would be "the" sun--is in the middle of its lifespan. "Lifespan" indicating it has a beginning and an end. One day, our sun is going to die. It will blow up to 3 times its size, and swallow our lovely planet. Hopefully, in the 2 billion years it will take for that to happen, we can find another place to live. In the meantime, I'll take comfort in knowing "space" is called "space" for a reason and that I won't get struck by radiation (in beams less than A DEGREE wide) coming from the far sides of our galaxy. Oh yeah, and it's a good thing these exploding stars are light years away, meaning by the time we see that these stars have exploded on our telescopes, we'll have a good million years or so to duck and cover. The BBC can be so sensational sometimes. Sheesh.

I remember in Astronomy 101, my freshman year of college at Western Kentucky University, our teacher brought in Nerf balls for us to do a demonstration. One student held one at one side of the lecture hall, while another went to the back of the room. If those Nerf balls were to scale, that is how close we would be to our MOON. If those Nerf balls were to scale, you would have to hold another ball in LOS ANGELES to have an accurate representation of how far earth is to the sun.

So you can imagine what the chances of a metor--a little chunk of rock and gas flying around in space--hitting our little puny earth might be. Frankly, it would just be way too ironic for something so small to hit something so small in someplace so big. I guess that's where gravity comes in....but gravity ruins my argument so forget it.

My point is, please take news--any news--with a grain of salt. Facts are obscured, things are speculated, and because it's called "the news" there are people that think it's gospel. I beg you, on your own, unbiased by outsiders, investigate truth. For your sense of safety and education, if nothing else.

I'm listening to (craving would be a better word) Alanis Morrisette's Jagged Little Pill today. I went to her concert in the 10th grade. But that's another story entirely.

Where did that come from?

The snow came in torrents like I had never seen, and battered the window in the living room with straight force. I had ducked behind the recliner and kept close to the floor, but he kept sitting there, facing the window, calm as sunshine waiting for the storm to blow over. I screamed at him to get down lest the window break under pressure, but my voice melted in with the howling which had swallowed the house.

I turned to my right to spot the full bathroom. I pulled his arm to drag him out of the recliner, to the bathroom, into the tub, facing away from the windows. I wanted to call his name, to get his attention, but I couldn't remember it for the life of me. He was unphased by the snowstorm-tornado which had enveloped the house, he was just concerned with asking me textbook questions. I remembered his accent, and that he was talented violinist with an eagerness in his eyes for what I had to say. Today he would not make eye contact, and seemed more annoyed that the storm had gotten in the way of his questions, rather than fearing for his life.

I managed to pull him into the bathroom, and I climbed into the tub. The small window in the bathroom was being pelted as bad as the one in the living room, and I was expecting them both to give way at any second under the constant pressure. We both climbed into the tub, and I ducked my head and covered it with my arms, imagining the shattering glass, the falling plaster, the swirling papers in my house all whisking around me in little mini-twisters, only bent with a force which could drive a toothpick through an iron wall.

However, he still stared at the window. Like a moth to a flame, I could not drag his eyes away from the threatening glass. I pushed his head down only he stayed transfixed at the window. I felt helpless, and ducked my own head anyways. Out from under my arms I saw the textbook he had questions about, the one with the 3D-rendered DNA strand on the front. He wanted to ask me questions about science. And the tornado-blizzard screamed in our ears.

***

Liz, MRM and I pulled up to the McDonald's on our way to the mountains for our road trip. We usually don't go to McDonald's, but for some reason we still went, craving french fries and Big Macs and milkshakes. I, as usual, had to go to the bathroom, so that was my first stop.

As I entered the ladies' "lounge," I smelled a familiar plasticky smell which reminded me of the polymer-limbed dolls I had when I was young. I looked at the odd bathroom setup, which was supposed to look faux-nice, with long mirrors and spacious stalls. Only, the walls were made of hollow plastic, like dollar-store dollhouses. The locks were made of fake metal, and everything seemed kind of rickety.

I washed my hands in the odd setup, and realized I was in a pre-fabricated McDonald's; one that was made in pieces and put together like a puzzle upon delivery. I felt the irony of corporate America as I stared in wonder at this room which was next to normal for the locals. "When the McDonald's came, we were all so exaaahted!" I could imagine them saying. I walked out of the "lounge," bewildered by what we had become, forgetting about fast food entirely.

With the question of pre-fabricated french fries in my head, I walked directly out to the car, where Liz and MRM were already waiting. I said, "Did you guys see that bathroom? They called it a lounge, but it was made of plastic."

"No," they said, munching on fries. "We missed it." They seemed to be enjoying their sandwiches and shakes, so I refrained from expressing my confusion at the corporate world. I buckled my seatbelt in the backseat, and we were on our way.

On the weekend: I actually managed to not do anything I said I was going to do. For some reason, spontaneity was really, really necessary.

I am reading A Fine Balance right now, which is a lovely fiction about India. But searching for something with a little more bite I picked up Democracy in the Streets and Backlash for reading. That's right: social activism, folks! I don't want to reinvent the activist wheel, rather explore a more evolved, democratic form through spirituality. I am beginning to think that adults have it all wrong: that youth are going crazy not out of rebellion, but rather because there's few people that will 1. love them unconditionally and 2. level with them. It's a harsh thing to talk not above someone's head, but rather use terms they don't understand. The activities of the world are spoken in some kind of code from adult to adult, like when you're little and no one wants to say "ice cream" to make you excited (instead they spell it out, i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m). We hear things like "West Bank bla bla bla" and "economic reform bla bla" and "politicians on capitol hill bla bla bla," and the truth is there is no one patient enough to explain the world's ills to youth, so it's ignored. Then it's okay to look at the football coach in charge of United States History in high school and think "that's good enough." What do you think of when you think of education? Do you think of literature and math and science and history? Well those things are great, but what about the part of our world which ISN'T static? Isn't that the challenge in being an educator? Anyone can read from a textbook, but who's going to put newspapers and websites and tvshows side by side and examine what truth is? Who's going to educate youth on that?

I think more youth could get involved and make a difference if they just knew how or what or when or why. Or better yet, get out from under the shelter of naivete which parents mistakenly place their kids and get educated on things which might matter to them, now or in the future. I just think youth are capable of so much more than anyone thinks, and I think youth can be considered a resource rather than a misunderstood denominator of our social system. Don't you think?

It was about 5:25pm, and I stood behind the car. Looking up, I saw the sun piercing the spaces between the el tracks propped above the roads and alleys, creating a breezeway for various different papers and Dunkin' Donuts foam cups to fly through. The three of them were standing next to the car, and the guy from the AAA shop had the small air pump wedged between the car door and the window, with a long, hook-like metal rod in his hand, awkwardly jerking upward to unlock the car door. Kari and Jesse hung over his shoulder to see what progress he was making, which was little, as the last half hour had dictated.

It was actually kind of funny, standing behind the car, in the late afternoon while that gorgeous sun stood like a parent in front of me. I looked up through the slats on the el platform with the sun shining through and my mind said "West." I turned around and my mind said "East." Johnny O'Hagan's Irish Pub was next to me, loud ridiculous Irish music spilling from the outside speakers onto the street; occupied only by us, a few pedestrians, and 5 O'clock traffic.

I started to say it, looking at the parallel-parked car in front of me, towards the slats of the other Eastward platform. I started to say it, "Is there any remover of difficulties save God?..." but the Irish music mocked me, and I started to snicker to myself. I could still hear them speculating in the background of how to get the door unlocked, which seemed a futile endeavor more and more. Something happened, I looked at the pavement, and looked back up, drowning out the traffic and concentrating on a "click" which would release the troublesome lock, open the door, and allow us to carry on. I heard their muffled voices, I looked at the pavement, I looked up at the Eastern sky.

Before I could finish saying it the second time, there were voices heightened with success. The Irish music was back, and I turned around with a grin in my mind, perhaps on my face, to the open door and Kari with her mocking keys in hand. The sun went behind a building at 5:30pm, and that being my cue, I left my spot behind the car to go thank Johnny O'Hagan.