Well, I am leaving Virginia today to explore Washington D.C. and Maryland before I return in a few days. Not too much time to write, but there are lots of talking birds and dogs in Melissa's house. It's been fun, but I can't wait to see some action tonight.

Seems like Blogger has gone and changed all the passwords for Christmas. Use "1" to log in and then change your password by clicking on "Team" and then your username. Then go to "Edit your profile" and change it there.

Last post before I blast off. Enjoy my overdramatic splash screen in the meantime...

Merry Christmas to all.

I'm going away, and I'm not sure when I'll be back.

I'm sitting at home busting my ass to finish a software project while my project partner periodically sends me updates about how she didn't do any work because "[she] has been out drinking." Is that supposed to make me feel better? Since this is the second of these messages I have had the pleasure of reading, you may understand that I am a little pissed, especially since the damn thing is due at 5pm. Oh and I have to study for my final final in the meantime. See you auntie!

Well, I guess I was too busy making cheesy sentimental posts last night to get any studying done for my Theory of Computation final. Have you ever had that dream where you wake up (in the dream, not in real life) and it turns out you have slept through half of your big final exam? Well that kinda came true for me.

It all started when I decided to not start studying until midnight for my test at 8am. I decided to take a cat nap after only one hour of light review. BAD IDEA. Next thing I know, I am awake, it is 9:15 and I strongly consider giving up on life for good. I drove to school with the book on the steering wheel, reading while on the interstate. The test was pretty rediculous (in a very bad way), but apparently that was the consensus. Everyone I spoke to said that they wished they had just not studied and walked in after it was half over. But as they say, "la vie!". Get it? C'est la vie?!? That was bad...but I can't change what I wrote. This is the internet; bad puns are forever.

From my daily perusal, I have gathered that I am not the only one who almost slept through a final. The coincidence? We have the same alarm clock, and mine is confiscated goods from our dating days. Time to invest in one of those beds that throws you on the floor when it is time to wake up. I wonder if they make a tall version?

"I wanna get back to my city by the bay..."

Living in San Francisco this summer was pretty amazing, but far too often I have found myself missing everything about it (certain Journey songs have been known to be spontaeneosly hummed without realizing). There were so many sensations and sights and feelings that I have never felt before. I am almost afraid that, if I don't go back soon, I may never be able to have those feelings again. I was brimming with so much potential energy when I left; I was happy, healthy, and in love.

While I am not doubting my love, I have wondered whether I could be happy again in New Orleans (or any other city for that matter). I yearn. Do you know how sometimes you are so sad that your chest starts aching? Melissa and I make plans to go back, like it is our destiny or something. "When I am screwing the California license plate on to my new car, I will know I am home." Perhaps I am glorifying, or just bored. But I know that I felt something more.

"when the lights go down in the city,
and the sun shines on the bay,
ooh, I wanna be there, in my cit-ay.
Ooowaawoah. Oh oh..."

So yesterday Trey and I almost died. We were driving towards the Quarter and at one point we stopped at a red light. When the light turned green, we started moving. All of a sudden, I looked to the right and there was this lady going about 45 mph. through the intersection, in defiance of her red light. I gave a little warning yelp that alerted Trey that there was a problem. Both drivers instantaneously slammed on the brakes, leaving the two cars about three feet from a car wreck. The other car would've hit the passenger side door where I was sitting, and I can't imagine how that could've been good.

"Her hand is moving away from my knee and heading north. Heading unnervingly and with a steely will toward the pole... Ever northward moves her hand, while she smiles languorously at my right ear. And when she reaches the north pole, I think in wonder and terror -- she will surely want to pitch her tent."
via Polar Exploration News

I'm taking a class in phonology, called The Nature of Language. One day in class we were discussing how speakers of a language sometimes combine two words to form a new word. The professor is from Africa and apparently she had asked students of previous classes to write down examples since she was not familiar with the colloquial vocabulary. She started reading the list without glancing up: "Smog, as in smoke plus fog; brunch, spork, schlong..."

Everyone around me kept copying the list, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I glanced up and looked around the room. I met eyes with one of the more vocal members of the class and we exchanged confused looks. He raised his hand and asked, "So what is 'schlong' formed from?'" She gave him an incredulous look as she explained that it meant short and long, of course. Much laughing and mirth ensued. He explained the actual meaning, and now that I think about it, I've never seen anyone (much less a black woman) turn so red.

And that is the schlong of that story.

If I can just get through today...