Who doesn't like pasta?! It's a staple food. It's like not liking rice. How can you not like pasta?

Then again, I don't like ice cream.

I have got to say that, after all these years, I can still sit down to adventure, the forerunner of zork, or rogue, the forerunner of dungeons of doom, and have a blast. They just don't make 'em like they used to. Now they're in java instead of DOS.

I go to protests, write letters, and try to make sure the people I know are informed.

I have a student who emailed me that he had to go "to the base" yesterday at 5am, and would try to make it back in time for recitation. He did make it for the last 20 minutes of class, and after class he said he would be sent over shortly. He won't be able to finish out the semester. A shame. "So you think the war's a bad idea?" he said. Yes, I do. "You must hate me then..." No-- of course I don't hate him. I support and admire our troops. It's the administration that I have a problem with, that I think is jumping prematurely into conflict, is risking the lives of people like my student when other avenues have not, in my opinion and the opinion of much of the world, been fully explored.

I have a friend who was making offhand jokes about how Iceland or Switzerland is looking awfully nice right now. Low unemployment, good social services, no desire to police the world. I love my country; I think that the U.S. was founded on, and manages to adhere to much of the time, some incredible principles. I think that I would rather stay here and try to change the things that I feel are wrong, try to understand why so much of this country feels that it's our place to violate international agreements and invade a soverign nation (however volatile) against world opinion and without fully exploring other options. I would rather try to promote change from within than abandon a place that I love and think has so much potential.

I think it's a terrible thing that the media has twisted so many protests and statements to imply that you either support the troops OR feel that war is not yet appropriate. As I type this, we've bombed Baghdad and a long, drawn-out conflict which will certainly involve a bloody land war has begun. I have a student who will be there, and I hope he and all the other soldiers manage to make it back. And I hope people write letters ot their representatives, assist in movements like War Resisters, moveon.org, the Community Action Network, the Thomas Merton Center, Cities for Peace, Take Back the Media and Women of Vision and Action. A friend laments that he feels so hopeless. No one of us can change everything, but if everyone does a little, together we can do a lot.

I love the way smells bring back vivid memories-- more than anything else, a smell can remind me of someone or something or sometime or some feeling. Tonight it smells like springtime. That, in and of itself, doesn't remind me of anything in particular, but it did get me thinking about smell.

I remember being probably 11 or 12 years old-- old enough that some friends were starting to spend a lot of time thinking about boys but not old enough yet to know much about them. A friend of mine had borrowed her "boyfriend"s t-shirt and was saying that it smelled like him. She was saying that every guy (and girl, for that matter) had his own smell, and that this shirt smelled like nothing but Seth. I'd never thought about it before, and the other friend participating in the discussion thought that the idea was gross-- "eew, Seth smells?" But I knew it was true, and not gross at all. Familiar. Close. Good. Today I was walking down the street and I smelled something-- some aftershave or deodorant or shampoo or something-- that brought me back to the nights I spent in highschool with a boy I thought I loved; it almost stopped me cold. The guy wearing whatever-the-smell-was was feet away from me... I only noticed it because the smell was so familiar, so vivid in my memory. I was walking with a friend about a month ago in the rain and he said, "Oh, you smell good..." and stopped me to smell my hair and try to place it; apparently a girlfriend 15 years ago sometimes used the same shampoo.

Today it smells like spring, like a night with a comfortable smell of Bloomfield, Pittsburgh. I hadn't realized that I knew the smell of this place until I went out onto my porch and realized that it smelled like those days I was moving here, the nights I spent in my unpacked apartment, not knowing where anything was or what I would see when I walked out the front door of my apartment. Now I know the street outside without looking at it, can imagine how to get to a grocery store, a club, my office, the bus, a friend... but the smell of the air tonight makes me think of this place, unknown.

I love that smell is such a visceral reminder. I love that we pick up things that we wouldn't notice otherwise, like a hint of vivid color out of the corner of the eye, that we have such strong associations and can make such minute distinctions when they matter.

And what makes them matter? Familiarity, being so close to smells for so long that you don't smell them, and then when you come back to them they're inseparable from their remembered source. Emotion, having a memory so important stored up that everything about it is fixed, and smell takes the longest time to fade. I can imagine why it would be so evolutionarily important to have strong reactions to smell, to be able to distinguish so finely between smells, to remember smells so well. But it's incredible to me how much smell is tied to emotion, vague or general memory, ideas and feelings and people and places, instead of momentary things like so much of visual memory is, at least for me. I think of a person I see them in a moment or at several moments; I hear a song I remember incidents; I smell something I remember sweeping eras or long-felt emotional ties or general situations.

Noodle kugel makes me think of my mother and my kitchen when I was very small. Thunderstorms near saltwater make me elated. Connifers make me think of nights in northern Michigan. A certain shampoo makes me think of sleepovers with my best friend when we were small, no matter how often I've used it as an adult. The smell of an approaching rain makes me happy; the smell of snow on a really cold day makes me subdued.

What do smells remind you of?

I just spent a couple of hours with a friend of a friend from Michigan; it was very nice to chat with someone about far-reaching topics. Expecially to chat with someone who likes hardware, video games and computers, and who knows what Slashdot is. I've spent the last six months with people who need help recovering their Microsoft Word files and know that I'm good with the "dread machines"-- and without people who can talk to me about that whole realm of my interests. I left my job as a programmer happily, and plan never to work in a cubicle again; I hope never to have a profession in the "computer industry" or the "information technology industry" again... but that doesn't mean that those interests have dropped totally out of my life. And while Slashdot and other electronic outlets are always available, I have found it hard to find real, live people to talk to who share some of these interests.

Where's a geek-gal-in-hiding to go? I'm not really in hiding-- I just spend my days teaching college kids about evolutionary biology and doing research in archaeology, so it seems like the computer geekiness is hidden. Where, oh where, do I go for an outlet?

Through the corridors of sleep/ Past the shadows dark and deep/ My mind dances and leaps in confusion./ I don't know what is real,/ I can't touch what I feel/ And I hide behind the shield of my illusion.
So I'll continue to continue to pretend/ My life will never end,/ And flowers never bend/ With the rainfall.
The mirror on my wall/ Casts an image dark and small/ But I'm not sure at all it's my reflection./ I am blinded by the light/ Of God and truth and right/ And I wander in the night without direction.
So I'll continue to continue to pretend/ My life will never end,/ And flowers never bend
With the rainfall.
It's no matter if you're born/ To play the king or pawn/ For the line is thinly drawn 'tween joy and sorrow,/ So my fantasy/ Becomes reality,/ And I must be what I must be and face tomorrow.
So I'll continue to continue to pretend/ My life will never end,/ And flowers never bend/ With the rainfall.
(Simon and Garfunkel, of course)

What a long, strange trip it's been. I've been in a PhD program now for six months, and I love it. I did well last semester, and while I don't like my classes this semester they complete my course requirements and give me time to think about other things. Such as papers. I have three potentially publishable ideas I'm working on developing, and they're very exciting. I'm excited, anyhow. So it's good that I don't have classes that absorb my attention-- I can try to develop some exciting papers instead. And this summer I'll be in Guatemala and Chiapas, playing in the dirt and speaking Spanish. :)

The Flash Junkie moved to Pittsburgh-- and he's re-becomming a wonderful friend, after a false start of trying to skip the friends part and go for something more. When you haven't lived in the same city as someone for a long time, or ever, it's important to remember that being friends on an everyday basis is often harder than sharing deep secrets and confidences.

I've met some great people here. Friends I think I'll have for a long time. I also have kept in touch with some people from my past who I was afraid would fade away. A very good thing.

One of the papers I'd like to work on is a really interesting question and certainly a publishable idea. It does, however, require a LOT of commitment. And it's not exactly on the topic I'm planning to look at for my dissertation. One of the profs here thinks that this paper could be dissertation material-- but I don't want it to be my dissertation. Given that, I wonder if I should even do it. I'm afraid that getting involved in such a big project that's kind of off-topic for me could distract me from my dissertation (not likely; more likely that people will assume I'm distracted) or label me "unfocused" or "cross-disciplinary;" things which will make it difficult for me to get hired. On the other hand, it's a really cool idea, publishable, a very worthy project and probably worth an NSF grant on the order of $400k. How could I say no to that? Do I do the cool project despite the fact that I will not neatly fit into a job description pigeonhole when I'm done, or do I stay the course and forego the project in the interest of being more marketable later? I think I'm going to do it. But it's a kind of scary prospect. Academic jobs are so competitive.

Does anyone out there know anything about fluctuating asymmetry? Or genomic imprinting? These are integral to two of my papers, and I could really use someone to talk to about either or both of them. Just for the bouncing of ideas. :)

The MUD that I played in college is back up. Dangerous. I haven't MUDded in years, and while I was never an addict (it started as a convenient way to chat with high school friends who were now scattered over the country for college) I am easily distracted, and while I was never really deeply into that world, I don't want to fall into it now. Unfortunately, the only other person in town who knows it is the Flash Junkie, and he's WAY into it already. :)

So here I am, in my newly adopted city; buried under almost two feet of snow; teaching and being taught; doing research and trying to knock off a scholarly book a night; meeting people and trying to make connections; sometimes feeling very alone, but sometimes feeling entirely self-sufficient.


I always thought, as a child, that I'd understand things so much better when I grew up. I didn't realize that, in understanding, I'd see a much greater complexity-- a deeper understanding, and therefore a more profound sense of just how much I will never know. I think I'm getting the hang of this life thing. The secret, I've decided, is to appreciate beauty, experience joy, and seek as much love as the world will allow you to find.

I bet everyone has weird reunion stories; I just gathered quite a few more of my own. What a trip! I visited the summer camp I attended every summer from 2nd through 9th grade and saw people I haven't seen for 10 years. Let me tell you, some of us have changed a lot from 14 to 24 (thankfully) and some of us have just not. I'm about 6 inches taller than everyone else now. Ah, well.

One of the funniest moments of the reunion: We're in our 4th hour at the bar and in walks, oh, let's call him Grant. Random outgoing-dramaqueen-as-a-preteen-now-apparently-a-lawyer-girl, let's call her Sarah, has had quite a few drinks this evening. "Grant!" she squeals, "I had such a crush on you at camp, but I didn't have boobs then. I have" thrusting out her chest and displaying considerable cleavage, "big ones now!"

It didn't take them long to decide to share a motel room that night.

It's hilarious to see how the people we were affected the people we are. How many of us were eccentric and offbeat then, and are now part of the music industry or living in San Francisco teaching basic weaving using a loom. And how many of us were concerned with popularity and fashion then, and are now living the Sex in the City life in Manhattan.

To go to a bar in a town I was last in when I didn't have a driver's license; to see the first boy I ever kissed and not recognize him; to realize that my "best friend" from camp and I can still sit down and talk for hours even though we haven't seen one another in 10 years-- these are great times.

Very strange to be sitting around a bonfire with beer and cigarettes in a place where the idea of beer and cigarettes would have struck me as terribly naughty the last time I was there. Almost sacrelige. Also would've shocked me when "Sarah" dragged "Grant" off to a bunk to do things that would've been inconcievable to us when we were living in those bunks, talking about what 2nd and 3rd base might be like!

Another funny reunion moment:
Girl one: "I hear Dave Cohen" (name of non-attendant ex-co-camper changed to protect the not-so-innocent) "is in jail."
Girl two: "Ooh... What for?"
Girl one: "Someone told me they thought it was statutory rape, but I don't really know."
(some moments of silence)
Girl two: "You know, I made out with Dave Cohen once when we were at camp."
Girl one: "Me, too!"
Girl three: "Me, too!"
Girl four: "Me, too!"
Girl five: "Me, too!"
Guy one: "Am I the only one here who didn't make out with Dave Cohen?"
Guy two: "Yeah, seriously! He got around, didn't he?"
Myself: "I didn't make out with Dave Cohen; you're not alone!"
Girl six: "Neither did I. But (insert name of girl seven, who did not attend the reunion and was girl six's closest friend) did..."

I've been told that I should watch a movie called "My Hot Wet American Summer" or something like that. Has anyone seen it? I was told that it was very reminiscent of our summer camp. I think summer camp is about first kisses and panty raids more than it is about swimming or hiking or lanyards or any of the other things that are listed in the brochures. That's the impression I've gotten from my own experience, and popular culture seems to agree with me.

They tore down the flagpole in the center of camp. I remember that flagpole-- what I remember best about it was waking up one morning and not being able to find my shoes. No one in my bunk being able to find her shoes. Going down the hill and seeing an enormous pile of shoes (hundreds of pairs) at the bottom of the flagpole, with a pair of violet boots flown up at the top like a flag.

One of the nicest things, I think, was that the old cliques didn't simply reform themselves when everyone got together. I expected them to-- but I think enough time and distance and change was in the way that everyone really sincerely wanted to know how and what everyone else was doing, even though they may not have been so close to them all those years ago. Reunions are so odd. I missed my HS 5 year reunion, and was kind of glad-- but I think I might go to my 10 year when it comes around. Should be interesting.

Anyone else have fun reunion or summer camp stories?

So I had a great visit with my parents, went to Pittsburgh and found a fantastic apartment (top floor of a house; lots of windows, attic space, balcony, right in the heart of Pittsburgh's Little Italy, bus route right outside my front door... perfect) and fell in love.

The apartment is so cool. It's everything I was looking for, but didn't think I'd be able to find all in one package. I will be in a place with a real nightlife again, a place with delis and where they know the meaning of that hallowed word, "bagel." I will be a place with rivers and boats and mountains and parks; a place with clubs and skyscrapers and a variety ethnic neighborhoods with stores that are not chains. I will be in a classroom; I will be teaching; I will be learning; I will be in the fresh air; I will be travelling-- perhaps to China next summer, and if not China, Peru.

I can't believe that four weeks from now I won't be sitting at my desk; I won't have my flatscreen glowing in front of me and my phone ringing, people asking me questions about perl and my gumby mug in hand. Moreso, however, I can't believe that I've spent three consecutive years coming to work in the morning, sitting in my little windowless office, pounding at my keyboard and wondering what the weather's like. I'm looking forward to a life in which I travel a lot; learn constantly; meet new people-- one in which it would be impossible for me to go through a whole day not talking to someone, not seeing the sun. Days are so short here in the winter, there were times I came to work in this concrete block before it was light and left as the sun was setting.

Never again.

The old friend who was coming to visit-- he came, and he's moving to Pittsburgh in October, and I will see him when I drive through Massachusettes (for that ten-year reunion) in two weeks, and I can't believe things fell together for us like this, finally after all these years.

When we were in high school, he once walked miles through a blizzard just to stop by my house and say hello. When I was travelling in the middle east, he sent me letters. When he was bored in Physics class, he wrote me notes. When he felt like things were falling apart, he came to talk to me. When I felt like my world was falling down, I cried to him. When I was deciding which college to go to, I talked it through with him.

When my parents wanted to choose my major for me, he told me to be strong; when I fell in love, I spilled my confusion to him; when we started feeling like the place we'd grown up wasn't home any more, we reminisced; when he graduated and was looking for a job we felt confused and too young together; when I graduated and found a job I was excited about, he congratulated me and cheered me on.

When his long-term, live-in girlfriend didn't seem to want what he wanted, he talked to me; when I find new music that is interesting and exciting, he's the first person I think to share it with. We've talked about everything under the sun one could think to talk about, but I don't think we're in danger of running out of things to say.

We had adolescent crushes together, went to a prom together, talked about the ins and outs of our lives together, went through phases and grew out of them together, and have been the closest of friends for something approaching ten years. We haven't lived in the same city for nearly eight of those. Hours of time on the phone during those eight years account for a tremendous closeness, but who knew what kind of chemistry could spark between us when the opportunity arose, and we knew there was a possibility of a future together for us? If he moves to Pittsburgh (and it looks like he will be moving to a job there in October) ...how incredible. Someone who I know so well, who knows me so well; someone in so many ways different from me and yet with whom I share so much... we have so much fun together, and I think we are each at our most relaxed and truly ourselves when we're together, alone. And of course, I trust him more than I once though I would ever be able to trust anyone. He knows me through and through.

To live somewhere where he can be my friend in person, now that would be incredible. To know that we will be living in the same city and might have more than that friendship-- that this is something we're both excited about exploring, that we are both excited by this discovered chemistry-- that there are possible futures that look so good...

It's only too bad he's a Flash junkie.

This is shaping up to be a great summer. I will be relaxing (classes, over, job winding down, apartment beginning to be packed) over the next two weeks, as I bunny-sit for a friend. Has anyone else noticed that rabbits are little organic vacuum cleaners/wood chippers? It's eaten the buttons off my remote control and taken chunks out of my papasan. I think it's developed a taste for bamboo.

After that I will take a trip down to Pittsburgh and hopefully find someplace to live. I hope I find somewhere I'll like to stay for a few years; something I can afford but which is comfortable. Preferably with hardwood floors and lots of windows. Wish me luck.

For the 4th of July I am visiting my parents-- long conversations and afternoons on a sailboat, smelling the salty air. I really miss the sea. That's one of the big regrets (insofar as it's actually a regret-- I dont regret my decision, just passing up some of the things I will miss) in picking Pittsburgh over Boston. It will be years yet since I can live near the sea again.

The rest of the summer will be great-- a week of an old friend visiting; my brother in town for a weekend; a Guster concert; a ten-year reunion; kite flying; movies in the park-- all that Ann Arbor has to offer in the summer, I look forward to drinking in before I move to Pittsburgh. I love Ann Arbor in the summer. I grew up on the eastern edge of a time zone, where it got light in the wee hours of the morning and dark after dinner. Ah, the joy of living on the western edge of a time zone! To not be woken up by the sun, to have bright sunlight past 10 in the evening. I get out of work and have hours of daylight to enjoy. I love it.

I suppose I'll have to live on a west coast at some point, where I can have both the late light and the sea.

I start to get comfortable with the world and a friend has a roofie slipped into her drink at a party. How could anyone live with himself after doing something like that? Yet he seems to be utterly remorseless. She's the one who's got to live with it. Imagine waking up and not knowing where you are, how you got there, or where this awful feeling you've got that something terrible happened to you came from. To have a chunk of 8 hours cut from your memory and the knowledge that you'd been assaulted. Of course, she did what everyone does-- took a shower, cried, took some deep breaths, and took a few days to tell anyone. No evidence. Worst thing is, he admits (smirks? gloats?) to her what he did, but denies it to everyone else. How can anyone live with that? At least she's going to file a police report.

The European Parliament voted today to adopt a directive that forces national governments, telecoms and other communications providers to practice data-collection on a truly invasive level. It's supposedly a reaction to Echelon. Marco Capatto, the EP draftsman, is not happy with the data collection/retention clause, and has written a report on the proposal-- an interesting read. There is an opinion on the proposal from the Committee on Industry, External Trade, Research and Energy, and stop1984 issued a press release.

There was a story about it today, but everyone seemed to care about the anti-spam stuff and not give two shits about the invasion of privacy that snuck in while everyone was looking elsewhere.

Tonight I'm going to see "Abre los Ojos," the Mexican movie that "Vanilla Sky" (which I heard sucked) was based on. This one, the original, is supposed to be fantastic. I could use more sleep, but I don't really want to just go home and do nothing and sleep, and this is probably the most "social" thing I could do that involves the least amount of actual physical effort.

Update: Ok, as it was pointed out to me in the comments [below], this movie is Spanish (ie, from Spain) and not Mexican. This confusion on my part does NOT mean that I cannot tell the difference between Spainiards and Mexicans. It means that I thought this was a Mexican movie before I saw it. I also thought it had something to do with dogs. Oops.

ok, so... I went here via a rather circuitous route and was given a list of "active discussions" (those being today's top stories, for the most part.) I was also asked if I'd like to post a discussion. "Sure, why the hell not?" I thought to myself, and so I did. The result is intriguing and slightly confusing. /. has changed a lot and opened up a bunch of holes lately (last couple of years,) but I can't tell if this is one of them or for some purpose that A) I'm not aware of or B) is not for wide public consumption (such as the Meta Slashdot Discussion.)

It's so strange to see friends from college and even high school who I haven't seen in years. Even stranger that some of the are married or on their way, that they're professionals, that they're grown-ups. I don't feel like a grown-up. Guess I never really will-- I'll always be me. I suppose I never felt much like a child, either. It was very nice to catch up and see how people are doing. A little older, a little more money, a little balder, a little calmer-- everyone has changed in some way or another. Wonder how I look to them.

I went to one of the strangest parties it's ever been my pleasure to witness on Sunday night. http://www.a2-media.net/shinjuku --and it delivered on its promises. The hibachi was a bbq grill, but hey-- close enough, right? The sumo wrestling was never delivered, but there was a guy walking around in full ninja getup. He was pretty drunk, though, and thus not very ninjalike-- but entertaining nonetheless. He kept hacking at bushes with a dull sword and trying to throw rice balls up in the air and catch them in his mouth. And missing. One actually went over his head and, in leaning back to get it, he spilled beer down his front. Not very ninjalike at all. All in all, however, it was a great party-- tons of people, pounds of sushi, gallons of beer and saki. Dancing, no shoes.

Strangest moment of the night: A couple of very large black men in drag (they actually made really fantastic kabuki dancers) getting onstage to do some lip synching to japanese pop. And then the cops showing up.

Between the old friends in town and the party, my sleep goals were again not met any of the nights this weekend. And having fixed my stereo, of course, I get into my car-- and that stereo seems to be having trouble. No sound from the passenger-side speakers. Hopefully nothing that me and radio shack can't fix. A project for this evening.

Weekend:
Hours studying Spanish: 2
Pints: 9
Bowled (2 games): 210
Games of Chess: 2 (thrashed. Need practice.)
CDs burned for ex-roomate: 12
Book finished: The Blind Assassin. Another great one.
Hours on phone: 6
Tickets to symphony purchased: 2 (Ytzak Perlman is my hero)
Hours babysitting for adorable 4-year-old: 3. Haven't babysat since high school. Easiest $25 I've ever earned.
Average hours sleep/night: 4

Today:
Hours of work done in office: 5
Hours spent studying Spanish: 2.5
Hours spent fixing stereo in lieu of paying some sweaty dude $97.50: 1.25
Games of Go played: 3 (victories: 3)
Games of TextTwist played: Dunno. Too many. Damn game is addictive.
Book finished: Love in the Time of Cholera. Good read.

Tonight:
Change my oil (make the neon happy) before it gets dark.
BBQ with friends and neighbors.
Attempt to begin Don Quijote de la Mancha in Spanish with only a pocket dictionary to aid me.
...or play a game of raquetball. We'll see which one seems appealing after dinner.
Find something to wear to a wedding tomorrow.
Play with my atari for at least a half hour. I can hear it calling me.
Get more than 6 hours of sleep. Though this has been an unmet goal every night of the last 15.

After much deliberation, I've decided that I am turning down Harvard's generous offer and getting my PhD in Pittsburgh. My friends and family won't let me live it down, but hey-- I'll get a better education and do more useful research. I never wanted to be the president of a university, anyhow. Now, to find an apartment in Pittsburgh!

On another note, I wonder what it will be like, to ramble into the void. I started posting on /. a few years ago, but have had less and less to say to the hordes of trolls for the past year or two. It will certainly be interesting to be the one initiating conversation.