Weekend in San Diego

Yes, I know I haven't posted since Monday. It's the usual excuse--I've been busy. But really: I had class on Tuesday, and Jeff was fixing my computer on Wednesday and Thursday (it was having problems connecting with our file server), and then Friday (last night) we drove down to San Diego with Ben and Amanda Winter. In between plenty of work (National Engineers Week--Yay!!!), school, and stuff, I've barely had time to eat, sleep, and breathe.

Let's see... Tuesday was good, in that I had Torrey class. We were discussing the second half of Nietzsche, and we had a lot of good thoughts about it. There was quite a bit of concern regarding the fact that we didn't seem to be able formulate a good counter-argument to Nietzsche's Genealogy of Morals; however, it seems evident to me that it is because Nietzsche does not present an argument per se, but rather appeals to human nature.

Wednesday and Thursday, the weather was somewhat sunnier. Thursday was roommate night with Sara and Elizabeth, and we all shared work gripes. Very funny.

Friday, as already mentioned, we went down to San Diego. I worked all day, and it was the ICBM department appreciation luncheon. After Sarah had sent out the invite on Thursday, I replied to all and suggested that in addition to Mexican food, we should be treated to Dave Moos doing karaoke. Then I spent most of Thursday afternoon with Laurel, so when I got into work on Friday morning, I discovered that Dave had spread a counter-rumor that I was going to do some Riverdance. Haha. Anyway, after work, we packed up and drove south.

Today (Saturday), we got up, did a little studying (except for Amanda, who isn't in school, lucky girl), then headed off to an outdoor mall (Fashion Valley) and shopped till we dropped. I bought: brown slacks from Express, five blouses and two camisoles from Charlotte Russe, and a brown suede jacket from Wilson's Leather (it was on sale)! I'm so excited about my new clothes (all of which can be worn for work, so I feel virtuous), even though I have had to forego my all-black wardrobe, since Jeff prefers me to wear, well, anything but black.
Now, we're watching Office Space. It is funnier the second time through, and is sometimes too close to the truth.

Still cold and rainy

Gotta love Mondays. If they're grey, chilly, and rainy, so much the better. Everything unpleasant, localized and concentrated for convenience.

Spent the day at work, being bugged by Annoying Coworker, hereafter referred to as B. This B is seemingly incapable of doing anything of his own volition or brain power. *sigh* No class tonight, but I went to the store and bought a substantial amount of groceries. Then I came home, put groceries away, collapsed, and scarfed food (while watching Simpsons, of course).

Today's pet peeve is Talentless People. There are those engineers who still require constant babysitting. There are people in all professions whose intelligence and abilities imply that they should never have been released from fifth grade, let alone be allowed to graduate from college. And there are those very famous talentless people who exhibit no shame at their obvious lack. My special scorn is reserved for that poor persecuted little girl, Ashlee Simpson (thus granting Hilary Duff a step down to the number two spot of scorn), who is being publicly petitioned to stop any activities and disappear into the woodwork. I think the reason she annoys me so much is that her lack of ability is so obvious, yet she blithely goes about collecting huge sums of money to shout off-key. If one hears her songs on the radio, they are so over-produced and doctored up that her voice is apparently following the requirements of the song, but it is flat-sounding (no beauty of tone). I didn't see the infamous SNL event, when her lip-synching was outed (not that anyone was surprised), but I did see her "sing" at the televised New Year's Eve event, which she co-hosted (very dully) with Regis Philbin (not that Regis was an adrenaline-raising hoot, either). She was terrible! I told Jeff, "I know she's singing live, because if it was pre-recorded, obviously someone would try to make her sound better." She couldn't stay on key or carry the very-slight tune. Seriously, if she sounds like that on a recording, she should fire her sound engineer. Of course, if she sounds like that naturally, her sound engineer should fire her! It's sad. But, why am I wasting my time trying to convince people of something most of them probably know anyway? Because it's gripe day, that's why.
Dear little Ashlee--You are young and energetic. It is not too late to make something of your life. You can go to college, learn something, and eventually contribute to the world. Your sister is, I think, beyond hope (but at least she can carry a tune without needing a bucket), but you can bring credit to your family. Don't despair, Ashlee, the world is full of people who might appreciate you if you start making good decisions. I'm even willing to tutor you, if you need some good SAT scores.

SUNday?

Sadly, there was a paucity of actual sun today. It was cloudy and rainy. But it was decent enough, with coffee with Christina and then church (despite the fact that the pastor isn't as careful as he should be--grrr) in the morning, and then Laurel coming over for a few hours in the afternoon, during which we ate lunch, exercised, went in the spa, and had a great time talking all throughout. She had to go see Bachan and Chichan (approximate spellings, thank you), so she left, Jeff disappeared into the back room to study, and I did a bit of cleaning and homework, watched an older movie (Gambit, 1966) that I'd recorded on DVR, and pretty much relaxed. Right now, I have a nasty stomach ache--Jeff said, "You shouldn't have eaten junk food for dinner, now, should you?" but I didn't really have junky food: popcorn and pineapple, and just one cookie. Okay, maybe it wasn't especially well-rounded, but there was nothing there that should have triggered an ache. Oh, well.
Touchy is kneading his paws on the blanket on the couch, next to me. That's just about the most exciting thing going on around here.

Some people who shall remain nameless have wondered about my blog name. "What is a fearless kiti? Why are you so weird?" My predisposition toward weirdness may be genetic but is none too certain; I can, however, address other questions.

Q. Are you really fearless?
A. No, but I wish I were, and perhaps I can achieve it through power of suggestion.

Q. Is your name really Kiti?
A. It's really my nickname.

Q. Do you really dance through life?
A. I approach life with an attitude ranging from a light-hearted jig to a dramatic Dying Swan adagio. Occasionally, I am siezed by fits of belly dancing.

More WWW on the weekends

Brought to you by my love of cats, computers, and humor:
http://www.dansdata.com/kitten.htm

Brought to you by my finding a large number of quiz-type things on someone else's blog: The idea is that you reveal little tidbits of information about yourself; this one caught my eye because it is arranged in a specific, orderly way (items of interest in alphabetical order).

The ABC’s Of Me:
A – Age: Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?
B – Bands: Good Charlotte comes to mind.
C – Career of Future: University professor; performer.
D – Dad’s Name: John
E – Ethnic Background: TCK mutt with American passport: German, Swedish, English, Welsh, Indonesian, Papuan.
F – Favorite Song at Moment: My happy music is "Rainbow Connection," punk, or a really good Strauss waltz.
G – Great Escape: Public library!
H – Hometown: Fullerton, CA
I – Instrument: Flute, piano, vocal chords
J – Job Title: Engineer/scientist
K – Kids: Not yet.
L – Last Person You Talked to On the Phone: Christina
M – Mom’s Name: Linda
N – Number of Siblings: 3
O – Oldest Living Relative: My great-aunt Dorothy, maybe.
P – Phobias/Fears: Failure. Large dogs.
Q – Favorite Quote: Oh, so many. Lots from *The Simpsons* or *MST3K*. Or *Buffy,* old movies, or Noel Coward. Or this one, from real life: “When Tara Reid says you're partying too much, surely it's time for some self-reflection.” (http://nola.com/living/t-p/index.ssf?/base/living-4/1108490156223590.xml)
R – Religion: Christian, straight-up.
S – Song You Sang Last: “Mad Dogs and Englishmen," while standing in line at D-land.
T – Time You Wake Up: 6:00 or 6:30, if I’m lucky, on weekdays.
U – Unknown Fact About Me: If I write it here, then it wouldn’t be unknown anymore, would it? But a little-known fact is that I like country music, but only the good old kind, like Tex Ritter or Patsy Cline.
V – Vegetable You Hate: Technically, it’s not a vegetable, but I really loathe the lima bean.
W – Worst Habit: Criticizing people.
X – X-rays You’ve Had: My mouth, at the dentist. My hand, when I got my pinkie caught in the edge of an airport security conveyer belt—I was very young at the time.
Y – Yummy Food: Asian food; sweet potatoes; guavas; anything chocolate; peanut butter; ice cream.
Z – Zodiac Sign: Traditional/celestial—Leo (yes, the cat). Chinese—Snake!

The end of an era

We had our final trip to Disneyland today, at least the last trip we'll have with these annual passes. They expire on Monday, and we won't be able to go Sunday or Monday, so today (Saturday) was the last day we'll be able to go. We cannot renew anymore, because the annual passes have become prohibitively expensive (yet another of Disney's recent poor financial and operational decisions).
We came to the park at 10 am, and the weather was pouring rain, intermittently, and either sprinkling or displaying blue sky and sunshine during the intermittent times. We met up with Christina and the Winters, and had a great time in between rain drops. We went on all the great rides (except for Space Mountain, which was closed, and Splash Mountain, which was closed and I don't like it anyway--too wet and cold), starting with Indy, Pirates, and the Haunted Mansion. We had lunch at the Riverbelle Cafe or whatever it is--lots of folks like the clam chowder in bread bowls, but I think all their food is bland and nasty. Anyway, we continued with Big Thunder Mountain, after which Ben and Amanda took their leave, and then the Fantasy Land rides--Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, Storybook Land Boat Ride (I love the miniatures!), and Matterhorn. We watched the Snow White stage show--it was not very good--and went over to California Adventure for Soarin' over California. Christina then left to pursue some other activities, and Jeff and I were left to explore A Bug's Land (the little twirly ride--I have fun pretending I'm the miniature!). Then it was back to Fantasy Land for the Storybook Land Ride at night (to see the miniatures with their lights) and the Peter Pan ride (I love cute little evil Tinker Bell). Jeff took me by the Carnation Pavilion, where there was a swing band, and we danced to a few songs--so sweet, even if it reminded me that we need to get out and dance more often! All in all, it was a nice Disneyland trip, and due to the rain (which actually cleared up by mid-day anyway), there were not too many people there, and the lines were some of the shortest I've ever seen.
We'll get to go to Disneyland again, I'm sure. Amanda has promised to sign us in or get us complimentary tickets, and we might get passes again when our finances are stronger. But it was still a good way to enjoy our passes at the end of this year.
We've come home to get warm and dry, and I ate a little something, and now we are sacked out on couches. I'm trying to drink plenty of water, since I didn't drink a lot during the day. We're sure to go to bed before long.

Later on...

Well, I am sitting on the couch watching Gold Diggers of 1933. I highly recommend it, of course. It's nice to be just sitting, warm in a blanket, on a comfy couch. I've been cold and sad today--two persistent maladies of my life. But my Touchy-kitty has come and cuddled with me, and Hobbes-kitty has been wrestling my hand with his claws and teeth. Jeff went to bed early, being so tired; I'm tired, too, but I can't go to bed yet or I'll be restless. So I'm watching an old movie and feeling better bit by bit.
We didn't have roommate night tonight, since Elizabeth had an orientation meeting for her Israel trip, and Sara and I both had to work late.
I think I'd like to be a hermit, but in a warm apartment, not a cold cave. It would be lovely to be by myself for hours at a time, and just do my own thing. I suppose entering a Ph.D. program would have a similar effect, though.

"People have hearts; we must reach them somehow."

Blossoms in the Dust--Vivacious Greer Garson is forced to be noble and long-suffering, but she has her usual fire and sparkle. Garson portrays Edna Gladney, who fought to end rampant bigotry against illegitimate children, due to their status being kept on their records and following them throughout their lives. In this permissive age, it is difficult to recall that a mere one hundred years ago (even less, actually), children of ill-reputed parents were assumed to be predisposed to immoral behavior, and bias against them ran strong. In the 1940s, when this film was made, such attitudes were still being fought, and I found this film to be courageous and forward-thinking for its time, when illegitimacy was an issue barely mentioned among decent people, and the film itself is sometimes cagey about expressing the issue--terms like "foundling" are used, rather than a more blatant word like "bastard". There is a sensitivity that I would not have immediately expected from a movie of that era: note the scene at the end where a police officer brings in two children that have obviously been taken from a brothel; see also the black children that are occasionally included among Ms. Gladney's charges, without differential treatment.
Seek out this movie, which is available on VHS, if not DVD. It's tear-jerking and heart-warming at the same time, and may open our eyes to past and current prejudices, reminding us that all of us, great or small, are beautiful creatures made in God's image.
"There are no illegitimate babies. There are only illegitimate parents."

There's your weekly dose of movie wisdom. I myself am going to the dentist (more fillings--whoopee) and then to work, so my day is looking to be busy but hardly exhilarating. Yesterday (when I didn't post) I worked, had lunch with Josh, and then Jeff and I went over to Josh and Laurel's place to study in the evening. Oh, the mad whirl of life!

How much wood WOULD a woodchuck chuck...

...if a woodchuck COULD chuck wood?

It's a quick lunch at work, and I thought I'd put up something interesting, in honor of Sunday's Grammy awards.

Fun facts: The first Grammy awards were held for 1958. Perry Como and Ella Fitzgerald were best male and female vocal performers, respectively. Henry Mancini won for best record of the year--Music from Peter Gunn (which I've played, and it is very good music). "Nel Blu Dipinto Di Blu" won for best song (it's the one that goes "Volare, oh-oh"), which is curious and must be a matter of taste, since I've never been crazy about that song, and in the year of Gigi and The Music Man, you have to wonder what people were thinking in voting for something that I personally consider less than tuneful or wittily lyrical. Anyway, other winners for 1958 included Louis Prima and Keely Smith ("That Old Black Magic" as best group vocal performance--I concur; it's a great song with great singers performing a great arrangement), Count Basie, the Kingston Trio ("Tom Dooley" as best country/western performance), Nelson Riddle (for best composition), Andres Segovia (best classical instrumental performance), David Seville (the name's not particularly familiar, but he won for the perennial favorite "The Chipmunk Song"), and STAN FREBERG (Woohoo! Although one must wonder why he was overlooked for best comedy performance, and won only best documentary or spoken word).

Nice information for you.

Monday, Monday

I actually wrote this last night, but didn't get a chance to post until now.

Adu salah! I am actually in class—Cults of America, and we have a guest lecturer: Ken Samples from Reasons to Believe. He is talking about Seventh-Day Adventists. Somehow, I can listen and take notes, and type this, all at the same time. I am supposedly connected to the internet, here in Rood 55, but the signal is very weak, so I can’t really be on my blog real-time.

Well, in my categorization of weekdays, Monday is the special day set aside for gripes and pet peeves. And you know what I really hate? Automatically flushing toilets. They don’t seem to work very well, they are often wasteful (flushing unnecessarily, multiple times), and it is annoying when they flush before you are complete, while you are sitting on the toilet, thus splashing toilet water all over your rear end, with all of the difficulties and discomforts attendant with such an event. Blah!

I was thinking more about the issues of last week, wondering about Marx, and what it means to be oppressor and/or oppressed. I stated last week that I, as a worker, am exploited by (1) the U.S. government and (2) those who willfully live in such a way as to be dependent on the government (i.e. taxpayers) for financial support and even survival. People laughed, particularly Naomi, but after thinking about it, I realized that in the sense of Marx’s definition of exploitation (to receive as a result of another’s labor a profit in excess of that which said laborer has received in exchange for his or her labor), I am exploited, and possibly, by extension, oppressed. The government does have right and reason to receive from me certain sums of money commensurate with their contributions to my well-being and that of the country; it is my strong belief, at the same time, that I do pay a little more than I receive in return. Oh, well, ‘twer ever thus, I suppose. I am becoming more and more confident that by Marx’s standard, I am exploited by those who are on welfare; they receive a lot more from me (money via the labor I put forth that is taxed) than I receive in return for my labor (I receive nothing from them—I don’t ask for much—maybe they could come wash my car or something? That’s just a little bit of labor.). Anyway, those are thoughts on exploitation of me. But don’t stop there! (In Apu’s voice: Silly customer! You cannot harm the Twinkie, and you cannot become wise if you stop reading Deb’s thoughts halfway through!) Marx harangues against exploitation and oppressors (with good reason), but is exploitation always bad? From one standpoint, the entirety of Christianity is based upon exploitation—our exploitation of God’s free grace. We essentially offer nothing to God, while receiving everything. We exploit Christ’s perfect righteousness, giving Him in exchange our sin.
I believe that Marx had no place for God in his view, and excluded Him intentionally, because there was no place in Marx’s system for a perfectly giving Being, with free grace and blessings for all. There was no way for Marxism to operate in a universe that contained a Being Who has everything, and yet gives it all away, to those beneath Him, demanding nothing in return.

There's even more to think about...

WWW (Wild World Web) Weekends

The Internet is full of plenty of good clean fun. You can be occupied for hours, often without hurting anyone or anything except your social life, and possibly your eyesight.

Try this one: http://www.smalltime.com/dictator.html
It works for most movie and TV characters, not just sitcoms.
See if you can stump it! I stumped it with Mr. Peabody from "Peabody's Improbable History" in "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle."

By the way, I'm just curious. Is anyone reading here?

Fantastic Friday Fashion Fun!!

I like clothes. Sure, I can be a no-nonsense engineer and scientist, and a cynical and studious academic, but I also like lots of girlie stuff, like scrapbooking and knitting and clothes. I was not very fashionable as a young girl, but I read plenty of books on historical costume, fashion, and design. Now, I still read books, as well as reading magazines like Vogue and W (which is a name I've never quite understood; I know what Vogue means, but what does W stand for?). My personal style has slightly improved, but I always wish I had more and cooler clothes.

One of the best books I have ever seen on style and design is Those Glorious Glamour Years, by Margaret Bailey. It chronicles clothing designed for films of the 1930s. The sheer volume of the information and photographs, displaying painstaking research and attention to detail, more than make up for the few shortcomings, which are poor copy editing (plenty of spelling and typographical errors) and rather dull graphic design. TGGY features plenty of gorgeous women in gorgeous clothes, with chapters on fashions for evening, day, sports, bedroom, and historical epics. Superstars like Davis, Lombard, Dietrich--all are very evident, as well as many other talented beauties, less well-remembered, such as Claire Trevor, Fay Wray, Madeleine Carroll, and dozens more. One can see the evolution of styles from the early to the late 1930s, identifying major and minor trends. And any student of design can learn from the genius of Adrian in his development of the images of luminaries at MGM: Crawford, Garbo, and Shearer. See beautiful costumes from The Women, Prisoner of Zenda, Gone With the Wind, several DeMille films, et al. Understand the use of clothing and accessories to develop characters and advance plots. And most of all, just look at the pictures! Dream about maybe, someday, having an outfit a little bit like that... I'm actually learning to sew, and soon, I'll be wearing vintage 30s suits and gowns. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to get away with hats.

It was a hard day today. I was exhausted, for some reason, had a hard time getting up this morning, and struggled to focus at work. I went to the eye doctor for a follow-up visit, after getting new contacts last week, and also had a dilation procedure. Jeff called me during the examination, telling me to drive to the Winters', rather than driving home, as he and Ben wanted to go out to the Lazy Dog Cafe after a long hard day at work. Amanda and I took her new car (the red convertible VW Bug) down to Huntington Beach, meeting the guys at the restaurant. We had a good dinner, and now Jeff and I are ensconced on the couch, watching Sci Fi Friday.

I absolutely must do homework and housework tomorrow!

Follow-up to Thursday

Big news in the world of film and theatre: Noted American playwright Arthur Miller has died, on Thursday, February 10, 2005. Miller wrote classics such as "Death of a Salesman" and "The Crucible." He also married, in a bizarre turn of events that some still wonder about, film actress Marilyn Monroe (making her, for several months, Marilyn Miller, also an odd turn of events). Miller was 89, and still actively involved in writing and theatre.

Thursday is for...

...Theatre and film! I know everyone was just waiting to find out.

What to do, what to do? Which movie should I review? Well, today I will just provide general commentary on classic film. I love good old movies. I can't think of anything better than watching a great musical number or seeing a fabulous scene from a romantic comedy.
A few great classics you should see, if you haven't already:
The Wizard of Oz (1939)
The Thief of Baghdad (1941)
It Happened One Night (1934)
The Philadelphia Story (1940)
The African Queen (1951)
42nd Street (1933)
Stage Door (1937)
Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

Watch them, and then come talk to me!

Now, I'm tired. I must go to bed, to recharge for tomorrow.
To-do list for tomorrow includes:
-Read Nietzsche (Note: This freakish guy had FIVE consonants in a row in his name!)
-Laundry
-Go to optometrist
-Cook dinner
[I'm following my sister's example of putting to-do lists and schedules in her blog, b/c it helps her keep to them. We'll see if it works for me.]

Ouchy-wawa!

I went to the dentist today, and got some fillings. The right side of my face was numb for several hours, and when the numbing wore off, it started to ache. It's not excruciating pain, it's just low-level "my teeth have been injected and drilled and filled with a foreign substance" ache. But it still painful!

Now Jeff and I are watching "Family Guy". Stewie turned into mutant octopus boy. I'm about to head off to Roommate Night Bible Study with Sara and Elizabeth.

Wednesday is for literature and art...

...or something like that. I'm cooking dinner, and it occurs to me that the humble cookbook is one of the greatest literary innovations ever. As I noted last night, everybody needs to eat, and a cookbook provides a compact, yet useful and often meaningful vehicle by which to pass on humankind's information regarding how to feed oneself and others. It can convey how-to information on lifestyle and diet, as well, and imbue its users with anything from homeyness (like Mom) to sophistication (like Martha Stewart, pre-incarceration).

The featured cookbook of today is a rare, now out-of-print tome, The TMF Cookbook. It was available for a short time only, to missionary ladies of Irian Jaya (now known as West Papua, and variously known at various times as Dutch New Guinea, Netherlands New Guinea, West Irian, and Papua Barat). While it has not achieved the fame of, say, In the Kitchen with Rosie, or even Fannie Farmer's Cookbook, The TMF Cookbook is one of the great examples of a cookbook that was targeted to a very specific group of people, and works wonderfully for them, but also manages to be useful to nearly anyone else (although I cannot imagine that Innuits of the Arctic or the Laps of Scandinavia would find it compelling, but, well, I wouldn't dream of marketing anything to those people groups anyway). Another great example of a specific-yet-versatile cookbook is that classic, the More-with-Less Cookbook. But I digress. If you need directions on how to make, store, and fancy up pretty much anything, particularly if you live in the jungle with nothing at your disposal but rice, spam, and tropical fruit, TMF Cookbook is for you. If you long to bake from scratch with sago flour, make simple but elegant puddings, or serve up authentic Indonesian dishes, it's still exactly what you need. If you are living in the urban United States, but want to create quick and practical yet tasty and impressive meals, you can still get what you need from this fabulous book. And for those of you who have just picked up a large pack of sago grubworms from Costco, but just don't know how to fix them, look no further, for to the best of my knowledge, TMF Cookbook is the only cookbook that offers recipes for these rare but delectable invertebrates. [Be wary, however, for some folks--like my brother--are allergic to grubworms, and can suffer and even die from anaphylactic shock.] For future reference, here is the recipe.

Sago Grubs (courtesy of Ruth Roesler, a great lady whose son Neil died just a few months ago, while he himself was also serving God, as a missionary pilot in West Papua):
Wash live grubs (Beware, they can bite). Put on cutting board and slice off heads and ends of tails. Pour off any juice being careful of clothes--tho clear at first it turns black and stains clothing. Heat frying pan. Place grubs in hot pan with only a minimum of oil to keep from sticking. They will soon cook in their own fat. Let fry down to little brown fingers. Salt. Serve like tiny link sausages.
Yum! Yum! You can't eat just one!

Back in real life, I was sick today, and stayed home from work. My coworker Cheryl was sick earlier in the week, with a severe flu, and I wonder if I caught what she had. *sigh* On the plus side, I watched a few old movies (The Divorcee and The Jazz Singer) and got some reading and laundry done.

Now Laurel is visiting us for our weekly study night, and I am about to begin actual studying. Goodness knows I have plenty to do.

Tuesday is fact day

Yes, it's a probable regular feature. Each day of the week will provide fodder for some random bit of info or subject. Tuesday will feature fun and interesting facts from the world of science and history.

French poet Rene Francois Armand "Sully" Prudhomme was the first writer to receive a Nobel Prize for literature. (1901)
Swedish novelist Selma Lagerlof was the first woman to receive the Nobel Prize in literature. (1909) Side note: Her first novel, Gosta Berlings Saga, was later filmed with a very young Greta Garbo in the cast.
Sinclair Lewis was the first American writer to receive the Nobel Prize for literature. (1930)
As far as I could tell, the Nobel Prize for literature has not yet been awarded to an Indonesian or Papuan writer.
Now you have some not-particularly-useful knowledge.

Today was a busy day, as most of my days are. At work, I did my usual "run about with the data" thing, as well as holding a meeting to deal with a possible optical unit problem that could negatively impact toaster performance (those who are curious will be glad to discover that I work for a large technical company, keeping an eye on kitchen toaster accuracy and reliability). I was less prepared than I usually would be, because I had had a certain theory about what could be causing certain problems, and the data indicated that my theory was wrong, so I had to ditch the hypothesis and come into the meeting with some good information and a plea to the various experts to help me develop a hypothesis matrix. In the end, I discovered that I just have to gather more data, before I can formulate a hypothesis--tedious, perhaps, but it could be worse; I could be teaching kindergarten.

At any rate, I grabbed some food (having not eaten since breakfast) on my way to class, which was Torrey discussion on Marx. Now there's somebody who would never have won the Nobel for literature, even if it had existed when he was around! It was pretty standard, and I felt that my brain really was stretched a little, even if I always get frustrated with Marx, in that it is easy for me to identify what the flaws are in his theory, but it is difficult for me to articulate them.

Now it's late, late, late and time for me to hop into bed and prepare for another lively day tomorrow. I have to wonder, though--Am I an oppressor or an oppressed? Is it possible to be neither, or both? Is a human being really merely the end result of his or her economic circumstance? One thing is certain: Every man and woman, whether bourgeois or proletariat, whether mighty or weak, is biologically bound to the need for sleep and sustenance. So at the most basic level, we are already equal anyway. It's in the way the needs are played out, and the manner in which they are, or are not, met, that the differences among people become apparent.

Still working on it...

I'm learning bits of HTML and utilizing things I've found available on Blogger.
I'm also learning how to put pictures in this thing.

At this moment, I'm doing double-duty--typing here while watching the Superbowl Simpsons. Heehee! After all these years, The Simpsons still has the ability to make me laugh.

Tomorrow, I'll do the usual thing. I have work all day, then class in the evening. I'll have to fit a chiropractor appointment, a workout, and homework time, somewhere in there.

Now American Dad is beginning. I've not seen it before, but it looks like Family Guy 2. But with Joe and Bonnie, sort of. But without Stewie. I love Stewie. American Dad is distinctly inferior.

The more that came...

Significantly, many people have been bugging me to get a blog for quite some time. I resisted, somewhat, because I had no idea what I would do with it. I don't have a particularly interesting life, and who would want to read about it, anyway? Who has read about it in the past few days? Most likely nobody, since only three people yet know of its existence.

Well, I've always wanted to be a columnist, opining about some of my favorite things, like music, movies, fashion, and culture. Maybe I can carve such a niche for myself in cyberspace. I'll tell people about my venture into the world of weblogs, and they can offer feedback.

Sound like a plan? Okay? Okay.

Entering the fray

I've entered the world of weblogging. The Fearless Kiti is wired up and ready to go.

It's Friday night, and Ben and Amanda are visiting. We thought it would be fun to look at Amanda's blog, get her a permanent background image, and then sign me up for one, as well.

More to come...