Happy 200th!

By all accounts I should be working on homework or sleeping, but fuck it. I'm here, and welcome to this, the 200th episode of Hasta la Byebye!

Looking back at my archives, it's staggering to see how few posts I've managed to spread out over the years. So many words unwritten, so many beautiful memories forever obscured. Naturally the archives mean so much more to me because it is my life they detail, but I do wish, for the sake of pasts past, that I had written more. Not just so that today I could look back and smile and reminisce, but rather so that I could have been a more complete person to friends, estranged friends and strangers. My life would likely not be radically different, but it sure would be nice--and it's always fun to think about the small ways that smaller changes in your life might have changed the person you have become. On a grander scale, I considered a similar question for Spain and her civil war in the 1930s. Not to say that I know much about the Spanish Civil War (Franco... George Orwell...), but it's interesting to think about. What if Spain had actually fought in World War II? Or what if Turkey had? What if Kemal Atatürk hadn't died in 1938? What if Turgut Özal hadn't thrown open Turkey's doors? What if Matthew Perry hadn't forcibly thrown open Japan's doors?

It's kind of a fun trail to follow sometimes--and that was all just in the realm of international politics. Just think of what might have happened if I'd actually thought about something else. Like goats!

Speaking of goats (and the Spanish Civil War), I saw Pan's Labyrinth today. I have to admit that after all the hype and all the comparisons to Children of Men, I was somewhat disappointed. The movie was very good, but it was nothing at all like Children of Men, a horrifying dystopia. Pan's Labyrinth was just a real, not-nearly-as-bad-as-it-could-have-been-even-though-it-was-still-bad dystopia. The misery of the people and the atmosphere didn't have nearly the same role in either movie, and following little Ofelia was not at all the same as following Clive Owen around. I think I'd like to see it again, this time without expecting Children of Men "but better". Plus, it always warms the cockles of my heart to see goaties portaryed in cinema, even if they are extremely creepy and way too leggy.

Oh, and I am indeed going to try out for that columnist job. At least I think I am. I need to gather together approximately 600 words in a coherent and newsworthy piece of opinion, and I need to do it within about 24 hours. Originally I was thinking of writing about the seeming blind devotion that Jewish organizations in the United States feel toward the foreign policy of Israel, even when within Israel such foreign policy is actually debated. Then I realized I didn't know nearly enough about what I'd be talking about to write that, especially considering that lingering (or more than lingering) worldwide anti-Semitism requires that extra caution be taken when writing about Jews. If I get the job, I might try doing some research and writing about it later, but until then that's going to have to go to the back-burner. But, if I have any Jews out there who at all identify themselves as Jewish, I'd totally like to interview you if I get the job and after I figure out some questions.

So I need a subject for that column. And quickly. I was thinking about maybe something in Africa, since college students are one of the few demographics that might actually care about reading something like that. But that would probably also require a level of factuality that I don't have time to submit to if I want to do things like finish my differential equations homework. Reading through some columns that were actually published in the Daily Texan, it doesn't seem like the standards for opinion writing are too high. Sure, it's always easier to judge when you're not cranking out the words, but I honestly think I have a real shot to match or exceed those standards. Still, though, the problem of topiclessness is kind of pressing. I considering trying my hand at the minimum wage debate, but that old thing is old and hackneyed, and I doubt that I'd be able to make a convincing enough argument to justify bringing it out.

Also, I failed to mention that I'm supposed to really have two columns. Yeah. The fellow who interviewed me (maybe the editor?) told me I could just copy and paste some things from my blog if I wanted to. Somehow I'm not sure that that will be enough. Maybe. And maybe I could go back through those old archives and find inspiration. My opinions are golden and unique, after all. There are simply mountains of treasure hidden in this blog waiting for me to tap in and send them to the press. Oh well. I'll figure out something.

Meanwhile, I really need to grab a bite to eat. I'm starving. And the night is young. I wish I were wise enough to just do my necessary work and go to sleep. Such is the price of youth and awesomeness, I guess. Also, I believe it is time that I start a new tradition on this 200th episode of Hasta la Byebye: no more will this blog's title be needed to close a post. From now on it's optional. That way I don't have to create awkward semi-demi-paragraphs just to say goodbye to you fine folks.

Thank you my small audience for reading what I have to write; there is little that I have done in my life that is more gratifying than having even a miniscule group of semi-devoted readers, and that's a testament to the power of attention. Especially for an attention whore like myself. There's still a lot more writing to do, a lot more irate and incoherent babbling to be published; and I intend to go on until I can no longer tap at these keys. Thanks for stopping in. And for the sake of old traditions and cherished memories existing at least on the internet, hasta la byebye.

Posting frenzy!

Since I sometimes show a passing interest in the news on this blog, I would like to express my agreement with this article on Free Exchange, another (the only other?) of Economist.com's blog-type-things. Yes, so I kind of take whatever The Economist feeds me like a spoon-fed giant baby. Well, not really. I just happen to usually agree with them. And then sometimes I don't, like that time we went into Iraq. They thought it was a good thing; and granted, I didn't read them back then, but I'm just sayin'... for all the haters (who I am Stalinesquely and Bushly striking at before they can strike me).

But yes! The minimum wage increase be evil, yar.

And I'll stop myself there before my nutrient-starved brain starts making me mumble incoherent things about politicians and stupid pooheads and whatnot. Stupid Caribou Coffee granola bar and its stupid inability to sate me. And its stupid coffee-flavored, bad-breath-inducing strip of sugar on the underside. I feel gross.

So hasta la byebye, kids. This is your goaty Turk, signing off.

Teehee

On Democracy in America, one of the blog-type things run by Economist.com, the most recent article's title is "Cluster Duck". Naturally, I giggled. I'm pretty sure there was no mention of duckies in the blog, but I love this line: "They are nasty devices that open up and spray hundreds of little bomblets (file that with "Little Boy" under "cutest names for gruesome weapons") over a large target area." I guess it's kind of morbid to love a line talking about weapons of war, but bomblets is an extremely cute name.

The post mentions that it's likely Israel used cluster bombs in civilian areas while it was otherwise killing Lebanon. In 1982. The Israelis do have a history of quarreling with their neighbors. The post also mentions how we've been using cluster bombs in Iraq. Yeah...

This whole "let's exercise our hard power" thing that the neoconservatives seem to like really doesn't work. I wish Bush had a team of real international politicians. Real international politicians would simply tell Mr. Bush either, "Forget about democracy, it ain't happening," or, "Let's try to achieve democracy through institutions." I can see why Mr. Bush doesn't have real international politicians, since neither one of these options sounds fun. "We can just bring democracy to them quickly and easily, with guns," sounds way cooler. It's really a pity that it never has worked--nor will it ever work. Stupid neoconservatism.

Anyway, I have to leave for class in... now. So, that being said, hasta la byebye, my friends.

P.S. Danielle r0x0rs. My b0x0rs. It's been years since I've said that.

This Post Has a Title!

You may have noticed that I titled this entry. Now people won't see the first few words of my posts, which usually consist of something like, "I am tired today. My cat had an enema..."

But I am tired today, and if I had a cat I would give the thing an enema. That's how I roll. I also discovered that I'm doing just fine in my differential equations class--at least compared to the kids who are getting all confused. And, despite the class's size, there are no jackholes yet. Kickass.

Just now, during dinner, I had a conversation with a fellow majoring in government. I was able to gather that: he liked and was overly proud of his really crappy-sounding job at the Texas Capitol; he doesn't know a thing about international relations or current affairs; he specializes in the "philosophical" side of government, but doesn't seem to have a very firm grasp on much of anything; he wants to get an MBA and he is taking a basic business course to help him get there; and he's not the most popular or socially-skilled guy here, and I don't think I'm doing myself any favors by associating and being friendly with him, especially since he just doesn't seem likeable. I wish I'd tried to desperately attach myself to the little coterie of males that I played poker with one of the first days I was here. They seem to be more my type.

And today in the lovely world of cooperative labor, I have been assigned the duty of Night Alice, which means that at some time in the night, I am to tidy up the kitchen and the eating areas for precisely one hour, at which point I stop what I'm doing and run away. My God do I not want to do that. I would rather go to sleep right now and wake up in about 14 hours, just in time to go to class. Who knows. I might accidently fall asleep right now. I'd have to pay $10 if someone notices that I'm not there, but I'm tired, yo. Alas, my duty to the cooperative will probably override all this.

Oh, and someone from the Daily Texan came to the co-op to try to get people to apply for a job as a columnist. I think I should do it. I'm really clever and really smart and really witty. Plus, I can tackle economic and political issues with a clarity and goatiness as yet unheard of in the world of college newspapers.

That'll be it for now. Happy Milton Friedman Day, everybody! Hasta la byebye!

I feel so terribly thrown off. It's past four in the morning, but because I collapsed into a nap right before dinner, I'm still awake, and until recently working on differential equations. My head kind of hurts now. The last equation was from hell (mostly because I divided by 2 somewhere and that made everything much harder--fun).

I also made the mistake of entering a poker tournament earlier tonight, which chewed up a couple of hours and a few dollars. My room is getting ever messier as I put things wherever the hell I feel like putting them and then forget to move them to where they belong. Books, chocolates, peanuts, pizza, cereal, a television, boxes, groceries, assorted crap. It would take about five minutes to arrange everything so it was all pretty, but instead of doing that of my own accord and make it easier for me to live and move around I will wait until someone has cause to enter my room at which point I will hastily try to do five minutes' worth of work about two minutes before they arrive. It's a good arrangement. Similar arrangements have gotten me through life so far, right?

According to The Economist's Style Guide, the word "gotten" is used much more frequently in America and thus should be mostly avoided in favor of "got" in the eponymous British newspaper. Just thought you should know.

I also get really excited when I get to use words like "eponymous". Makes me feel esoteric. And awesome.

I wish Danielle were here so she could use her magical powers of comfort to make me instantly fall asleep at this critical juncture when sleep provides me with more utility than blogging. However, I seem to be stuck in a bad equilibrium perpetuated by the fact that my ass does not want to leave this chair. Nor do I want to brush my teeth or doing anything else vaguely related to taking care of myself, since taking care of oneself is one of the most well-known of the slippery slopes. You start brushing your teeth, next thing you know you're trimming your finger nails, eating non-pizza food, washing your face every day despite the now-less-than-lukewarm water, going back to bed when someone is apparently hogging the TV room at 9AM to watch Star Wars, and picking all that shit up off the floor. No thanks. I'd rather stay here and get tired until I have no choice but to trip and stumble into bed.

At least my finger nails are trimmed. For now. Peace out, chiquitos. Pet a goat if you see one. Hasta la byebye.

I plan to wake up at 9 so I can watch the episode of Battlestar Galactica that I missed last week so that I can watch it this week and not feel all sad. I wonder why the hell I'm still awake. I also wonder if it's worth it.

My God, I blasphemed again. I'm sorry.

In other news, my refrigerator's freezer-type compartment is unable to keep icecream frozen, while my refrigerator's fridge-type compartment freezes my milk. I paid $150 for this contraption, damn it. Also, what the hell is up with differential equations and the fact that you lose solutions up the wazoo (sp?) if you start trying to do proper algebra? I mean, I solve for y, and suddenly all the solutions go away. The fuckers.

Oh, and in a desperate ploy to increase the number of people who don't come here entirely on accident, I have allowed the mysterious folks of the ORG to find it easily. I anticipate approximately an extra view per week. I can just smell the money now.

I need to clean my room. But I'll save that scintillating discussion for when you and I are both more awake, and when you are more receptive to the mundane realities of being awesome. With that being said, hasta la byebye, kids.

I am in a library. I am in a library and I have crippling gas. But I will not go and relieve this high-pressure situation in my intestines, instead choosing to make you, the moderately loyal reader, feel uncomfortable.

How about something more cheerful? I just got out of my microeconomics class, and right as I hung up after an immensely weighty conversation with Danielle, some signs came into view. "FREE HUGS". Naturally I started laughing. There were three gentlemen scattered throughout the courtyard in front of the main building, holding these signs. As I passed by, the one nearest to me offered a pack of girls some free hugs, but they declined. I considered demanding my own free hug, but I decided against it. Now I kind of wish I hadn't. It might make the gas less pressingly awful. That, and it would have been physical contact; like a tiny baby I require certain amounts of physical contact to be Turkishly awesome. Sadly, I'm running rather low right now. That's upsetting.

On an unrelated note, I don't like jackholes. Jackholes are people in your class who think they are better than everyone else, who speak a lot and thusly express their self-proclaimed superiority with their language and tone of voice, and who are in reality mediocre fuckwits. Having one of these traits is acceptable and in some cases necessary. Having two is usually annoying. Having all three makes you a jackhole. Now, I honestly can't prove the last condition on any of my classes' jackholes. Yet. But I assign provisional jackhole status to people who take it upon themselves to receive my ire. Just now, in my microeconomics class, there was some guy from UTSA who had apparently done this course before but had to take it again, much the same way as myself. This means that he gets to answer a lot of the professor's questions super fast. That is, assuming they are challenging enough to warrant his attention. Probably I am too sensitive to this guy's supposed jackholery because I've done this class before too and I have little to pay attention to at this point. It's well possible that I come off as a jackhole to others; who knows (I am after all superior and loud). That's why I'm only starting off with labeling them provisional jackholes. There is still the possibility of redemption.

I'm not too convinced of the possibility for this in my discrete math class. Yesterday we went over more logic-related things. The professor at one point presented us with a claim and a challenge to prove it, and she asked us to work in groups of three or four. If you're sitting in a corner far from other people, ignoring this last part is not a problem. If you're sitting between one guy and the rest of the class, don't be a jackhole. No sooner does the last word leave the professor's lips than does the fellow next to me immediately dig into his notebook, with nary a glance in any direction. The people behind me and in front of me were in their own little groups already, and I was stuck. Now don't get me wrong--I rather do not like working in groups. But when you're a new kid, and when you're in a new class, it's not a bad way to socialize and at least develop acquaintances whom you may giggle with from time to time.

So I was stuck there, left to do the proof by myself while the professor wondered aloud why everyone was being so quiet compared with her first class. Apparently no one particularly took to this group thing. The fellow to my left completed the proof after getting some help from the fellow to his left--which pissed me off. Does all of this make him a jackhole? No. But having a tone of voice and appearance similar to the fat beardy git in my calculus class at UHD is not good for your case. The guy to his left also seemed rather jackholish. I'd guess they're both underclassmen majoring in math. I hope never to sit near them or others like them again.

And now, even though the gas is currently in hiding, I believe I'll leave the library and exorcise it. And then grab a bite to eat. Hope you kids are hungry! Hasta la byebye.

So irritated. And bitchy too. About five minutes ago I sent TextbooksRus.com an email telling them I'd report them to the police if they did not comply with my demands. Maybe that was coming on a bit too strong. But still, I am very displeased with them. They've sent me two emails so far which pretty much say the same thing--which is that I could return the book (at my own expense, of course). Partly because it's infeasible for me to do that and partly because the principle of having to pay for something that was entirely the vendor's fault rankles me, I'm digging my heels.

I can't imagine that whichever idiot was responsible for ordering and/or misrepresenting the "new international editions" is having a fun time right now at that company. I can't be the only anal-retentive baby economist, after all.

Anyway, I'm presently using the space in between a math class and a math discussion to vegetate on the internet and not answer my mother's telephone call. No, I'm not screening. I'm in a library. I have courtesy, homies.

And before I forget, I would like to lament the murder of Hrant Dink, who was shot twice in the head (if I recall) outside his newspaper's headquarters in Turkey. An Armenian-Turkish journalist who advocated greater links between Turks and Armenians, and one of many journalists, writers and social scientists arrested over the past year for "insulting Turkishness", Mr. Dink's loss is something rather more than unfortunate in a state that could use every good mind and pen it can get its hands on and a society clinging to its awkward but immense nationalism.

That's all for today, loyal viewers. The past couple of days have been slow for Hasta la Byebye, but I know you'll be coming back. That said, peace out. (And hasta la byebye.)

I feel like I wasted more time than I meant to. It's not too egregious a waste, but I'm still awake now and working. Specifically, I'm reading the first chapter of a text on globalization. It's dry enough and certainly jargonny enough to force me to squint and scratch my head. Aside from even sociological terms that I would not be familiar with in any case, I come across words like phenomenological. Phenomenological! Pertaining to phenomena, apparently--or more denotatively, pertaining to experiences. My God do I hate when sociologists take it upon themselves to make introduce themselves with alternating fluff and density.

Also, I failed to finish any of the difficult problems for my differential equations class. Granted, there's only two that I'd really term difficult, but I can't solve one of them for the correct answer, and the other one I can't solve at all. And I don't have any of my books save this globalization text and that differential equations book. I hope they get in soon.

I realized too that I haven't yet informed you extremely curious kids about what classes I'm taking, so here's a nice simple list:

Differential Equations
Discrete Mathematics
Intermediate Microeconomics
Economic Statistics
Globalization (which would fall under the realm of sociology, apparently)

It adds up to a scrumptious 17 credit hours. But of course it's upsetting. I'm pretty sure I already know most of what I'm going to learn in both of my economics classes; sadly, the economics department at UT requires those two classes and intermediate macroeconomics to be taken in residence. Thankfully I'm in the honors section of micro, and we get to make a mathematical model about something for the end of the year in lieu of having a final. I'm actually looking forward to that, since mathematical modeling will be one of those skills that would come in handy as an economics graduate student.

My professors do all seem cool though, and the only one who the ratings said wasn't too good speaks with a heavy Ukrainian accent but is otherwise cool. And he's teaching the statistics class, so I don't think he can hurt me. One of these days though, I would like to take a statistics class with someone who speaks English fluently, clearly and without a strong accent. At least my math professors fit that bill. And one of them's a Kiwi! Whose name is Alistair Windsor!

Anyway, that's more than enough senseless babbling for this young Turk. I finish with the triumphant declaration that I arranged the baking of a goat-shaped chocolate chip cookie which is presently residing in some unknown individual's tummy. Now I just need to find a way to make pictures go from my telephone to my computer. Cheaply. With that I leave you. Hasta la byebye!

P.S. Of course you should write me, Cathy. I miss hearing about your life. Hope you had fun helping your brother move in while hijacking his phone.

I tried and failed to finish off It Can't Happen Here last night after all that noise-making ceased. After stopping short, I went to bed at some time that was probably near 3:30 and got up four hours later. This leaves me with thirty pages of reading to do but absolutely no energy with which to do it. Also, I didn't end that last sentence with a preposition, which pisses me off. Ah. Much better. Going out of my way to obey obscure and not-entirely-proper rules of grammar--that's the sort of shit up with which I will not put, to mangle the words of the great, stodgy Winston Churchill.

Taking a nap would be a great cure for my ills, except if I did that I might not wake up in time for dinner at 6 sharp. And I've already missed breakfast because it didn't exist and lunch because I was in class, so I'll be damned if I'm going to miss out on the dinner that I'm paying for with my hard-earned financial aid.

Also, I got a textbook yesterday in the mail. But instead of being the nifty international edition (the one with pretty pictures and nice paper which is different only in ISBN and the fact that it's "international"), it was the shitty international edition (also known as the Indian edition, which is what everyone used to refer to when they talked about the international editions of textbooks back in the 80s; it's printed with no color and on crappy paper and the cover's all orange and ugly). The book was supposed to be a steal at $40, but the Indian edition is available for like... $8. The vendor made clear that I would be getting the pretty international as opposed to poopoo. So I sent off an email to the people at their customer support, but I still haven't heard back from them. I tried to call their phone support too, but when I finally got through, no one was there. In case you guys roll with the internet purchasing of books, the vendor was Textbooksrus.com. They're actually one of the better and safer names in the industry, and I'm all sad that they're not answering my email. I think I should threaten them with negative publicity on this blog, which now reaches approximately twelve distinct viewers a week if you count the people who came here by accident. That'll show 'em.

Anyway, I just remember that I haven't showered yet today. I guess I could do that and thereby maybe hopefully wake up a bit more.

Showering in the afternoon every day is weird. And that's all for today, Sports Racers (just kidding, you guys aren't Sports Racers, only I am.)

Hasta la byebye!

The Albanian guy who is the head of maintenance for our cooperative (and thus in charge of eventually fixing the still-not-fixed lack of hot water), who lives in the next room over, is blaring techno music--just turned to rap. He's also periodically yelling, "JIMMY!" and he was just singing happy birthday with some girls.

Honestly, I don't know if I mind. At least the techno. The techno was cool, though it puts me in the awkward position of not knowing when I'll actually get to bed. I'd originally hoped to be sleeping an hour ago, but I instead chose to dick around. At least I know it would have been a waste if I'd gone through with it.

Ooooo. They just said "let's go" and the music shut off. Suspense. Heheheheh. Someone else said, "Are we doing drugs?" That's funny.

But apparently the noise will be moving away from my vicinity. Hurray!

This has been a miniature episode of Hasta la Byebye. Peace out, bitches. And, for redundancy's sake, hasta la byebye.

Euuuuuggggh.

So, Tuesday and Wednesday were days off because of snow/sleet/ice/coldness. Laura mentions this a bit too, but with a terrible, terrible, awful pun. Sure, the pun could have been much less apt than it was, but I'm cranky. Why? Because it turns out the university doesn't open until 11AM today! Hahahahaha! What a funny joke! I don't think I got that memo until 3:19AM this morning, by which point I'd gone to bed so I could get up nice and early for class. It's funny because they seemed to have posted the information on the main page, but they didn't bother to email anyone (like they had to inform people of Tuesday's and Wednesday's holidays) until it was irrelevant.

I also had the distinct pleasure of learning this morning that I could buy unspecified amounts of Soma for $1.13 and that one of the books I ordered two days ago was sold out. I might just take someone up on that Soma deal and rock out to The Strokes while doing it. Take that, Aldous Huxley!

And I don't have hot water still. But--praise the Lord--I experienced a miracle yesterday while showering, in that my water actually approached a temperature verging on warm towards the end of my shower, leading me to exultantly spin around under the (still trickling) showerhead. I'm still not entirely sure that I wasn't suffering a hypothermic hallucination, but we'll probably find out sometime this afternoon, after classes, when my room is warmer than it is presently.

Finally: Dan, I'm glad you stopped by. It's always fun to have an audience; particularly an audience that comments. However, I take issue with what you said about me expecting others to conform to my lifestyle, particularly that I was not chill for doing so. Because I don't expect that. I expect and accept that a lot of college students like to drink, and this poses an obstacle, because for a lot of these students drinking is an important part of social interaction. It's a bit harder to form strong friendships with people if you do not share in that social interaction, since you just can't spend as much time with them as the next joe. Compound this with the fact that I'm moving in in the spring, which is a time of few new people (I think 10 or so people out of 128 at this co-operative are new this semester), and the situation becomes a tad more difficult; after all, when there are lots of newbies, a community feels an obligation to do what it can to open up a bit more, and thusly integrate them a little bit easier. That obligation isn't as pronounced when the newbies are fewer and most circles of friends are largely intact. I'm sure I'll find my niche, but that's just going to take time, and in the meanwhile I'm going to feel awkward and occasionally lonely, and I'll surely blog about it. But I don't expect people to be carbon copies of me. I don't think you meant exactly what you said, but you still said it. I'm pretty sure I'm chill.

But don't stop commenting.

That's it for this morning, my dears. I'm going to bitch and moan to myself, and maybe sleep for another half hour. Peace out, and hasta la byebye.

I forgot part of the reason it was so hard for me to make friends at college: I don't drink.

I don't care if other people want to drink, and most people don't care if I don't want to drink, but it creates a barrier between me and everyone else, and it's so extremely frustrating. I hate large gatherings of people and I hate drunk people. How am I supposed to really fit in so that college isn't such a desperately lonely time of my life? Chances are it's easier than I'm making it out to be (in my present situation, at least), but when you feel awkward because of this propensity to drink early in the semester, when you don't know anyone and you feel the stranger, I'd say it's rather unpleasant and depressing. I'd like Danielle to be here right now. Or anyone. Just someone who's more than an acquaintance. I'd like to feel like it's okay not to socialize in massive groups all the time, and that it really is okay not to drink.

Also, class has been canceled for tomorrow too, so the general social atmosphere is likely to pervade even longer. All the while, I sit and hope very much that I can get into the groove of things and fit in. I very much like fitting in.

Hasta la byebye.

Guess what! My shower only shoots out lukewarm water! Fuck yeah!

I found this out on Saturday, which was the first full day I spent in my new (and now snazzily-painted) room at the Pearl Street Cooperative. Before I tried taking that shower, various attempts to run hot water in the faucet were unsuccessful, so I was already aware that everything wasn't precisely as it should be. Like a smart little male, I turned the shower on to its highest setting without actually getting in, and much as I expected, the water that flowed out was cold. Satisfied in having protected myself from hypothermia, I let the water continue running while I performed various mundane tasks on my computer. I checked back from time to time, noting little if any change in water temperature until finally there was a breakthrough. On the fourteenth or fifteenth test, the water proved to be warmer than my hand! I happily disrobed and jumped in.

As I turned the water towards my outstretched head to prepare for shampooing, I noticed something rather strange. Contrary to expectations, this water was cold. I hurriedly withdrew and looked at the showerhead with what was perhaps the most profound expression of betrayal ever to adorn my face. I sat there for a few seconds considering my options, which seemed constrained to: get out now and dry off and find some way to clean yourself later or just fight through the cold. I chose the latter, and I can hardly convey how miserable it was. In a room that was already colder than I liked, I had to wash my hair under a flaccid stream of barely-heated water. Yes, the stream was flaccid. I'd noticed that the water pressure was not particularly strong before I got in the shower, but such things are but mere annoyances when one has the immense luxury of hot water. As you can probably imagine, it was more than a mere annoyance then.

By the time I was to scrub the shampoo out of my hair, I was already shivering. Consequently, I didn't do a terribly good job washing it all out, which meant I got to experience the lovely feeling of my conditioner mixing in with the remnants of soggy shampoo and creating a mess on the top of my head (yes, I had to condition my hair--it's completely gross and unmanageable unless I do). Then I had to dance to keep warm while I tried to lather myself up while trying to avoid touching the water as much as possible. My muscles involuntarily tensed and relaxed to try to create a little bit more warmth for my poor body, and the whole affair was miserable. Rinsing off was also great fun, because it meant dancing under the trickling water while scrubbing vigorously to try to get all the soap off. I wasn't wholly successful in that endeavor, but at that point I didn't give a rat's ass, and I leapt out of the shower, dripping all over the place as I tried to dry my quivering self off.

I resolved after that that I would never take another shower in there until the hot water was restored.

Now, guess what I just did!

Good guess. On Sunday and Monday, I took showers at the house of our family friends, who happily sheltered me as I explained the horrors I was being subjected to in my bathroom. But then they took me back here, because I had class at 8AM today--or at least I was supposed to. Shortly after I got back, a news bulletin popped up, informing everyone that the university was to be closed Tuesday due to inclement weather (temperatures just below freezing, some ice, some snow--fucking babies). This meant that my plan to, if all else failed, shower at the UT gym was now null and void. So I reluctantly checked out my shower again. After running for a few minutes, this time I was able to detect water that definitely felt warmer than I remembered it being the last time I showered. So I went in, resolute.

I came out cursing and shivering.

But at least the wall my desk is against is now bright red. Now I just need to do something about the ominous yellow streaks on the white wall next to my bed. And the hot water.

Hasta la byebye, kids! I'm off to try to remember what warmth feels like!

P.S. You're right, Eric. I'm not sure how I made the error, since Sinclair Lewis's name is in large red letters on the front cover. Oh well--now all I have to do is finish it.

I'm listening to Demon Days by Gorillaz for the first time in a long while (not to mention that I'm blogging in the first time in a long while, but this'll be another short one). I'd forgotten just how much I love the line "it's my chocolate attack" in Feel Good Inc.. It's awesome. Gorillaz is a super-talented group of... whoever the hell they are. I want to give them all a big hug.

Also! I listened all the way through the newest Ericked Codies album--though not all in one sitting, so I won't say much--and I do believe I can identify strokes of genius. Especially track 38. Yes, 38, out of a total of 40. "You don't talk into the thing." Priceless!

Anyway, I have to go back to reading. What am I reading, you ask? Much to Eric's pleasure, It Can't Happen Here by Nathaniel West. That Berzelius Windrip is such a character! Hasta la byebye, kiddies!

P.S. I'm in Austin. More on that later, probably.