Dear Diary,

It has been two months since my last post. Please excuse this breach in correspondence. Internet access has been infrequent and used primarily as a vehicle for booking hostels and looking up train timetables.

With the aid of Europe's infinitely superior public transport system I have been volleyed across the South of France, hustled through Northern Spain, and jostled from city to Portuguese city. I have watched the sun set in Bordeaux and Burgos, Bayonne and Logrono, Pamplona, St Jean Pied de Port, Roncesvalles, Leon, Santiago, Lisbon, Porto, Coimbra, Afeiro and Sevilla.

There is too much to write about. Catching up would be a monstrous task. In lieu of words, I am posting a few select pictures.

Berit

BAR-celona

Estoy enamorado de esto ciudad. The most romantic place I have ever been. Eating continuously excellent food. Met an Australian guy who tried to convince me to do a line of coke off of his credit card in the bathroom of a bar in the Gothic District. Leaving Barcelona today to catch a 24 hour to St Jean Pied de Port. Left my travel adaptor on Aegina. Achçççhhç! Much harder to find in Espana. Less phone talk. Fewer pictures.

Euro-Venture

On principle, I dislike travel blogs. They seem rather self-important to me. However, I have promised several people who I think might actually care that I would keep one. So, against my better judgment I will. I will try not to be too long-winded and only write about interesting things, but I cannot make any promises.

Sasha and I are in Athens right now having just returned from Aegina on the ferry this afternoon. We are leaving Greece tonight for Barcelona. We spent our first few days puttering around Athens. Mostly sweating, drinking lots of water and looking at really old archaeological ruins. It is too too hot in the city (33 c according to the weather widget at this computer) and the ruins are all roped off to avoid tourist wear and tear, so in the afternoons we bused it to the beach and had delicious greek food and cheap wine in little beach towns like Glifadda.

We met a really nice Slovakian architect named Lukas at the bus stop and toted him along with us one day. He spent the last year studying abroad in Athens and reccommended the island of Aegina as a good close place to escape for the weekend.

Spent the past few days there in a cheap hotel one block from the beach after meeting up with sasha's friend. A few highlights: 1. We rented scooters in Aghia Marina -- the village where we were staying -- for only 10 euro/dayand busted ALL over the island. Visited a gorgeous Greek orthodox church, some ruins, every village on the island, got lost countless times, traced and retraced our routes. It was decidedly one of the best days of my life.

the island was relatively empty-- supposedly they are having a bad tourist season and everything was really cheap. especially food. restaurants were deserted but ADORABLE and delicious. Ate delicious seafood (swordfish souvlaki, octopus, sardines, herrings, calamari, plenty of Greek salad, etc etc) scrumptious pocket pastries and baklava. The part of the beach in town is very touristy, but it doesnt take long to escape the countless hordes of european vacationers and on the scooters we wound up in some very remote places.

Last night I went for a walk along the coast while everyone else was showering and came upon a horde of local young greek men riding their horses into the water. a little further along the coast I came upon a little cove where someone was obviously squatting. A few grocery bags were hanging from the tree branches, and a little blue duffel bag was perched on the beach. I was standing on a rock overhang at the edge trying to decide whether or not I should walk through what was obviously someone's little beach home, when i happened to look down and realize there was a naked man crouched over a fire right below the rock where I was standing. I was so shocked that I banged up my toe when I turned around to go. It's now swollen and a little black and blue. Hopefully it will improve before we start the camino. I'm hoping it is just jammed. Hiking 20 km/day with a broken toe could prove difficult.

My Cinematic Debut

The U.S. Military Drops More Than Just the Ball

Here's an interesting investigatory look into the practice of planting "drop weapons" on Iraqi civilian casualties by American soldiers. Soldiers supposedly confiscate excess weapons from civilians (who are allowed one per household by the U.S. Government), horde them in their vehicles, and then strategically place them in the hands of dead innocents in order to portray them as "insurgents" (thus deserving of their fate).

On a side note, I would love to hear the working definition of an insurgent as defined by the U.S. military.

I can't say I find the contents of this video shocking to any extent (a sad thing to be sure), I do have to commend the American News Project, which at least seems to have its talons firmly entrenched in the soft hide of investigative journalism.

Bravo. Maybe the New York Times reporters should take a few notes?

Deme Mis Tacos!

My beloved Los Angeles taco trucks are under fire, and, under no circumstances do I intend to let them go down without a fight.

A new law would prohibit them from parking in any one spot for longer than an hour without receiving a $1000 fine. Thank GOODNESS someone has stepped up to combat this madness. A pair of ex-Oxy roommates currently living in Highland Park have created www.saveourtacotrucks.org to mobilize taco truck lovers across LA. They have even declared May 1st taco truck night.

I will be visiting my own personal favorite-- Leo's on Eagle Rock Blvd in approximately 10 minutes to demonstrate my own solidarity with the movement. 'Ain't no one gets between me and my quesadilla de pollo con guacamole y limon. Especially not Antonio. It's ok for him to sleep around with Latinas, but when Angelenos try to buy a late-night snack from one, he gets his panties all in a twist? That boy's mama needs to smack some values into him.

I'll Let You Borrow My Panda if You Come to the Olympics

I'm sorry. This is too rich. In the midst of all the Olympic-torch-tibet-mania, this just in. According to an article today on the LA Times website,

Japan’s oldest giant panda, Ling Ling, a longtime star at Tokyo’s largest zoo and a symbol of friendship with China, died today of heart failure, zookeepers said.

Another Reuters article postulated that this could be an important chance for China's President Hu Jintao to practice panda diplomacy (perhaps some form of black and white loan?), when he visits Japan later this week.

I'm sorry. Did I miss something? I think perhaps Mr. Jintao might want to focus on a few more pressing issues of diplomacy involving men in red robes. Human rights abuses, anyone?

I Will Not Blog About the Gross Austrian Man

Enough said. Where's the gulasch?

Allergies, Smallergies

Revelers in Trastavere, Rome yesterday got down and dirty with an enormous pillow fight.

At this point, I can only express my severe and utter jealousy. If there is one thing Los Angeles needs, it is a giant feathers-flying, out-and-out. downright brawl of our pillows. A union of all things synthetic and down, a pillow fight is just the kind of out-of-the-box therapy Angeleans would benefit from. Even those bizarre pellet-filled viscose blobs would be helpful. Forget our manicures, our massages, our over-priced and not-always-so-tasty lattes. They obviously haven't helped us with our road rage or the release of our feelings. Italy has the right idea.

Even Spain understands. Bunol, Valencia is the host of the Tomatina (the tomato fight) in which boys align against girls for a day of slinging the red fruit back and forth until the streets are ankle-deep in pulp. Afterwards, everyone makes salsa with the pulp. Alright, that last part might be a lie.

Still, even India has the color war, Holi, in which everyone throws water balloons full of colored powder at one another. Or at least that's how it goes in the movies. Why do all these other countries have so much more fun than us?

According to IndianChild.com,

Festivals bring joy and happiness in our lives. If we celebrate all festivals alike we can spread the message of joy, happiness, brotherhood and humanity among one another and live as one family and community.

I'm not sure I would go that far, but I can't say I wouldn't mind putting on my pj's and slinging some pillows.

And I Always Thought I Was Mean To My Little Brother . . .

See Evan? Here you have it-- you had it easy.

Economy on Fire

According to an LA Times article today, people across the country have begun burning down their homes and crashing their cars in attempts to escape the constraints of their mortgage, home, and car payments. Given, the trend is still small at this point, but Insurance Fraud Investigators are sitting up and taking note, eager for their home institutions (if an insurance company could indeed be called an institution) to maximize their profits and deny as many claims as possible.

It's hard to ignore the parallel between the current trend and that of the suicidal Brooklyn Bridge Wall-Streeters of the great depression, albeit to a far lesser degree. Admittedly, our current recession hasn't yet spurred our economy into a downward spiral sharp enough to induce such a level of manic depression and sheer panic at the dire state of one's condition.

Perhaps this is because in our current state of economic downturn, the big guns aren't being held as responsible for the downturn of their businesses as they might have been in 1929. Take Bear Stearns for example. Even after their initial Fed bailout raised protests from some, the price per share paid by the Fed for the financial giant was increased voluminously.

Some Americans are being repaid in the form of tax breaks this year, but none on so grand a scale. According to a CNN.com article, the average tax return in 2008 will be about $2500-- far too small a sum to pay off the average debts of consumption-happy Americans. Furthermore, with a high marginal propensity to consume in the US, it's unlikely that whole check will be going towards paying off old debts. For many families, Uncle Sam may just be financing the purchase of a new Wii.

Back In My Day . . .

Things have come a long way since I was in high school. All I got in the way of a promvitation was a, "Hey gurl, Wanna hook up at prom next weekend? I can get us a good deal on condoms," scribbled onto a paper cafeteria napkin and stuffed into the vent in my locker when I wasn't looking. Sadly, my would-be-suitor forgot to sign his name, so I never got to take advantage of his once-in-a-lifetime offer.

Only kidding. My high school had a graduation ball rather than prom. Our parents all came. Nookie and intoxication were scarce. Still, if someone had invited me to the prom on Digg, had I known what it was, I probably would have said yes. I mean, this kid has cojones. Slightly nerdy cojones, admittedly, but cojones nonetheless. Talk about a potential for public humiliation. On that note, I sure hope she doesn't shoot him down.

Pope's UN Adress Falls Just Short of Benediction

Pope Benedict addressed the UN General Assembly today as a part of his visit to the US.

He said the notion of multilateral consensus was "in crisis because it is still subordinated to the decisions of a few, whereas the world's problems call for interventions in the form of collective action by the international community."

While Benedict did not mention any specific country, this appeared to be a reference to the United States, which led the 2003 invasion of Iraq even though the Security Council refused to approve it.

The Vatican strongly opposed the recourse to war.
(Reuters Copyright 2008)

Interestingly enough, the Pope will not be attending the White House dinner in his honor this weekend. Hmm . . . subtly reprimanding US actions and refusing to be honored by the US all in one visit. Coincidence? I think not. SOMEONE'S trying to send a message from the Catholic Church. Let's see if George and Dick pick up on the REAL reason for this papal visit. They may need a little help from above to retract themselves from their current mess.

What is THAT?

Until I came to college, I had no idea how unusual it was that I knew the names and utilities of most plants and animals I encountered in my day-to-day life. I could tell you which mushrooms were delicious with garlic, as opposed to those that would kill you or leave you running zig-zags around imaginary giant rabbits. I knew which woodland berries were edible and delicious and which would leave you retching in the bushes.

The daughter of a master gardener, I had spent my childhood hiking through the woods, picking stinging nettles for quiches and soups and tea (touching only the tops of course), digging worms wriggling from their dark, damp holes and pitting them against millipedes and pill bugs that I found in the woodpile. I could have even demonstrated to onlookers the utility of the banana slug as a tongue numbing device, although if I ever did, I have since blocked it from my memory.

You can imagine my surprise then, when I came across a YouTube video on Digg.com today proclaiming that a new survey of children found they could identify 1000 logos, and only 10 plants and animals. Yes, that's right. Ten. Collectively.

This makes me quite sad. I could identify more than ten varieties of personal pets as a child, largely because I had at least as many. Not to mention more than ten exotic animals, more than ten farm animals, and far more than ten plants. And I believe my life is better for it. I don't squirm at the sight of rodents or insects-- no daddy longlegs has ever caused me to jump as it does my city-raised friends.

Yes, people sometimes poke fun at me, when, in the middle of the Golden Gate Park's AIDS Memorial Walk I leap excitedly from the trail to seize upon a bush of luscious salmonberries, but I know that inside they are only jealous. Their teasing does little to mask their obvious gratitude at having befriended such a resourceful young woman.

I'm Not Inviting China to My Birthday Party!

US National Security Advisor Stephen Hadley announced in interviews today that it would be "a cop-out" for the US to boycott Beijing's opening ceremonies for this summer's Olympics. He said that the quiet diplomacy the US is currently using is the best medicine for China's recent bad behavior, and that those countries who plan to boycott the ceremony are merely using the opportunity as an easy way to check the Tibet problem off of their to-do lists.

This is absolute cock-a-nannie. The US's "quiet diplomacy" is SO quiet that it has yet to result in any visible progress. In fact, rather than engaging in talks with the Dalai Lama, as the US has previously suggested, China even went so far as to declare him a terrorist-- allied with Islamic extremist groups planning to cause some sort of commotion at this summer's games.

Of course WE should avoid confrontation with China-- they are our second largest trading partner and have one of the fastest growing economies in the world-- but for Hadley to denounce other nation's attempts at putting international pressure on China's horrific human rights policies smacks of arrogance and ill logic. Such foreign policy is reminiscent of a childhood game, wherein Hadley is the sore loser. "If WE can't publicly embarrass China, then no one else is allowed to either," he seems to be saying.

Those countries who aren't in economically dependent relationships with China should, by all means, place public pressure on their violent mistreatment of protesting Tibetans. In the meantime, I'm sending Hadley to the corner for some time out.

Well I'll Be a Smashed Atom

Here's hoping we don't find ourselves sucked into the Franco-Swiss border this summer. I'm trying to go to school in Le Maroc next fall.

http://www.latimes.com/news/science/la-sci-collider13apr13,0,7765588.story

Overwhelmed by Oil

This morning, I was quite taken aback to read the following excerpt from an LA Times article. This seems like a pretty sweet deal, at least for Santa Barbarans, but I can't help but wonder what kind of state this new 'park land' is in. Hmm . . . trading greenery for depletion of the world's resources . . . are environmentalists really winning here or merely being duped into selling out? And what will happen to the currently emerald hue of this oceanview property once Californians have bought and used all 200 million barrels of oil it is said that PXP stands to gain from this deal? I am a little dubious. As my dear old dad always says, "If something seems too good to be true, it usually is."

A Houston oil company has agreed to shut down its offshore oil production off Santa Barbara County decades early in exchange for approval this year to drill into untapped undersea reserves and cash in on the nation's record oil prices.

To sweeten the deal, Plains Exploration & Production Co. -- known as PXP -- also has agreed to donate about 200 acres of oceanview property along the sparsely populated Gaviota coast and an additional 3,700 acres in Santa Barbara's premier wine-growing region for public parkland. It would withdraw a proposed housing development on that land and pay millions to fund projects that offset carbon dioxide emissions, such as low-emission public buses.

It's My Life and I'll Cry If I Want To

I have work to do. A lot of work. Sometimes I worry I might spontaneously combust if I think about it all at once. So instead I am making a list of everything I have to do in the next 3 weeks in order of their chronological due dates.

1. Write article about environmentalism at Oxy (4/10)
2. Make draft of Olympics protest presentation (4/11)
3. International Econ midterm (4/17)
4. 15 page take-home Sufism exam due (4/18)
5. 20 minute Econ presentation in-class (4/24)
6. Final blogging research project due (4/26)
7. Write 22 blog entries -- admittedly my own fault (4/30)
8. 10-12 page Econ research paper due (5/2)
9. Econ final exam 6:30-9:30 p.m (5/6)
10. Politics final exam 8:30-11:30 am(5/8)
11. Run naked through campus 11:31 am (5/8)
12. Sleep (5/9-5/18)

This list may have been a bad idea. Now I feel a little like this . .

Beauty is only skin deep

Power Outage

Pulitzer Prize winner and Harvard professor Samantha Power resigned from her post as political advisor to presidential candidate Barack Obama today after making less than kindly remarks about his fellow presidential hopeful, Hillary Clinton.

In an interview with a Scottish magazine, Power described Clinton as "a monster" who would do anything to reach the presidency.

On first examination, this snafu might seem to bode poorly for the popularity of the Obama campaign, but I have a feeling it might not actually be so bad for Barack's popularity rating.
Labelling an already emotionally vacant candidate a monster won't do much to alter Obama's squeaky clean play-by-the-rules image, unless the attack is publicly perceived to be affiliated with his campaign. They seem to have made sure that won't be a problem.

The campaign had already distanced itself from her in the past, according to an LA Times article, and her speedy resignation makes it clear they want nothing to do with her badmouthing ways.

Still, while the severity of negative side effects on her own self-image as a political advisor makes me hesitate before crying conspiracy, I have some reservations about the innocence of the Obama campaign in this media debacle.

On the heels of Hillary's wins in Texas and Ohio, Obama seems to have lost some of the momentum of hope that propelled him into last Tuesday's primaries. It would be conceivable for an advisor of Obama's, with a secure spot at Harvard (Power was the founding executive director of the Carr Center for Human Rights Policy) and no serious political aspirations (I have no basis knowing whether or not this is true), to purposefully level such allegations against Hillary's personal character in a public forum.

The woman obviously isn't a dummy. Power's words, though publicly unacceptable in association with Obama's campaign, hold weight and legitimacy due to her prestigious educational background. Furthermore, as a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, Ms. Power knows exactly how the media works. I'm sure she is well aware that anything she says that can be taken out of context, misquoted, or otherwise seized upon by media hounds like herself. Particularly as a representative of an important political candidate, Power would have spoken deliberately and chosen her words carefully in interviews.

Baby Smacks Train Tracks

I found myself laughing with horror yesterday at a news article I came across detailing the unusual birth of an Indian baby, in Ahmedabad.

"Pregnant woman uses train toilet, baby slips out"
http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN2857281320080228?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews&rpc=69

Supposedly, the new mother didn't immediately realize her 2 month premature baby had fallen from the train toilet onto the tracks because she lost consciousness immediately after its birth and didn't regain it for several minutes.

Luckily the baby was miraculously somehow unharmed by the fall and was later discovered "on a pile of pebbles" by employees of a railroad station down the tracks.

My friend Sarah scoffed when she heard the tale. "That's obviously a lie," she declared. "She probably did it on purpose, like that high school girl that had her baby in the women's bathroom at her school and then left it in the garbage can."

Somehow, I have a hard time believing this. The woman did, after all, alert her family members once she came to, who stopped the train and began an immediate search of the tracks.

Still, it's hard for me to believe she didn't notice say her water breaking, or the feeling of a 5 lb object popping out of her. Perhaps the lesson to be learned here isn't one of responsible parenting, but awareness of one's body. I hope fervently that if I ever became preggers, I will notice the arrival of my new son or daughter, whether or not I am on a train in India.

Make Me A Part-time Model

My freshman year roommate from Scripps College, Stephanie Bulger, was eliminated from Bravo's reality TV series Make Me a Supermodel last Thursday. While I watched religiously, and exercised all 10 of my opportunities to vote for her when she slipped into the bottom 3, I am not upset at her rejection, nor do I believe that she is. You see, the ironic thing is that although Stephanie did indeed audition for the show and was eventually chosen as a contestant, she doesn't WANT to be a supermodel.

Stephanie has always been an art fan. Her room at home in Texas is plastered with her own acrylic masterpieces, and her class schedule is chock-full of artsy fartsy studio classes. In her spare time she studies dance-- everything from modern to ballet to hip-hop-- and is an afficionado of music and fashion.

Naturally thin, tall and blonde, with cheekbones to die for, strangers and friends would often stop us walking across campus to suggest the idea of modeling as a career to Steph. They seemed convinced that this suggestion was a moment of their own brilliance, an epiphany that, if taken, would change her life forever. But I knew better.

Stephanie is an artist first. Indeed, she fluorished in the art and movement-based episode of MMAS, but floundered when it came time to show off her acting chops. A rational being at heart, she loves quirk and flamboyance too much to subject herself to the whims of a handful of hack-job producers and celebrity judges.

Nor does she have a dearth of opportunity waiting for her back where she came from. While many contestants seemingly face a lackluster return to the real world with full-time jobs as waitresses and valet parkers, Steph returns to a nearly completed degree. A degree she wouldn't have taken advantage of as a supermodel.

Eclipse

So there I was, waitressing away at my side gig on Wed night, when all of a sudden BAM! people started pushing away their pho, pulling out their chairs and stumbling into the glow of the moon. Half of it, anyways.

I joined them, notepad and pen still in hand, neck craned, to stare at the slowly disappearing orb emptily. This should have been an ecstatic experience. I should have been blinded with fear and sudden darkness. Had I been living in a time before electricity or way the heck out in the middle of nowhere, it would have been. I would have ripped off my clothes and run naked towards the place where the moon should have been, begging the gods of the sky to take me instead.

Me, the lowly woman. The woman who delivers spring rolls and edits the unrehearsed writing of college students. The woman who reads books, only to regurgitate them on paper, meshing the words of the authors with her own narrow thoughts.

But standing on the sidewalk along Colorado Blvd, surrounded by the glare of headlights and streetlamps and billboards, I felt hollow. It didn't matter if the moon went out. I needn't have called it back to light my way home or to illuminate my hunt for dinner.

The blank patch of dusky sky could have been any moonless stretch of space. No part of me felt the need for self-sacrifice. And I walked back inside aided by a neon-green electric glow. And I ate my dinner out of a styrofoam box.

Bye Bye Fidel

Fidel Castro announced his plan to step down from the Cuban presidency today in a letter to the Cuban magazine Granma, as he is no longer physically able to fulfill the responsibilities associated with his post. The new president has not yet been decided, although rumors cite Castro's brother Raul as a possible candidate.

This could have serious consequences for the future of Cuba. Many speculators are hoping for a transition into capitalism with Castro's departure, but if the younger Castro immediately takes over his post, rapid societal change seems unlikely. Communism might not be going anywhere for quite some time.

Even if the alternate candidate, current vice president Carlos Lage is selected when the national assembly meets to make their decision, Cubans might not all be thrilled. Lage is known for his series of capitalistic reforms in the late '90's, in which some Cubans gained the right to own and operate private businesses.

While these changes have boded well for Cubans looking to enhance their own economic opportunities, they could also signal the demise of the Cuban universal healthcare and education programs currently supplied to the island's more than 11 million people.

Kermit, Move Over

Paleontologists have just revealed the discovery of fossils from an enormous armored toad in Madagascar. Said to have measured 16 inches and weighed 10 lbs, Beelzebufo (devil toad in translation) is believed to have snacked on dinosaur hatchlings back in the day.

Just when I thought this couldn't be any cooler, I learned that Beelzebufo is a relative of normal sized toads in South America today, a fact that challenges current ideas about geography and advocates for the existence of a later term landbridge than we had previously believed to exist.

This is almost too good to be true. In my book, it is hard to beat the sheer amazingness of a giant toad. This guy even had teeth. Now that the writer's strike is over, someone down in Hollywood needs to get their pen in gear and write a screenplay about Beelzebufo. Maybe one featuring a bulked up Mel Gibson and some fair damsel in distress.

I am so impressed by this guy I might go to Madagascar and hang out with his bones for a few days. In fact, if he were still around today, I would give him a giant clap on his armored shoulder and a badge for being so legit. Just so long as he didn't give me giant warts.

Campaign Suggestions

Hilary Clinton has revamped her campaign with a new campaign manager. Maggie Williams, a long-time aid of the senators from the male Clinton administration, replaced previous manager Patty Solis Doyle earlier today.

The rationale behind the replacement is obvious. Clinton is losing her grip with losses in Washington, Maine, Louisiana and Nebraska and expected losses in Washington D.C., Virginia and Maryland. She is now less than 30 delegates ahead of Barack Obama, and loaned her own campaign $5 million earlier this week.

With the nomination up for grabs and no quick end in sight, campaign supporters, donors and the staff itself wanted new energy and perhaps a different approach, and Clinton made the change. (LA Times Online http://www.latimes.com/news/politics/la-na-hillary11feb11,0,7562049.story)

Will this be enough to help her pull through? With 237 delegates at stake on Feb 12 alone, it's hard to say. If I were her new campaign manager I might pencil in another tearful ratings-bumper of a speech or have her start volunteering at soup kitchens in Texas. At stake in their March 4th primary? A whopping 228 delegates.

Gas Pains

Last Thursday morning I awoke to the pleasant scent of natural gas emanating from my kitchen. I quickly ascertained it's source-- a barely-turned-on burner-- and solved the problem, but the damage was largely done. A housemate and I frantically ran about the house opening windows and doors, trying our hardest not to cause any sparks with the friction between our stockinged feet and the hard-wood floor.

Unsure of the protocol associated with such a leak, we hesitated to leave immediately. What if our kitchen cabinets were singed shut in our absence, and all of our dishtowels destroyed? Still, when we both experienced phantom "gas pains" i.e. lightheadedness, stomach ache, we opted to head for the safety of the library.

I learned one thing from this experience. Natural gas detectors are good. Yes, they can be expensive, running between $40 and $80, but it is much more costly to replace your kitchen.

Watch Me Work

I have always been horrified at the Xtreme Fitness Center; a gym on the corner of Eagle Rock and Colorado boulevards with floor to ceiling plate-glass windows. Every evening able-bodied individuals roll across blue mats and throw punches at rows of red dangling bags while bored drivers waiting at the stoplight look them idly up and down. There is nothing that sounds less enjoyable to me than the thought of being eyed by strangers in a sweaty, heaving state. I don't even like to watch myself exercising in the mirror.

Still, somehow I ended up there last night for a kick boxing class with my overzealous house mates. I have never been much of a boxer. By which I mean that I didn't really know how. But I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of satisfaction I got from kicking the bejesus out of a swinging bag. Not to mention the whole increased heart rate, aerobic activity side of things.

It turns out I've been suffering from a lot of pent-up aggression towards others. This became apparent when I realized I was picturing an ex-boyfriend's grinning face on the bag midway through the session. At the end of the class, I felt so thoroughly cleansed of negative emotions that I opted to sign up for regular kickboxing lesson. Therapy without the social stigma of going to speak with a professional. Albeit therapy sessions don't usually come with such a captive audience.

Oz

I'm sure at this point we are all aware of the bevy of tornadoes that rained down on southern states yesterday, killing upwards of 50 people in Kentucky, Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee and Alabama.

Our president prescribed a solution of combined prayer and government aid to the area. "Loss of life, loss of property -- prayers can help and so can the government," Bush said yesterday according to an LA Times article. "I do want the people in those states to know the American people are standing with them."

Lets flash back to August 29, 2005. The day Katrina hit New Orleans. The city had already been declared a federal state of emergency by President Bush two days earlier. Despite his supposed worry about the potential for disaster in Lousiana, when the 17th Street Canal Levee broke later that day, Bush was in Rancho Cucamonga, California giving a talk on prescription drugs for senior citizens.

It was over 5 hours after the hurricane hit that the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) called 1000 homeland security workers to the area sometime over the next two days.

Michael Brown, head of FEMA issued a press statement on the 29th ordering all First Responders NOT to respond to counties and states affected by the hurricane until they were requested by FEMA.

At the same time, 20,000 New Orleans residents were languishing in the Superdome without food or water.

If actions speak louder than words, President Bush might as well be hollering at tornado-stricken Southerners, "Maybe next week I'll do a flyby! Until then, I'm sure the Red Cross can lend y'all some bandaids!"

However, it is true what Bush says. The government CAN help. The question is, will it.

Until the day comes, tornado victims might want to dust off their ruby slippers and try tapping their toes a few times.

The Upside of Food Poisoning

Nobody cares what I ate for lunch. Or so I've been told.

Still, I can't help but wonder whether my reader might be interested in what I'd consumed at midday if I were to suddenly develop a foodborne illness and spend the rest of the day crawling from bed to toilet, hands clasped above my trembling stomach as it did its best to violently expel every last whisper of its contents. The chances are good someone might be curious about the fine culinary work that had left me in such a state.

Interestingly enough, this is exactly how I spent the hours that bridged the divide between Friday night and Saturday morning. Celebrating the joys of sushi-induced food poisoning. The experience put quite a damper on my weekend plans, particularly when I proceeded to suffer from a dehydration-induced fainting spell during a poorly-conceived Saturday late lunch out. Though I have largely recovered at this point, I would be lying if I claimed not to still be victimized by the occasional "Dear God, take me to the nearest toilet" intestinal twinge while I sit in the library reading Stiglitz's analysis of the '97 East Asian currency crisis.

However, there is something to be said for the unifying power of food poisoning. All but the most iron-gutted of us seem to have fallen victim to its fiery clutches at one point or another, and the horror at its 1-2 punch gastrointestinal takeover is unanimous. The outpouring of support from friends, family and community in my time of incapacitation was overwhelming. Not only was I overcome by a warm loving glow when the friend who'd supplied me with the offending raw fish brought me ginger ale and apple slices in bed, but I have never felt closer to a restaurant employee than when our waitress immediately swooped over to rescue me from the perils of the floor, all the while making concerned noises.

All things considered, I can't help but feel a slight fondness towards food poisoning and the human connections it fostered in my life this weekend. Perhaps I'll go back for round two of the tuna rolls next Friday.

John Be Nimble, John Be Quick, John Jump Out of the Democratic Primary Running

Democratic Senator John Edwards announced his withdrawal from the presidential race earlier today in New Orleans, after losing all of the democratic primaries so far. I would like to commend him for taking the political highroad, unlike another leftie (rhymes with fader) whose own pride got in the way of the 2004 elections.

It always baffled me as to how a man like Ralph, whose entire platform rode on the preservation of arctic wildlands and monk seals, could continue his campaign in the face of such a close race between a man with strong environmental ties and one who so obviously had none. He obviously wasn't about to suddenly gain the support of 48% of the American people. It isn't that I don't agree with Nader's platform, or at least parts of it. But at some point even he, wrapped up in the adrenaline of campaigning and buffered from the real world by a slew of journalists and advisors, should have considered the greater good of the nation rather than refusing to budge in his stubbornness.

I would like to take this opportunity to send a shoutout to my fellow countryman John. I admire your humility and your obvious concern with the good of the democratic party and the future of our nation above your own ego. Whether Obama or Clinton will benefit the most from your grand gesture remains to be seen, but your decision shows your concern with your party above all else, and the Democrats could use a little unity.