Another observation

Continuing my trend of noticing noteworthy titles, I was walking through Barnes and Nobles the other day, and I stumbled upon the title: "Madame Bovary's Ovaries: A Darwinian Look at Literature."

Here is the review, thanks to amazon.com and Publisher's Weekly:

From Publishers Weekly
One can only imagine the kitchen table conversations that inspired evolutionary psychologist David Barash and his daughter Nanelle (an undergraduate at Swarthmore) to collaborate on this witty and insightful book. Their explicit goal is to apply the basic principles of sociobiology (think Richard Dawkins's The Selfish Gene) to the study of literature. Thus, they say, we can better understand Othello as "a story about a jealous guy" if we know that males tend to be particularly afraid that their mate might have been impregnated by another, thus suckering them into expending resources on a child who doesn't carry their genes. By the same token, we can read Jane Austen's novels as detailed depictions of the cost-benefit analysis inherent in female mate selection. This conceit actually works quite nicely—the Barashes' writing is easy and ironic, as if they themselves take it with a grain of salt, and sociobiology benefits from being cast as an interpretive lens rather than the ironclad, coldly calculated truth that leaves many of its opponents feeling nervous about being nothing more than "gene machines." From its irreverent title to the last paragraph, the result is a surprisingly lighthearted romp through both literature and the animal kingdom, aimed at a casual reader who's interested in either or both. Agent, John Michel at the Howard Morhaim Agency. (May 3) --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

Freedom of space

I'm leaving for DC on Sunday. Already have most of my stuff packed, and I'm shipping the rest tomorrow via some parcel service.

And to be quite honest, I don't know how all of you guys managed to do it when you came to Stanford.

Having done most of my time in California, the thought of going across the nation frightens and compels me in ways that I can't really describe. I know once I get there I'll be so busy to even think about it, but still it makes me feel weird, and I don't know if that's in a good way.

Most of the other names confuse me horribly too. Makes me think that, like the majority of my career at Stanford, I should have chosen something harder or more witty to forge my identity with.

Promise you'll come visit me in DC? (I know you will Govi, I found a room in a AU Law Group house right next to my law school. But I'm open for something if you get to stay for more than a year!

and because I want to end the post with a picture. I give you.... KITTY



She's my first kitty that my mom and I got back from the ex stepdad after many years of separation. She's so gorgeous.

answer me this

Can the word "supple" be used to describe breasts?

My interpretation of OED's definition suggests no. But most of my friends (many being self-professed readers of dime romance novels) say yes.

I'm counting on all the English majors and word lovers to speak up. There is a debate raging in Berlin.

a self-portrait

“Calm down, brian. We’ll get good seats.”

OR

“’Who took all the redvines?’”

OR

“The checkholder has gone around. We are under by $37.”

These are a few titles i’ve come up with for my exaggerated self-portrait. Any thoughts?

I’m certain if Hamlet L.S. and R. Sheriff thought about something they have in common; they would have the perfect title. <3

Make your own here! (bee hookup, you can do it in german!)

http://www.sp-studio.de/

the only way to go is up

If you start shitty, it only leaves room for improvement.

Dearest HK'sRim -- this is arguably the most important thing I learned from SLE.

Over the weekend I discovered possibly the cheapest way to get a gourmet-tasting meal.

Instructions:
1. Go on a 200K bike tour. And for the duration of the trip, subsist on plastic-bottle flavored water, gummy bears and a loaf of whole grain bread.
2. When you are finished, eat anything. I guarantee, it will taste amazing.


Aside from biking as fast as I could away from Berlin, an adventure which involved roads of every surface quality imaginable (paved, potholed, dirt, gravelly, cobblestone, brick, wood and bridge), old towns (circa 1150 AD, comlete with old brick watchtowers), camping outdoors (along with a swarm of vengeful mosquitoes that attacked every inch of skin I left uncovered), and a futile search for the mythical McDonald's in our final destination of Lübbenau (I wanted dearly to taste a "gourmet" Big Mac), I haven't done anything out of the ordinary. I amuse myself with cooking, facebook and flea markets.

It recently came to my attention that in addition to being recognized (mistakenly) as a vegetarian, I am often also assumed to know how to cut hair (hitherto also false). All this changed today when I trimmed my own bangs in a vaguely trendy way and to my glee came away looking decent. Let the public be advised that they are permitted to begin queuing up for haircuts, effective immediately. I will be filling orders when I return in Sept.

liebe Grüße aus Berlin,

<3 bee hookup

An observation

If anyone stumbles across this week's version of US News & World Report, take note of the delightful title: "Dangerous Liaisons."

So this is what you do with a BA in English

I'm waiting on replies to job apps--2 English-tutor positions in Japan, 3 in Singapore, and 1 absolutely enchanting job (also in Japan) combining the duties of a language instructor, bartender, and geisha. It's been nearly a week now! I hope tomorrow (Monday) will bring some news.

Since I'll be home for some time, I decided to clean my room, an activity always fraught with high-potential disasters. It's akin to graverobbing, and who knows what frightful ghosts might be released, what unhappy phantoms resummoned. The juvenilia is always the most hazardous matter: either one is pleasantly surprised at the powers of former selves, or one cringes at their artlessness. Metaphysical poetry at 13? Surely you jest.

I wasn't entirely sure what to do with interdisciplinary materials either: imaginative history of the Indus Valley? S-shaped and radial chromatograms on M&M colouring chemicals? In the end my heuristic was generous. I kept most of it, despite the cringing. And for my generosity, I have been rewarded with gems like this (I think it was an exercise in identity-realisation, or some such bullshit):
Incontrovertible proof of at least one point of consistency (take note, Govind)! There, in my uncertain cursive, is scrawled the name of that vilest weed, "parsley." As for my favourite--"grilled eel," while still a strong contender, now has to share the rostrum with many other frutti del mare, not to mention other unmentionables...

Speaking of food, I had a brief moment of reverie a few days ago when, as I was spreading Nutella on toast at breakfast, I saw 2 ants anxiously scurrying across the tablecloth. I half-expected Theresa to come bounding up the stairs, ant-traps in tow and ready to be hurled at the ants like ninja stars... but of course there were only my parents, ever imperturbable, ever insouciant. So I lightly crushed the ants, balled them up between thumb and middle finger, and gracefully, graciously defenestrated them.

Twilight at 22:30

One of the marvelous things about summer in Berlin is having less than 5 hours of darkness a day.

Yes, I am back in Deutschland for two short but glorious months. Consider yourself invited to visit Germany rent-free -- I've got my own room with big windows, a high ceiling and yellow walls, in an apartment I share with Sarah-Jane Bennett, a British gal raised in Berlin, and Jimi Hendrix, her house-broken chipmunk. He stole apricots from my room while I was at work and then left the pits in my bed, but really he's nice. I think you'd like him.

Speaking of work, this photo from last year approximates what I do every day. From the picture you've probably guessed that work is a total drag and very serious.

Due to certain uncontrollable factors, such as an infrequent pay schedule and arriving in Berlin almost broke, I've survived on a food budget of 32 bucks per week. This figure covers just about everything I've put in my mouth over the past two weeks, from staples like pasta and yogurt to luxuries like Haribo gummi frogs, grapefruit sorbet and a glass of sekt the the gay cafe. It's been a challenge. But as I see it, I need to cultivate an inspiring immigrant story of my own. My mom used to tell me about coming to California in the 70's for grad school with only 30 bucks in her pocket. And how it was her first time leaving Taiwan, and she cried a little on the plane. And how she put a blanket over her head so no one would know. Well, now you know. And now I've got something to tell my kids.

Anyway, Brian recommended I use bullet points when I run out of stuff to say. So, things I have done so far:
* gone sailing.
* swum in a lake in my underwear.
* swum in a pool in my bathing suit.
* watched World Cup in a park with 5 thousand Germans.
* represented Team America in Kicker World Cup in my own apartment (Kicker = Foosball. Germans are so silly.). America lost to Deutschland. I fought my best and hardest.
* seen a 24-piece band from Brooklyn that looked like a matured version (only slightlY) of the Stanford Band.
* seen Love Parade and went home bored.
* "rescued" an abandoned bike and learned, first the wrong way and then the right way, to install a bike chain.
* done at least 4 loads of laundry . . . I packed light . . .
* sewed a fantastic purple-and-tan leather cell phone holster for Chris Turitzin, one of my two coworkers. It's great, except it bulges like a hip tumor when his shirt covers it up. Hm.
* smoked apple flavored shisha. I still can't blow smoke rings. But I can look like a fish while I try to do it.
* smoked one tiny puff of pot and then coughed like a maniac. It wasn't even my first time.
* seen lots of Lesbians.
* eaten lots of 39 cents a loaf bread.
* played the smallest mini golf ever.

Things I'm going to do when I get paid again (mostly mundane):
* pay rent. It's a beautifully affordable 300 a month.
* get a haircut. My bangs are in my eyes.
* buy contact lens solution.
* go grocery shopping.
* eat at the cool vegetarian buffet. I have never been a vegetarian, though people often take me as such, probably because I am so cool in a vegetarian-like way.
* revel in having the weight of more than 1 Euro and 60 cents in my pocket.

And lastly, things I can do before I get paid:
* feast on leftovers: yogurt, cheese, rice, eggs, jam, bread, ice cream, nutella, apricots, bratwurst, tea.
* paint my bike with polkadots.
* watch German news on TV.
* make a bike tour with Chris.
* write the most boring blogger post in the history of the universe!

ALL YOU OTHER BITCHES BETTER WRITE SOON. Now is the time -- my post will make you look so good in comparison.

<3 from the Bee Hookup

from the dining room

Oh Paula!
Aside from being greeted by a mug filled with bluegreen mold, our first meeting at CASBS was hilarious. At one point she was trying to describe the new trend of looking at the intersections of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, etc., and how each permutation demands its own place in academia. And then it struck me that Paula would be great pals with Govind - she started waving her hands around and semi-ironically demanded to know what we should do about the paraplegic, lesbian, black, immigrant...

for Paula's lit review, i have had to email ritch savin-williams, a famous psychologist interested in gay adolescence; rebecca plante, who is apparently interested in microsociology *shrug*; and verta tayor, who looks like this:


Also, in our most recent meeting Paula told me that a woman who knows what she's doing can cause herself to orgasm in under four minutes....

Interactions
So, i went out to the clubs with my ballerina friend the monday before the fourth. I had several amusing interactions:

While i was waiting for the ballerina,

• Someone stopped to say hi because apparently i "just looked so sad!!!" - how ridiculous =), "that's just my face a rest!" i exclaimed. Then,
• I witnessed two women firmly making out while they both clutched the same smallish pizza box, go (pre)figure. Then,
• Someone said my hair was "so cute," - inappropriate, my hair is not cute.

While at the club,

• An older man kept trying to buy me a drink, but i emphatically declined (over and over). When i said i needed to go, he pulled me closer and ran his fingers lustily through the back of my hair...
• I was bumped while holding a drink and spilled a little bit onto a woman's flesh - she was very large and wore a tube top. She screamed "BITCH." I ran.
  
• A shirtless man (SM) grabbed my hand and started rubbing it all over his chest. The conversation went as follows:

B: Umm, no thank you (I pull my hand away).
SM: whatru gonna do, jack off??? youre gonna go home and jack off.
B: Not right now thank you.
SM: (he grabs my hand and starts rubbing it on himself again)
B: NO THANK YOU (and a rip my hand away)
SM: it's okay, it's OKAY, I DONT CARE WHAT YOU DO, ITS FINE BY ME, (makes an UGGG noise)
SM: IM JUST TRYING TO BE FRIENDLY!!!
END

• While waiting for a cab outside, someone called out to me. It was this guy I had seen in line while waiting to get into the club. (While in line, I had thought, he was quite the sexy beast - just something about his square features.) I replied, "Oh hi" - he's an el suavesito, thin white dress shirt buttoned nearly all the way down, a small chain necklace, light hair on his chest, a small sharp tattoo on his prominent peck. "Where you from?" "Oh, well I'm originally from San Dieg..." "Welcome. You should come out more. My name's Jesus, what's yours?" "Brian." Now he's looking in my eyes and holding both my hands. I dont know if anything else was said, but we just stood there for a few moments while he recreated a cheesy romance scene. Unfortunately, there were no flocks of white doves, or crashing waves with spray - but there was the tell tale cab what would separate him and me. He pulled me closer as I had to leave and gently brushed my hair out of my eyes. So much melodrama, and so little interest on my part. The cab cost $12 before tip to get me home; where's Jesus when you need him?
  

Team (1)776*
On the 4th of July, my roommates and i went to Mission Dolores park to play boggle. They had independently dressed modestly in red, white, and blue in the morning, and decided to go to the park dressed as such...i borrowed Cara's white belt (apparently it's a mens belt from japan) and put on red and white shirts to match them. We ran into a queer friend of theirs who had no interest in interacting with me - "oh hi *ignore*" (perhaps he could sense my unfair bias against blond men decked in designer jeans). But it was alright; he had a dog that looked like a miniature pony with fangs.

Brianna...........Brian.............Cara

My longest word was
QUARTET

*776 is my street address

Huzzah for Italy!

I don't know if anyone caught the game, but it was magnificent: the French have been playing brutishly all tournament (Zidane's coldly calculated headbutt in the final's second half was hardly the beginning) and finally got what they deserved in an overtime penalty shoot-out.



After a week and a bit on the road around Peru with the Nagrechoid, I arrived in Chavin late Monday night, eight hours by bus from Lima. You can see the town in the lower right of the picture above: the site itself is the bright green patch immediately to the town's left. There isn't much to do here in Chavin (pop. 2500, probably measured on Sundays when Andean villagers descend out of the mountains to sell their wares and produce), so forgive me if football has taken on a renewed glamour for me (anything to make 90 minutes go by!). None of the Stanford kids seem to care very much, so I ended watching the semifinals and finals with some very passionate Peruvians - luckily, I've found that football and beer can be relied upon to dissolve most language barriers. But that's all in the past now: I predict a return to yelling, frenzied gesturing and the occasional pummelling as the main mode of cross-cultural communication.

We began actual work this Tuesday: I'm being inducted, slowly but surely, into the mystical ways of the theodolite, a surveying instrument that I'm certain will be eminently useful in graduate school and life thereafter, let alone the life hereafter. It's pretty cool to be able to determine coordinates of locations to the accuracy of a millimetre, and it sure beats shoveling dirt with the coolies. Not that they haven't made me dig, with only a tiny pick and a trusty trowel for tools: my 2m by 2m unit lies squarely in the demolished kitchen of a former site caretaker, a man clever enough to build his house directly on top of unexcavated archaeological material, mere inches from a temple over 2500 years old. Here, I've discovered such thrilling things as: chicken bones, llama bones, guinea-pig bones, a human molar, green tarp, a beer-bottle shard (I swore up and down that it was obsidian, but nobody believed me), stucco, concrete and bricks from the collapsed wall. Just as we were about to hit a more interesting historical level, I was pulled off the unit to dig a sizeable hole, 1m deep by 1m wide by 2m long, right next to the mosquito-infested river Mosne that runs by the site. We're looking for an underground sewage canal that may or may not lie under where I'm digging. Needless to say, I was thrilled to be able to put my non-neglible brawn, malarial immunity and a SLE-honed nose for excrement to appropriate use. I promise to let you know if I hit Femaleontes on the way down.

Please do post, especially if you haven't already: I would love to hear what you're all up to!

Puff

(Representin' the 'nard once more in SoCal)

Presently, I've yet to discern the strangeness that is the Washington DC highway system. The multitude of left-lane exists, coupled with the absolute mystery of the 50MPH speed limit have left me somewhat wary of bringing my California Beast to the DC area. Thankfully, I believe that event will have to wait until next year, since, just like the rest of DC, parking is forbidden for first years.

I'm sorry you all missed my wondrous graduation party down here. It would have truly been a great way for us to finish. We hired a private taqueria to make food for us for about 7 hours... need I say more?

For those that may be planning some cross country trips: If able, take JetBlue to your destination. It may not be the fanciest ride, but being distracted by two hours watching a Hyena documentary on my own DirectTV set in my seat can definitely come in handy.

I hope to see you all more sometime soon. My room is rather empty, and while I enjoy the many conversations I've had with a few of you so far on AIM, it is no match for the sounds (and bleeps) of real-life. I suggest we all buy a Wii when it comes out in order to keep the mighty Smash alive.

Of course, I'll keep y'all posted when I actually find a place to live in DC, until then Go Apple (even with their illegal stock handlings).