wow.

I've mentioned this before, and while I hate to be redundant, this is something that deeply concerns me:

My internal dialogue is completely asinine.

Sometimes I start looking for an escape route when I'm left to my own thoughts. Right now, for instance, I made myself a bagel for breakfast. I always eat bagels the same way -- chewy delicious bottom piece first, then the crispy delicious top part. So good.

Hey Kate, I asked myself. What side would you say you like more? Bagel top or bagel bottom?

It's an interesting question Kato, I answered. The bottom is chewy and satisfying, but the top has all the delicious crispiness I've come to really appreciate about bagels. Especially Everything Bagels, with the salt and the garlic and the Heaven In Your Mouth.

Yeah, Everything Bagels are awesome, I said. So, then, bagel top?

I stopped to consider, and finally responded: Well I think it depends on the type of bagel! I mean, the bottom of a Raisin Bagel is clearly the better half. You know -- oh, for the love of christ, Kato, shut up and eat your damn breakfast.

Maybe I should invest in a radio, block out my own prattle.

yes we can

Not to be too much of the cliche "Obamatard," but I can say, completely unembarrassed, that every time I watch this video I cry -- I think I've earned that right. And I think you might agree why:

The thing is, whether or not Obama "has the qualifications," whatever that means, Obama's vision is the America I was taught about in grammar school. It's the great American myth, the city on a hill, the idea that we are a special nation unlike any nation that has ever existed.

And why is that?

Because we have striven for more than what was given to us. We believe that we can make our lives whatever we want them to be -- we've made mistakes, but we're willing to correct them. We fought for civil rights and equal justice. We reject the idea of oppression. More than anything in my childhood, I remember hearing over and over:

"What do you mean, no?"

As John McCain said in his (quite moving) concession speech, nothing in our history was inevitable. But there is no "no" for Americans. There's just another way to getting what we want. We value this above all else. And because that kind of boundless optimism was fed to us from our mothers' milk, we can do so much more.

I'm 24. That means I was 17 years old the day the Twin Towers fell. My entire adult life has been post-911 -- I've had a president who mongered fear to coerce my countrymen into distrusting the outside world, into feeling trapped and scared of the government; he used it to usurp our rights as citizens, to spy on us and make us feel distrusted (and, in turn, distrusting), and on top of all that, to shame us out of using our Constitutionally guaranteed rights as Americans to openly dissent with the government's decisions. We were called "unpatriotic" if we didn't support a war that maimed and murdered our friends and put our nation into 14 DIGITS of debt, deprioritizing things like social security and the quality of our public schools, which is the very cornerstone of democracy -- after all, a population that cannot read, cannot possibly dictate the future of its government. We watched the government deregulate for corporations and allow jobs to be sent overseas never to return. The rich got richer, the poor got poorer. The president of the past 8 years has alternately overlooked and trampled on Americans.

For 8 years, Americans have embraced a reckless "leader" who encouraged Americans to abandon education, not to try to be smart -- because somehow, intelligence equals "elitist." Because somehow, decorum equals "elitist." Because somehow, excellence equals "elitist." Apparently, you're only a "real" American if you have a limited vocabulary and a ranch. This, from a nation that shouts to the world that we are exceptional. How does that make sense? As Aaron Sorkin said to a fictional Barack Obama,

The idea of American exceptionalism doesn’t extend to Americans being exceptional. If you excelled academically and are able to casually use 690 SAT words then you might as well have the press shoot video of you giving the finger to the Statue of Liberty while the Dixie Chicks sing the University of the Taliban fight song. The people who want English to be the official language of the United States are uncomfortable with their leaders being fluent in it.

Well, that doesn't represent me. That doesn't represent what I've been taught about my nation, my home. That doesn't represent what I want for my life.

And then suddenly along comes some guy saying, "Hey, this is a great country -- we are exceptional. Americans don't settle, we strive. Work for your country, work for your community -- we can make America the place it is in our hearts, minds and memories. Yes we can! Yes we can! Yes we can!"

And suddenly the beacon is illuminated once again, and we remember things about ourselves we had nearly forgotten. It's the world I want to live in -- the only world I would ever feel comfortable bringing children into. And I just have to say that I am immensely proud to be a part of this moment in history. Who knows what the future will bring? Clearly, one election does not represent an instant panacea. We've got a lot of work ahead of us. But for the first time in nearly a decade, I feel really good about tomorrow. Slash, democracy.

As Adam said, my generation is the class of 9/12, defined by the impact of an event that changed the course of our nation. For a while, it seemed that the force of the impact of those planes into our tallest skyscrapers would reverberate from sea to shining sea for all eternity. Well, I think we've stopped feeling the tremors of terror. Panic is passe -- we want our lives back.

In time, we can excel again -- even without American flag lapel pins.

And, clearly, my fellow Americans agree: Yes, we can!

i guarantee this will happen to me someday

yeah, that's uncomfortable for everyone.

Okay so I'm still water, but I'm not this crazy pollutant water! I mean, what the heck is in our water? What the heck is in our air that's causing these rainbows in the sprinkler? That didn't happen 20 years ago. We need to wake up, people, and ask ourselves what kind of poisons we're taking into our bodies!



Slash, holy balls, lady. Really??

normalcy fail

The other night I went out with someone I thought I had pegged -- Samsonite, friends. I was way off. Two beers in, I wasn't sure who was crazier, me or everyone else. For the sake of self-preservation, I've decided it's "everyone else."

Erol says that in the time he's known me, I've become much more aware of how insane I actually am.

"Yeah, you're weird," he said. "But at least now you're starting to recognize it."

Great.

There's a kernel of truth to it -- maybe a whole 10lb bag of kernels of truth, but I'm only admitting to the one. Over the years I've gotten the distinct impression that I'm a little "off" -- my marbles are arranged a little differently than those of most.

For instance, I arrange my marbles according to color, size, opaqueness and sentimental value. Marbles infused with sparkles are kept separate, and held up to various light sources to find the best angle for sparkling.

But that makes perfect sense to me. It's like when I eat my M&Ms in order (brown, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, duh!).

I'm reading One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest -- I've been meaning to read it for years. The interesting thing is how my book-du-jour somehow suddenly exposes patterns and realizations about my day-to-day life. Maybe it's not that interesting. Maybe that's just called "reading." But I mean, to be fair, it's not like I ever have a conversation and think, "Omigosh, this is exactly like that time on Tila Tequila!!"

Anyway, in the Cuckoo's Nest the whole story is told by the Indian Chief. He's the "silent observer" -- and, as Randle surmises right off the bat, definitely not deaf or dumb. He is crazy, which you don't get from the movie. The guy is tapped. I'm not sure if you're supposed to notice that. It's kind of strange having such an unreliable narrator. But he's not a part of the struggle, and really, he's more normal than most of the other guys. At least, from what you can tell. The story is coming from his point of view, to be fair -- I'm sure no one thinks they're a complete nutjob, or realizes that they are consumed by what are to others senseless fascinations and insecurities.

Well, I was walking home from work today thinking a thought I've had a million times: I'm like water. I don't perceive in myself any particular flavor, nor any noticeable texture. I don't intoxicate, I don't serve any cultural role, I'm not comforting or refreshing. I'm just a basic, transparent liquid that takes the shape of the container I find myself in. Don't you see?? I'm the Indian Chief!

Okay, so that sounds weird. Work with me while I mix my metaphors, and think about it -- when you think about someone else, they're a somewhat static character in your mind. My friends each have a distinct trait that I have pinpointed as the strongest -- a certain flavor and/or texture -- and that's how I portray them when they appear in my stories. People are sometimes Malbec (smooth and calming); some are pineapple juice (the perfect additive to almost any concoction -- un poco de pina!); some are a milkshake (delicious in small doses, but too decadent for the everyday).

I'm sure everyone thinks they're water. But I don't think they're right, I think there can only be one glass of water and I'm the water, I'm the normal one. There's just the one narrator, the Indian Chief, and that's me. HOW!

...

I mean, I don't think it's crazy to be slightly neurotic about the things you eat. Just like I don't think it's crazy to feel nervous on a flight. And I don't think it's crazy to dislike strong flavors or have 9 different sets of shampoo and conditioner in the shower or invite myself on other people's dates. And if a song is really making my day, why wouldn't I play it non-stop for an entire week? Honestly, how is it weird to use ground turkey rather than ground beef?

I personally think that most people are too dismissive of things that should concern them. Smoking causes cancer: that's been proved over and over again, just don't do it. A lifetime of systematic neglect of your body causes heart disease, diabetes, obesity, chronic depression, joint pain, fertility problems: this comes as no surprise to anyone, especially people my age, and yet have you seen the obesity rates in this country? How come no one else is freaking out about it?? Why does no one floss?? Do you not know how disgusting that is?? ALKJALFL!!

Whew.

Blech, forget the Chief, I'm like that Cathy cartoon. Hang me.

No, scratch that, I'm still the Indian Chief -- perhaps not normal, but certainly not as crazy as the others. Not the constant fighter of the ultimate (although ultimately unwinnable) fight, nor the constant submissive; not the paranoid, not the catatonic, not the pompous, not the cripplingly insecure. Just an off-color character with certain irrational fears I can't beat.

Plus, I've got a blog to tell my tale. I'm the narrator, betches, so enjoy your stay in my reality. Slash, the mental ward.

(Get it? 'Cause I'm the Indian Chief! So we're in the mental ward... Oh, nevermind.)

erol eats babies

It's funny how it was always an unspoken fact that someday I'd grow up and everyone would be married and everyone would have babies of their own, and when that phase shows up I'm caught completely off-guard. What'd I think was going to happen? There'd be a Coming of Age ritual, some sort of formal commencement ceremony that would release my peers and I into "the world" to begin our adult lives?

...


Oh, wait, you mean that commencement ceremony? Sh*t. Yeah, looking back on it, I guess that makes sense. Seems I missed the boat on that one. Bigtime.

Erol, the horrible baby-eating ogre I live with, is expecting his first nephew in about 3 months. Normally I'm not much of a baby-cooer, but I am so freaking excited for this one to show up. I think it's because it'll be the first baby to whose family I've had any relationship whatsoever in over a decade.

Seriously, who has babies?

I find it difficult to imagine ever being ready for a kid of my own (or of a close friend), but I'm really excited that I'll know someone with a baby. I'm told I can babysit it if I want to, but I'm more into "Oh, this is noisy/wet/stinky/heavy, you can take it back now" than "Why, certainly, noisy/wet/stinky/heavy baby, I would be honored and delighted to wipe your *ss. But you should know that it's payback time when I meet your first girlfriend."

Frankly, though, I feel like I'd do a better job babysitting than Erol, who'd probably prop up the kid on the couch with some old socks and then start asking what he thought about such-and-such an article in last week's Economist.

"WHOA WHOA, Baby!! Did you just poop on the carpet?!?"

Haha I would pay so much money to see that.

Oh, which leads me to a hilarious gem from the Interweb:

I'm the oldest 24-year-old who ever was

My big birthday present this year was the Blackberry Pearl -- a completely frivolous and over-the-top piece of technology that only has perceived value in major metropolitan areas, and even there it's kind of absurd. It's at least not the iPhone, which makes my brain bleed just thinking about it.

Anyway, I'm a sucker for the tail end of a trend so I got one. For the first week I was afraid to touch it -- somehow I convinced myself that the keycode for "Unlock" also meant "Call Europe." Then one night I found myself in a room full of dorky phone boys who I persuaded (read: begged) to set it up with Google and GMail and Facebook and whatever else. It was awesome, and then awkward, which is a pretty persistent pattern for much of the things that have happened in my life.

I never figured out how to add GoogleChat. That was too complicated, somehow. Recently I decided that I'm competent enough now with my phone to install GoogleChat on my own, so now I have that going for me. And on the one hand, it's pretty baller, but on the other hand, I want to die.

There are times, usually when a great scientific or technological advance has been achieved, when those annoying philosophical-types sit back and wonder, "Yes, yes, we see that you could do it -- but should you?" Well no one listens to them even then because they're annoying and everyone's all frustrated by what a stupid question that is, and why would you ask that question after it's already happened, anyway? Where the devil were you before I became consumed with the dream for constant availability?

Seriously, where? 'Cause I immediately regret my decision.

There's no more playing "hard-to-get" when you're on GoogleChat 24/7 -- everyone knows where to find you. And you aren't going to ignore the tell-tale call of the new chat. You're too curious. You need to know who said something, and what they said. It's non-negotiable, you need to f*cking know.

I never thought I'd get tired of talking, but it's overwhelming. There's no time off from socializing! In college this would have been the coolest thing ever.

Youthful Enthusiasm for Communication Technology FAIL.