Break No More

today is officially the last weekday of my winter recess. this depresses me to no end. the only bright side is that it inches me closer to the goal of graduation, just one semester, three classes and five months away.

i tried to ride out this week in style, doing more of nothing. took in shopping with money i don't have, saw some people i hadn't seen in awhile, listened to music i hadn't heard in a while, still been sleeping in late and being awakened each morning by my canine's tongue or paw.

pabs returned last night from his trip to argentina after spending about two weeks away. though i'm glad to have him home, i will admit that i enjoyed my me time immensely -- big bed all to myself, playing my chick music at full volume, smelling up the house with sauteed salmon, a dish and fish my beloved detests.

this sunday, his parents come into town to stay with us for a few days before zooming off to phoenix for his dad's work conference. this means that we will spend all of saturday scrubing the apartment down from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. gotta wash the dog, do all the laundry and ironing, dust the blinds, etc. back to the mundane. the break really is over. ugh.

Thoughts on the New Year

now that i've emerged from the hangover haze that kept me disoriented the first two days of 2004, i can now focus on the 363 days that are left -- or is 364, are we going into a leap year? anyway, the worst part about entering a new year is making that mental adjustment to date checks correctly. it'll get me for months.

beyond that, i guess i should make some resolutions that i'll likely break in the coming year. i think making one or two a year is feasible, any more is just setting yourself up for failure. i'll keep it simple this year and just focus on the liquids -- namely, a resolution to drink less alcohol and drink more tea and water.

i'm not sure what's happened over the past few years to make me such a lush. but now it's hard for me to even fall asleep at night without a glass of wine. maybe it's the wannabe european in me leftover from the summer who needs a glass with every meal, but it can't continue. for starters, it's impeding my weight loss. i'll be judicious about my diet all day and then have a bottle of merlot all on my own with dinner. that translates into sugar which marches straight to my ass. and an entire bottle doesn't get me drunk -- a whole bottle. i mean, that's bad, right?

so no more casual boozing. from now on, i will drink solely during social occasions and celebrations. so far i've been very good. haven't touched a drop of alcohol this whole year. do i miss it? hell yeah -- i'm cranky and can't sleep well at night. but i'll keep going with this. quitting smoking was way harder. and i can replace my nightcaps with tea and/or water, which i've been neglecting to nourish my body with over the years. i bought some moroccan mint green tea to start me with my journey. (but the coffee i'm keeping -- i'm down to two cups a day and that ain't bad, ok?)

beyond that, i can see already that this year will be full of changes, all hopefully for the best. whereas last year seemed like an awesome summer bookended by stress, this year should only start stressful and end blissful. graduation is in may, and it couldn't get here fast enough. then comes the job hunt, which will probably suck, but should get me to the next level, whatever that is. by the end of the year i should be a working professional again, which means regular paychecks -- no more student scrounging.

in addition, pablo is talking about getting an internship up north for the summer and doing a semester abroad in the fall, leaving me (delightfully) on my own. hopefully before then, in late may, there will be a trip to asia in store for both of us. i'm also thinking of moving out of my ghetto neighborhood and getting a new furry baby, maybe a rottweiler. and i'm also thinking of embarking on a serious writing project, like a book or screenplay. something i can start and finish just to know that i can really finish what i start, and that writing for me won't be just half-baked ideas and scribbled notes that lead nowhere.

hmm... what else? maybe new couches, if i have the money, and laser hair removal, so i never have to shave my armpits again. i'd also like to take another trip to hawaii with kiana. and while i'm at it, i think i'll lose 20 pounds and win the lottery. hey, sounds like a fun year ahead!

but tonight i'll start with updating the Milla Times website -- you know, that thing i said i'd do six months ago.

Happy Friggin Hangover

i was ready to decapitate myself this morning. anything to get rid of the throb in my head. three liters of water and half a dozen tylenol later, i still feel crummy. why does a shitty morning usually follow a fun night?

yeah, it was fun and all. thanks to those who showed their lovely faces -- zee, nick, doug, beth and avi. i must admit i was a tad worried when i first arrived at 10pm, as the club was virtually empty and the DJ was playing eighties music. but in what seemed like a half hour, the space filled up and the beats began blasting. we entered the new year, noisemakers in hand, to basement jaxx's 'red alert,' a song i really like. unfortunately, i couldn't sneak in my puppy for the requisite midnight smooch, so i hugged nearby strangers instead. at that time, i was uncharacteristically sober for such an event -- only had a few drinks and a shot of vodka at my parents' place earlier, but on the whole i felt together.

then i'm not sure what happened. i do know that i left the club feeling more sober than i did when i got home -- as if all the alcohol caught up with me on the drive back. it was bizarre, because i know i left the club feeling relatively clear-headed, but by the time i arrived home i could barely walk straight. not sure what happened in between. i have a vague recollection of making drunken phone calls to various friends looking for an afterhours party, which i never found.

(Public Service Announcement: the Milla Times does not endorse driving drunk, and in my own defense i'm very conscientious about these things. i know my own limits, and i've never gotten behind the wheel fully wasted, only slightly buzzed. if i'm too drunk to drive myself home, which is rare, i never do. i wait it out or find a sober driver and urge all to do the same. thank you. drink responsibly.)

this morning, i awoke at noon to a 65-pound dog pawing my face. sparkly confetti was scattered throughout my bed and stuck onto my face and torso. my throat was as arid as the sahara. i was not in the mood.

at first i resisted and tried to play dead. but the pawing became intrusive quickly. most mornings she licks the face, which is so much more pleasant, but on those certain days when she knows it'll be harder than ever to get mommy out of bed -- wham! -- a stinky paw will land in my eye and slide down my cheek, as if it's trying to pry my eye open. so i slowly crawled out of bed, careful not to make any sudden moves with my head, and took the little fucker out. i've had a headache ever since.

Happy Friggin New Year

while i could care little for xmas, i do enjoy the festivities that accompany the new year. after initially worrying that i had loser plans this year, i rounded up some friendly troops for an evening at club sugar in santa monica. i'm gonna try to look HOT tonight. i bought brand new everything for the occassion -- new dress, shoes, even matching jewelry. i'm also gonna get a wax and actually wash my hair. if anyone's still looking for something to do, i think the cover is a very reasonable $10.

in other news, my girl raidis spent the past couple days with me before leaving late last night. she just lives over the hill in my hometown of van nuys, but she needed to get away from her house and we needed some long overdue QT. so spent our time together eating, getting drunk, gossiping, shopping and watching 'sex and the city' DVDs. i really love that girl. she's my best friend whom i've known now for 15 years. here's a pix of her sexy ass on halloween:

RaidisHalloween.jpg

the day before that, i saw my other best friend -- the male version of raidis -- jon-david, whom i've known for 12 years. (unfortunately i don't have a photo of him as a domintrax.) i went to visit him at his mom's house in freezing antelope valley. it must have been 40 degrees. we also spent time eating, drinking, gossiping, etc. it was a lovely few days of back-to-back best friends.

up ahead are a few more scattered friend visits and entry into the alone zone, a place i relish but visit all too infrequently. i thought of making a foray into SF, but think that's unlikely now. so i'll ride out the rest of my vacay reading, sleeping and hopefully working on this god-forsaken website, if i can motivate my lazy ass. anyway, happy new year to you and all the rest of that jazz.

Merry Friggin Christmas

look at me, blogging daily now. seems there isn't much else to do. pablo left this morning for argentina for two weeks, leaving me without anyone to kiss come new year's. i'm sure juice will oblige, but how am i supposed to sneak her into a jumpin club for a midnight smooch?

anyhow, i've gone and done something uber-girlie to pass the time, at least for the first few days of solitude -- i've rented a bunch of DVDs of old 'sex and the city' episodes and plan to curl up on the couch wearing warm socks while eating bon bons. well, more like atkins bars. (still on low-carb.) i'm just gonna veg, no deadlines hanging over me, no interviews to schedule. just lazy dayz ahead.

and yes, merry f-ing xmas. while i do like the season, i don't really care for the actual day and its eve for obvious reasons (i'm jewish). when i was younger, i remember my christian classmates being in disbelief that i didn't celebrate the day, that is was somehow impossible not to. "but, at least your family has a special dinner that night, right?" they would ask. "no, we don't acknowledge it at all," i would answer. "but it's christmas!" they would say, as if saying it that way suddenly changed everything. "umm, nope. we don't do anything," i would insist. "well, then santa must not like jews!" guess not. but that's okay, cus i never gave a shit for that fat bastard either.

i'm still looking for something to do on new year's eve. virtually everyone i know will be out of town or otherwise occupied. if you'll be in hell-lay and have ideas, please e-mail me pronto.

Hawaii, Part Two

aloha, punks. ready for the second installment of our hawaii series? what follows are details of the eerie psychic experience! oooh. aaah.

Lan Vo
that's her name, in case you ever find yourself in oahu wrestling with life's questions and sixty bucks to spare. she's a vietnamese lady in her forties, maybe fifties, and she has a thick-ass accent i often could not cut through. "please, no smoking, eating or drinking. thank you. have a nice future," the sign near the receptionist read.

since lan is booked months in advance, the only way to get an appointment with her is to arrive early and sign the walk-in list in hopes that some of that day's clients cancel or just don't show up. we were the first ones there at 9am, and lo and behold her first appt was a no-show, so i went in (kiana managed to get her reading first thing after lunch, so we spent the better part of the day there, leaving at around 3pm.)

she took out regular playing cards, prayed silently while holding them, and then had me shuffle and cut them into three stacks. she then spread the cards onto the table separating us and began asking me questions, while gluing her eyes onto my face, which makes me a bit nervous. then she seems to abandon the cards altogether and just begins spewing things out, one thing after another. some are past events, others are premonitions for the future. this continues for close to half an hour, with me interjecting often to ask questions or ask her to repeat herself because her accent's a bitch.

-- past: one of the first things she tells me is that i have two degrees (and i'll eventually get one more, which i think is unlikely). she sees last summer's trip to europe, and that i've been moving around alot (and i will continue to do so, she says). she sees the scholarship money that i received from USC this past semester and that i "make reports" for work. she sees my back surgery and that i have recurring bladder infections, but says that neither is of serious concern.

then, as if in a vision, she sees pablo and begins to describes him, saying that he has three tattoos (he does), one of which is a formula across his back (it is); that the hair on his head is thinning, but he has plenty of it on his chest (all true); that he has a greencard and is not from around here (he's from argentina); describes one of his old girlfriends as being tall and blonde (erin, i've met her); says that he is an engineer who does programming and has recently left his job (true that); and that his name is "something with P and B." there's a lot more pablo talk that follows this, but i'll keep it to myself.

she also sees my ex, describes him, and we discuss him briefly. we then move on to my family, and she spells out my sister's surname -- "N-G-A-I" (her husband is chinese). she tells me things about their marriage, but that their kids will be fine. she tells me how my grandparents died and that my paternal grandpa -- whom i was named after and who died before my birth -- was a "good man." this sends a chill over me.

we talk about my parents and she sees that my dad had a brain tumor when i was growing up and that it made his eye twitch. she also sees my mom's hysterectomy. she also sees the history of diabetes in my family and tells me that as long as i'm careful with my sugar and salt intake, i won't get it. she also saw my dog's hip dysplasia ("she walk funny") and said she has 7-9 years, which bummed me out a bit.

-- future: there was certainly more about the past than the future, which is to be expected. she did provide some insight, however, which i am sure is subject to change. namely, that i'll marry only once, have two girls and a boy ("maybe twins"), will write a book that will be successful, will travel all around the world, will get a new car in the next year, will own a horse (!) at some point in my life, will work in either radio or television, will get a new dog, could own my own business, will teach at some point, will always live near water, and will be OK overall. "you worry too much," she tells me, causing me to smile. she also tells me to go see a dentist because i have a cavity and that my cholesterol is high. (there's much more, but again, i'll keep it to myself.)

i can't explain how i felt when i walked out of there -- definitely rattled, introspective, somewhat elated, somewhat disturbed. i sat quiet for a long time thinking and trying to remember everything.

now, of course i know better than to take this as the ultimate gospel. but i've always believed in the metaphysical and this woman certainly had the gift. she's probably the only one i've ever met who has, and i've seen my fair share of charlatan card and palm readers over the years. this whole experience has left me feeling a bit more spiritual than before.

and although she touches on everything, lan's specialty is health. she told kiana years ago that a lump in her mother's neck was not cancerous and did not need chemotherapy. turned out to be true. i would definitely consult lan on health matters, and probably other stuff as well. i'm sure i'll see her again and would easily recommend her to others. i have her number if anyone's interested.

Hawaii, Part One

damn, what a good time i had. i hope to return over spring break for a continuation of the goodness. here is a partial lowdown of the weeklong trip:

-- fly me to the moon: can i just tell you how much i love my very dear friend kiana? i've always believed that having friends with diverse professions is beneficial: a doctor friend for free medical advice, a lawyer friend for law consultations, a chef friend, a hairdresser, a masseuse for obvious reasons. but a flight attendant is just as valuable, and kiana's indentured servitude to American Airlines translated into a first-class, roundtrip ticket to honolulu for just 200 smackers. i dined on duck salad, shitake-encrusted rib eye and guava cheesecake and downed an entire bottle of merlot on my own. (i'm a fearful flyer, i needed to relax.) it was lovely. i'm never flying coach again. well, as long as kiana is still my friend. did i mention how much i love her? here's a pic of her on her wedding day:



-- accommodations: since kiana is from hawaii, we stayed for free at her grandpa's house in manoa valley and rented a car from enterprise. we didn't spend too much time at the house, just paid visits for sleeping and clothes-changing. her grandparents are adorable japanese people in their eighties who rise early every morning to pull weeds out of the yard.

-- heavenly weather: PERFECT. you could be naked and never get cold, nor did it ever really get hot. it maybe dipped once to 72 degrees and the locals began talking about it being "freezing." no rain, just infrequent bursts of drizzle that seemed to pour out of a cloudless sky. "hawaiian sunshine," kiana called it. we took advantage of the great days and spent many of them on the beach, drinking beer and smoking doobs while watching the surfers do their thing. i couldn't have been more relaxed.

-- pidgin: i also spent a good part of the week studying the most bizarre pseudo-language called pidgin. it's kind of like an asian creole based on dumbed-down english and loaded with hawaiian words. it has the unfortunate side effect of making its speakers sound like idiots, much like a boston accent does. not everyone on the island speaks full-on pidgin all the time, but many words and expressions seem to appear in everyday conversation. helping me with my studies were the two illustrated versions of pidgin to da max. so goddamn funny. if something's yummy, in pidgin you say that it "brok da mout" (broke the mouth). if someone's gossiping, you might urge them to "no talk stink." and if someone's staring at you, feel free to ask them "i owe you money o' wot?"

-- food and boob: the best thing about visiting with a local is that you don't waste your time in waikiki walking up and down that commercialized boardwalk. instead, kiana took me to the local hotspots and the best eateries. the food was soooo gooood, i can't even describe it. as a lover of all things fishy, i was in heaven, chowing down on sashimi daily. we also spent much time shaking our tail feathers at various bars and clubs throughout the island. all went well except for one night when a drunken meathead approached kiana's friend kimi with a digital camera and asked to photograph her (38DD) breasts. and later that night, we saw a seemingly insane girl take out her breast in front of a bouncer and squeeze milk from its ducts to prove that she wasn't lying when she said she was lactating. that was about all the tit we could take, so we hurried back and stayed up late talking about boys.

that's all for now. check back in the coming days for Part Two of our story, which will be all about my eerie visit to the psychic.

Thanks, Skanks!

so yes, another thanksgiving passed, and i'm glad it did because i really dislike turkey. never have i tasted a juicy turkey breast -- always dry. dark meat's not bad, though. but the best thing about the day is that it marks the start of the winter holiday season, which i really do enjoy. seeing houses done up in lights, smelling that xmas pine and feeling the cool chill in the air just gets me all warm and fuzzy inside.

what sucks about it is all that gift-giving nonsense. maybe if i had a ton of money to blow, i'd buy something nice and thoughtful for everyone i know, but i got no dough, and the pressure to spend and the commercial nature of the season make all those presents seem insincere. i'd rather take that money and buy my homies big birthday gifts instead of little holiday trinkets that i probably stole from the clearance table, anyway. i'm sure this will make me sound like such an asshole, but a word to the wise: if we're tight and you're thinking of getting me a little gift for the holidays, don't bother cus i can offer nothing but gratitude in return. i know, you're not expecting something in return, we all say that, but i'll feel guilty if i have nothing for you, and i have neither the time nor money to deal with malls in the coming month. let's just know that we love each other and that's enough. (but if you're my mom, a digital camera would make me so happy.) yeah, what a scrooge i am. bahumbug and all that shit.

and on that note, i wanted to get to the real purpose of this post, which was to recognize all the wonderful blessings in my life. (see, that's what the holiday spirit is truly all about.) so let's all take a collective pregnant pause before moving on to the list of all the things i'm thankful for this season:

• my parents (duh.) the older i get, the more i appreciate the people who were there from the very beginning and who will certainly be there until the very end. i adore my parents, and am glad we get along so famously. their love and support have always been unconditional and selfless. they never hesistate to tell me the truth, for better and worse, or to tell me with teary eyes that they're proud of me. nope, mom and dad, i'm the one who's proud. (how bout that camera now, ma?)


• the rest of my family. yeah, them too. even though my older sister, tatyana, used to torture me relentlessly during our youth, we make pretty good siblings now. and though i like to think that she and i are very different, i know that fundamentally we're the same on the inside. same thing with my cousin, gitella (you, too, roman!). and my niece and two nephews -- paulina, jack and derek -- are golden as well. they're growing up to be awesome little people.


• the light of my life, the apple of my eye, my darling puppy juice. i'm crazy about this dog -- like super, crazy, madly in love with her. she's my kid, and for her i'd do what any mother would do for her kid: anything and everything.


• the man with the master plan, the p-funk daddy, the big-brained sugarbearama: my pablo. although we've had our fair share of relationship bumps and bruises in the past few months, i wouldn't trade the four years we've had for anything in the world (not even for johnny depp). he's truly my best friend, all 6-feet, 5-inches, 260 pounds of his luscious, dark, argentinian self. you wanna know one of the many cool things about pablo? he has an equation tattooed across his back -- the formula for what happens when a neutron star dies, which is his favorite astrophysics fact. strange, yes, but you know that not another mothafucka in the world has that inked into his back. yep, my pabs is one of a kind.


• my friends, who i love love love, for they are my true soulmates. i gotta say that my friendships are lifelong endeavors, so if you're in it with me, we're in it to win it. fair-weathered just won't do, and i've been lucky to find a mess of people i can lean on, laugh with, cry to or just sit there in silence with. special thanks go to my innermost circle who have to deal with my bullshit on a daily or near-daily basis: raidis, jon-david, sharon, jeremy, kiana, juan, zahra, demetria.


• ok, this is gonna sound so friggin LA, but i'm very thankful for yoga, which has changed my life in so many positive ways. it really keeps me sane and keeps my rickety back strong. i'm converted for life and urge all to give it a shot. namaste.


• USC, i love you! the annenberg school for journalism has given me so damn much: knowledge, connections to amazing students and faculty, an opportunity to work and live in london, a $20K debt. umm, maybe that last one isn't too great, but it's been worth it -- definitely. i'll be even more thankful if it'll somehow help me get a job to pay off all that debt come graduation in may.


• this may be self-evident, but i'm really thankful for all the good music and books that exist out there for the many times that they've served as my therapy, my friend, my fun and my hope.


• thanks go to all the both evil and wonderful people from christmases past, present and future, as they have helped make me who i am today and will continue to shape my future. i really am grateful for all the gentle souls who've encouraged me, boyfriends who've rejected me, strangers who've affected me and bosses whom i've despised. the best life is a nuanced one, and i'll gladly take a (hopefully small) serving of struggle with my big scoop of success.


• and finally, a list of honorable mentions: the dorky yet cools guys i work with at CFQ/FF; the great deals and films i find weekly at the 20/20 video store down the street from my ghetto apartment; www.nerve.com; all the editors who have ever published my writing; strawberry cheesecake; other good friends: greg, stevie, angela, zee, garron, als, ann, courtney, tania, ali; the kind neighbors who've watched juice for me in the past; my favorite LA restaurant, puran's (on labrea); the doctor who convinced me to quit smoking; this past summer spent in europe; anyone who's ever bought or given me drinks, a meal or drugs; quiet cafes; noisy bars; KCRW, which broadcasts NPR and great music; the new york times and la times for being great papers with fabulously written stories; and, perhaps most importantly, you, whoever you are, if you're not already mentioned here. thanks for hanging in there.

Ghetto Not So Fabulous

today i want to use this space to discuss my wacky neighborhood and how much i've learned to both hate and accept it. since i'm locked into a year lease, it'll do me no good to let my disdain for this shithole consume too much of my energy, but yeah, it sucks here.

now don't get me wrong. i'm not some prissy rich bitch who grew up in beverly hills with silver spoons and picket fences, though i will admit to having a misguided crush on ricky schroeder in my youth. anyone who has been to my hometown of van nuys will tell you it's not the great area that comes to mind when one thinks of, like, the valley. people usually think of places like encino, where michael jackson's family lived, and granada hills, where valley twang is at its strongest.

no, van nuys' great claim to fame is being the porn capital of the world. examine any of your vivid videotapes/dvds and you'll find a van nuys postal address. we also had some gangs, most notably BVN (boyz van nuyz), and tons of undocumented immigrants. but in spite of all that, it was neither the worst nor best place to live -- standard working-class neighborhoods, plenty of used car lots on van nuys boulevard, strip malls galore. in short, it was a slightly rundown suburban hell that could get sketchy at times, but it was nothing like south central or detroit.

after that, i lived in my fair share of other assorted, sordid areas in both los angeles and san francisco. can deal with sketch, no prob. when in da hood, i know to keep my hoody on and my eyes averted. i avoid confrontations, walk quickly and act nonchalantly. urban survivalist, that's me.

but before i drift too far into tangentland, let's get back to the current hood and how much i fucking hate it. again, moving here was so we could be close to the metrolink (which finally started running again, yay!), since pabs and i are sharing one car. i could complain about the ridiculous traffic congestion (especially during hollywood bowl season), lack of parking, the charming dog shit lining the sidewalks, but i won't. that doesn't really irk me.

what does irk me, however, are the fucking cop cars that appear at least twice a week on my street. one time, they even taped off the entire block next to mine while they waited for a shooting suspect to emerge from an apartment building. oh boy, was that fun! i was ready to grab a bag of popcorn and stand around watching and waiting with the rest of the rubbernecks.

and another night, i came home to find a mountain of trash -- couches, broken chairs, garbage -- piled high in the middle of my street. i dumbly thought it might be a piece of expressionist art, but it turns out a tenant from a neighboring building didn't like his eviction notice, so he decided he would burn down the entire block by setting the pile of shit on fire.

but wait, i'm forgetting my favorite one: one time i was casually looking out my second-floor window when i saw a cop car breezing down the street, its blowhorn blaring, "quit buying drugs on that corner. hey, i can see you buying those drugs!"

oh yes, the junkies. (funny, as i write this i'm hearing sirens approach -- i shit you not.) seen lots of junkies talking to themselves, yelling at other people, lighting their crack pipes in the parking lot behind my building. there's been some hookers and pimps, too, and there was even that one guy i passed on my way home from the video store one night, the one who ran from a darkened alley, pants falling to his ankles. wonder what lucky lady (or tranny hooker) he left in his wake. silly people, why didn't they just use the motel 6 down the street like everyone else? and let's not forget the miserable couples that argue up a storm nearly every day. there seems to be a set in each building and when they all start their bitching at once -- wow, what a crescendo!

i should have known better. the two "checks cashed" places directly across the street from each other on hollywood boulevard should have tipped me off to what a dump this place is. is it as bad as i'm making it sound? yeah, probably. is it livable for the next two years? yeah, definitely. but as i approach (gasp) 30, i feel a bit crankier and less inclined to live in what i used to romanticize as bohemian centers -- just brimming with life, dude. now i see them for what they really are: GHETTOS. granted, it's still no south central or detroit, it's more ghetto-lite, but it's ghetto enough for me.

i've sworn to myself that my next residence will come equipped with a parking space. the neighborhood should also have well-manicured lawns, and the dumpsters should not smell like dead bodies.

but in the meantime, i've made my proverbial bed. besides, my apartment is really gorgeous and relatively cheap, and i have truly never (knock on wood) felt unsafe here. more annoyed than anything -- especially when i step in that dog shit.

Hermitism and My Diva Moment

(yes, that's a real word. i thought it might be "hermitude," but i looked it up and the noun form is indeed "hermitism." now onward with the entry.)

haven't felt much like doing much of anything lately. maybe it's the change in the weather, which, granted, is minimal compared to worldwide standards but huge if you've spent most of your life in sunny hell-lay. temperature's down, clouds are up. i generally like that scenario, especially when i can be at home with warm socks on and a cup of cocoa, staring out the window as the puddles fill up. maybe that explains the apathy and why i haven't been too interested in the rest of the world lately. friends, school, work, family -- no, thank you. i just want to sleep in and be left alone.

the good news is i can do just that, as the semester is finally winding down, leaving me with just two papers to write and a shitload of ones to grade for my TAship. that, i think i can manage before year's end. then comes next semester, the final semester.

the bad news is i'll have to take one more class than i thought i would if i want to graduate on time. this is because i dropped my thesis and need to make up the units. why, you ask? well, i thought i would try to 'push the envelope,' as they say (sorry for the cliche, but it's apt here), by doing a lengthy broadcast piece on the straight men who do gay porn. yes, the very fascinating gay-for-pay phenomenon that runs through the porn industry. chicks do it all the time, why not guys? i think most people would be surprised to learn that about a third of the guys who do gay porn are straight. i was gonna take that into an exploration of the vast divide that separates sex and sexuality. they're not the same thing. it was going to be educational. stellar idea, i thought.

the faculty disagreed. but wow, some of the looks that crossed their (old, white man) faces were priceless. they gave me every excuse: "it's not the topic itself, it's that it's not 'newsy' enough"; "how do you think this will further your professional goals?"; "what's the real purpose of doing something like this?" and so on. it was an ordeal. there were some heated debates. but in the end, i'm still the lowly student and they have all the power. they insisted i choose something else, but i said if i couldn't do what i really wanted, then i wouldn't do anything at all. so i had my little diva moment and that was that.

i'm not really surprised by the school's resistance, just a little disappointed. if anything, it justs proves their hypocrisy. college can be a pretty liberal place, but only if you want to focus on welfare reform or the three-strikes law in california (two topics of my friends' theses). but start talking about sodomy, and whoa, sister, slow down! i understand, though. it's their school -- they make the rules. but it's my fucking money.

yet in all honesty, i'm a bit relieved that it didn't work out, because it would have been a shitload of work and i was already way behind schedule. it's november already. by now i would have had to turn in my outline. so instead of all that, i'll need to take an extra class. i'm trying to find an easy one.