A Secret History

• 12:16 All I want is sleep for breakfast and sleep for lunch. However, it doesn't seem to be on the menu. Spam, Spam, Spam, Didymoi, and Spam. #
• 12:59 Ball-point pens are the death of humanism. Twitter [...] doesn't mean the barbarians are at the gates. tinyurl.com/DefenseofTwitter #
• 14:12 Wacky. I was featured on Geeks are Sexy last month: bit.ly/bS2YX #
• 14:58 RT @weirdnews: Torture devices from 16th century for sale tinyurl.com/dc585k #
• 21:08 RT @DocPop: Kind of bummed that somebody has already registered www.uniporn.com #
• 22:10 OMG, Tokyo Zombie! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkztcNXYbus #

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• 09:10 Goblins seem to have taken up residence in the motor of my car while we slept. Hm. #
• 13:22 8 modern couples who blended their ethics with their nuptials: tinyurl.com/bddfgu #
• 13:26 Hoi Didymoi report on prelim findings: It's quite vexing when a fellow scholar hoards critical source text. Complaints have been lodged. #
• 14:33 Hey, @Houserabbit (www.rabbit.org) and @myhouserabbit (myhouserabbit.com) are on Twitter! *wave* #
• 14:34 Also, the Sacto House Rabbit Society is hosting a fun Run for the Buns, 29 March: tinyurl.com/cwmmll #
• 18:59 Hanging out with our elderly bunn, Naomi. Her mobility is limited, and there are some dandelion greens with her name on 'em. #
• 19:08 Finally saw "The Darjeeling Limited." Gotta love Wes Anderson-style familial dysfunction w/ a stellar soundtrack. tinyurl.com/2hm6nx #
• 19:43 @tenacious_snail: Blessed be your new home! #
• 20:18 @moonfrye: I've always liked Wednesdays. I love my love with a willing love, for she is winsome, witty, and wise... #
• 21:03 @TotusMel: I don't know which part I love most...the slumbering babe, the giant praying mantis, or the socks: twitpic.com/1vfpn #

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• 3:20 AM Peruse Deanna Molinaro's Not-for-Children children's books: http://tinyurl.com/y38jot #
• 3:44 AM An alligator can't be held responsible for his sudden conniptionous egocentrocities. #
• 3:56 AM Calendar of reproductions of original collages depicting inventors of fantastical creations: http://www.lulu.com/content/5002069 #
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• 06:04 Huh. Orchids sure cast interesting shadows on the ceiling by candlelight, particularly when one has stayed up very late watching The Grudge. #
• 07:17 "Morons, your bus is leaving." www.moviesoundclips.net/movies1/groundhogday/moron.wav #
• 07:26 @vonslatt: I imagine tiny Doozers gnomes from Fraggle Rock in utility belts, mending me w/ radish dust. I don't know that this is effective. #
• 07:48 @vonslatt: No, not to fret, my dear, but they are doing a splendid job of osteological osculations to mend my recent mandibular mania. ♥ #
• 20:42 RT @shoutingboy: An invaluable resource for gaslight & steampunk roleplayers/cosplayers: tinyurl.com/cjov86 #
• 20:51 Encouraging Kids to Become Makers: MAKE visits Bay Area schools tinyurl.com/MAKEkids #

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For a long time when we were together, I couldn't remember B's birthday. Then I hit upon the perfect mnemonic: the day before the ides of March. Thenceforth, I would just think erev ides, and I'd remember. I desire more than I ought to desire.

I finally went to RAFT (the Bay Area's Resource Area for Teachers), and now I can't believe I'd never been. So much wonderful stuff, and for next to nothing. Books for days, office supplies, craft materials, even furniture and a technology section. I think I'll visit again on Tuesday, when I have the day off after my appointment. Speaking of, at the last one, the doctor mentioned again that my lower mandible is too small (apparently a common issue for small women of Asian heritage), and that they would like nothing better than to break both my jaws and wire my teeth closed for a couple of months in order to 'correct' it. This would also mitigate any future TMJ issues. I, however, am not overly fond of this idea. I've never had surgery, never even had my tonsils out. I don't mind dissection, but I feel that I should be dead before someone fiddles around with my insides.

There's talk of a movie tonight. Shall we see Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior, William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, or House of Flying Daggers?

Why, oh why, must Spencer hop in the shower with me? Cats are not supposed to like water, are they? Madi likes to survey the tub after someone has showered, but Spence gets right in, under the spray and everything. Oimoi.

tutordennis and I saw Hero last night. I really enjoyed it, although I anticipate that lots of right-wing pro-war comparisons are being made between Bush and the Emperor of the Qin dynasty. Rather unfortunate timing. At first, I wasn't sure about the very strong color schemes used in the film, but then I decided that it's brilliant. As a long-time fan of Fong Sai-Yuk and old kung fu movies, it was fabulous to see Jet Li doing something other than the American movies he's been making here (which have without fail disappointed me). Speaking of disappointments, we saw the movie at Oakridge Mall. Walking past Hot Topic is always bizarre; as Dennis puts it, it's jarring to see "the commercialization of our childhoods" capsulized in a chain store. You may be able to market black jelly bracelets, Dickies, Manic Panic hair dye and Wet 'n Wild lipstick #508 to today's disaffected youth, but you can't sell punk rock, damn it. Yeah, we're old skool.

I've had a lovely feeling of well-being this past week or so. Perhaps it's due to school starting again. I'm not sure, but I'm enjoying it. I'm still a little sad about the past year, and all the changes and challenges we've been through. I don't object to change per se, but it's very difficult to revamp your both your daily life and your long-term plans without facing some disturbing questions regarding the nature of the self. When B and I decided that— despite our deep love and affection for each other—we could not be lifepartners, it was honestly done with each other's best interests in mind. I truly thought that we would continue to be there for each other, as real friends, perhaps even as sometime lovers. After nine years of happiness together, I thought it couldn't be otherwise. But after a brief period of 'weaning' (for lack of a better term), he forged such distance between us that my head still reels to think of it. Now I don't know who he is.

But I miss him. The 'him' I knew, the one that loved me and held my love dear, the one whose strengths and whose very weaknesses I adored. The one who said I'd better hurry up and finish school so that we could adopt chinky babies together. The person whose family adopted me as their own, the one I held when disease incited his body to mutiny (we were so frightened we'd be parted by his early death), and the one who booby-trapped my suitcases with stuffed monkeys when I went to conferences. That's how my heart works, and eight months later, I still don't know how to undo it. I'm grateful for my recent sense of well-being, but I'm confused that it hasn't lessened this other ache.

threetimes penned what I think is one of the most resonant eulogies that we could offer up for Sam. You may read it here, and here you'll find a photo of Sam and his bonded companion, our kitty Spencer.

The landlady walk-through yesterday went well; she ascertained that we hadn't burned the house to the ground or anything, and she liked the landscaping we've done. Geo and I took all of the bunnies for a bonding ride in the back of the Jimmy, and managed to bond Nina with the gruesome foursome (Henry, Chana, Naomi and Porcini); it's amazing how a bumpy trip and the indignity of having one's nails trimmed will make bunns forget their petty differences. However, Noa was too truculent, so she's still a solo. We finally had the old Honda towed, so we now have a two-car driveway again. I'm halfway through my second Christopher Moore title (probably the last of my summer reading), Fluke.

Now, with our tummies full of pasta, polenta, and wine, we're off to watch 1776. I think a quiet, snuggly evening at home sounds just right.