I just watched the last episode of Season 2 of Dr. Who.

Commence BAWLING MY FUCKING EYES OUT.

GOD DAMN YOU, DAVID TENNANT, AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL, SAD BROWN EYES.

LOOK AT THEM!



Stare me down with those eyes, sweet Doctor!

[Cease fangirl ranting... for now.]

Tonight's trivia night team name? "Scav-chester United."

Or, possibly, "S.W.A., Scavvies WIth Attitude."

Or, even more possibly, "Fuck Wichita."

We shall see!

13 hours of sleep and I'm still the most tired I've ever been in my life. The adrenaline must've been a bigger part of my wakefulness than I'd thought.

I hit a personal record this Hunt--up for 42 hours straight, 5.5 hours of sleep total while on the road (I don't sleep particularly well in cars, so I didn't count the "wake-up-every-ten-minutes" jolting on the road as sleep.) I officially hit the hallucination point at dinner last night, starting with auditory hallucinations at the Med and then moving up to visual by the time I was crawling into bed. I had forgotten how a bed felt, and my nightly call to Garett was cut short by me falling asleep mid-sentence repeatedly. Even now I can barely keep my eyes open. It's a whole-body exhaustion that I had forgotten I could even feel.

And with this exhaustion, I have a paper and an art project both due tomorrow that are significant portions of my grade. Neither of them are really started. I avoided doing much just by uploading Scav photos. I still have to get the videos from Binney.

I really love the Scav team. We weren't even discontented with the judgment this year. We liked the list, we ran at absolute full steam ahead, and we still got soundly beaten. It happens. This year I think we just got out-classed. And if that's so, then more power to Snitchcock. The first people who hugged me when the judgment was announced were Dave Pisano and Dave Franklin. Pisano actually got teary-eyed. It's been an honor to Scav with them, both alongside and against. At one point during the roadtrip, we saw the Snitchcock car pulled over on the side of the road and panicked, zoomed across lanes, and pulled over to see what the deal was. (Turns out Dave had just left his batman mask at a McDonald's, which was a relief.) I think the only even mild jackassery of the trip was when we passed MacPierce on a two-lane highway just because we could--and we stuck our tongues out at them. It was originally an attempt to start a leap-frogging war on an empty road, and it failed. Hopefully we didn't look like total dicks, but hey, we ran into them about four more times before the end and they were always pleasant.

Even the list was good. It was a huge improvement over last year's, and the mentality that went with it of trying to force teams to pick-and-choose what to do (which anybody with even a basic understanding of MP/SH mentality would understand is going to fail). I was especially a fan of the strategy items like double-or-nothing and the Wookie. I HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THESE FOR YEARS. Seeing them literally made me giddy. The Weighted Companion Cube actually caused the only pang of regret I had about the entire roadtrip.

Of course, there's still the issue of Judgment yesterday, and the lingering resentment it caused among the captains, augmented by a particular antipathy towards Jim Ryan (whose name was the only one thrown around considerably afterwards). The dinner was particularly devoid of the usual bitching-and-moaning about Snell, or particular items, or unfairness. We all just accepted it. It sucked, but whatever. We had a great dinner, made a few bawdy toasts and anti-toasts (one of which got us yelled at by the waitress) and tried to piece together the power shift amongst the teams. We very quietly cheered the demise of the FIST, particularly after the incident with Alpha Delt at the list release. The FIST prides themselves on representing their team, and if that's the case, then on list release, the team was a total douchebag. Why they weren't penalized, I don't know. Then again, that was ultimately the least of our problems with the list release.

Eventually, Zach drove me home, and I got some sleep. It wasn't enough, but oh well. Hopefully I can code java while still in zombie form.

On top of it all, I miss Garett. Desperately. Since we decided to move in together, it's been like we're a brand-new couple. I'm giddy. I made sure to call him every night while on the road to tell him "good night," even when I wasn't going to bed for hours--or at all. He tried so hard to find us that Chinese buffet. The man's a hero. I'm in love. :)

I'm exhausted. I haven't been this tired since... well... the last Hunt. I haven't slept in the last 36 hours (woke up at 5 a.m. on Saturday morning and spent all day driving--before that only slept about two hours, totaling a new record of 5.5 hours in the whole Hunt). I haven't eaten since 11 p.m. yesterday. I was driving and playing awake-buddy to Nick on the pounding drive back last night from 9 p.m. to 3:45 a.m., when we finally pulled in. We drove up 55, through a raging thunderstorm, with 10 feet of visibility, and had we done anything less than 80--even in the rain--we wouldn't have made it back before Judgment. My nerves have been shot since the beginning of the drive, and my hands were shaking too badly to recreate an item I completed in the car on a dirt highway (flipping an envelope inside-out, for reference).

And Judgment. When I arrived back I was greeted with the clusterfuck that accompanied every aspect of this year's Judgment. Start time moved unilaterally without any notification of either teams or judges. It took a threatened coup to make Jim come to his goddamn senses and get things moving at the normal pace--even though the shift had contradicted not only the printed annual rules of Scav and specific items on the list, but common courtesy and a significant degree of respect. The entire team literally felt insulted. We're a Scav team, and we do it because we want to, not because of fucking Stockholm Syndrome. We take a lot--a LOT--of shit from the judges every year, and we're generally OK with it--up to a point. We debase ourselves so they can get laughs, we do shit we don't even find amusing and then get called bitter when we criticize it, we deal with poorly-run and poorly-coordinated blood drives, list releases (nobody even thought to ask what team the people taking lists were from), judgments (we were stuck in park for over half an hour because all of the judges who had not already seen the completed pages went completely MIA into the "deliberation room" and only wandered out on their own goddamn time), and a general vagueness and insular "protection of the secrets of judgeship" mentality that not only keeps us in the dark, but treats us like some kind of inferior being within the context of Scav simply because we're not the ones ordering others around.

Today crossed a serious line with all of the teams. I've never seen groups of people rage like that before. We sat in Ida at 8 AM with members of Shoreland, Snitch, and the FIST, and literally just yelled about it. The options came down to boycotting the reading--which a string of phone calls to every team captain quickly put in place--or the more extreme example. Agreements were reached among captains of each team that, if Judgment were to go on at the earlier time, we would simply walk in and present on the regular schedule. If any judges refused to judge the page because it was late--and here I'll quote Pranks--"they'll get fired, and we'll make a panel of one captain from each team to take care of the pages."

Yeah, we were that angry.

I'm sick of it. I'm completely sick of being treated like shit by this mentality. I'm sick of doing poorly-considered items. I'm sick of trying to speak to judges about Scav, only to see the "judge hat" go on and an insoluble suspicion take over their tone of voice. I'm not trying to pry fucking information out of you. Don't flatter yourself that your role as a random arbiter of how I spend my time four days out of the year makes you that important in my life.

Fuck it. I'm glad this is my last Hunt. I won't lie--the road trip was awesome. With the exception of a few not-insignificant flaws, it was still a great selection of weird, fun, and offbeat stuff to do. It was the most fun I've ever had during the Hunt, and I was crammed in a car doing absurd distances with two ex-boyfriends and a kid I barely knew. We generated enough in-jokes to fill a dictionary. I enjoyed interacting with other teams more than I've ever enjoyed interacting with a judge. We actually hung out and chilled. The near-coup/walk-out on Judgment was probably one of the most amazing aspects of  the Hunt, if only because it showed we have more in common with each other than competition. (At the very least, we don't take being fucked over well.)

Somehow, despite the epic douchebaggery this morning, things still ended up awesome. If there's one lesson I've taken away, it's that Scav Hunt is not, and never has been, about the judges, regardless of what some of them like to tell themselves. "We have nothing to learn from them" my ass. Somebody who's wasted their time as a Scavvie brown-nosing with the judges just so they can sit at the cool kids' table has no right to act superior. I enjoy a lot of Scav in spite of the jugdes, not because of them. The organizational clusterfuck today was the most infuriating, humiliating bullshit I've had to deal with yet. I don't know if it was supposed to be funny, because it was obnoxious and pompous to such a degree that it's nothing short of a complete backhand. I don't care if Jim made the decision unilaterally. The fact that he not only did it, but only backed down at the threat of a coup on the part of the team captains makes it that much more unbearable. He refused to apologize or admit that he had done something wrong. How he answered us when we brought it up? "It was in my head. I thought everybody knew." This is a direct quote. And here's another: Kiss my fat white ass.

So I'm sitting here with Binney, Ryan Uricks, and L. Anderson in Ida, too tired to even get on my feet anymore. I really don't care how this turns out--I won't say I'll be terribly surprised no matter what the results (though I have money riding on MacPierce upsetting the F.I.S.T.). Max was on fire, and I only caught a glimpse or two of Snitchcock, but what I did see  blew my mind. Both of our road trip teams tore up the roads, and at most there's probably a single-digit point difference, due to us hitting an item first and getting the only copy. Some of the best moments on that trip happened when we ran into the other teams. There was definitely a degree of friendliness and cooperation which I hadn't seen in previous years, especially in headquarters. We all lamented --captains from us, Snitch, MacPierce, and Shoreland, at the least--that Scavengers hadn't been filmed this year.

All we have to do is wait for the results. No matter what happens, I did my part and I'm happy I had such a great experience for those four days on the road. I do love Scav, but I hate the politicking and posturing that goes with it. On the road, away from it all, I could forget all the bullshit that too often consumes the Hunt. And having seen that, I don't think I can go back to dealing with it.

All things considered, things seem to be at least pointing in the right direction. I'll be in DC this weekend to unwind with my Gare-bear, and the BA's done. Road trip has been an absolute blessing, as it means I've divested myself of almost all team responsibility outside of planning the iPod playlist for the fourdays, and it has the added bonus of not having to deal with the judges. My nephew turned 5 the other day, and the baby blanket I'm knitting for his upcoming little sister is coming along very well. My art project looks... awful, but more in a laughable way than in an eye-searing way. I've negotiated a deal with next year's tenants in my apartment to buy almost all of my furniture, meaning cash moneys and minimal moving responsibilities.

Praying for sunshine and a bump in temperatures soon...

( Hidden to keep random bitching out of sight )

In the spirit of the emotionally abusive relationship that is Scav Hunt, I've adapted the following lyrics to be sung along the roadtrip. To be sung to "Maggie May" by Rod Stewart.

Hey there Scav Hunt, I think I've got something to say to you
It's mid-May y'know and I really should be staying cool
I know that you keep me amused, but I feel I'm being used
Oh Scav Hunt, I couldn't have tried any more
You lured me from my bed, just to live a dream in some Judge's head
You made me laugh, and that's what really hurts

The rising sun on Sunday has toppled mighty kings
But that don't worry me none, for four days you're everything
I grinned at all of your jokes, my love you didn't need to coax
Oh, Scav Hunt, I couldn't have tried any more
You lured me from my bed, just to live a dream in some Judge's head
You stole my soul, and it's a pain I can't do without

All I needed was a friend and a sturdy roll of tape
But that wasn't enough, you had another fate
Jesus what an evening, you wore me out
All you did was wreck my bed
And in the morning kick me in the head
Oh Scav Hunt, I couldn't have tried anymore
You kept me wide awake, saying it was all for tradition's sake
You stole my heart, I couldn't leave you, and I've tried

I suppose I could collect my books and get on back to class
Or simply read the list and enjoy some of my own lonely laughs
Or find myself an RSO, club, or friends that need some of my time
Oh Scav Hunt I wish that I'd never seen your list
You made a first-class fool out of me
But I'm as tired as a fool can be
You kicked my ass, but I love you anyway

Scav Hunt I wish I'd never seen your face
I'll live my own life one of these days

Five days and so many pulled threads. There are two ways the next 24 hours can go, but in either case, I'll be out of contact for a while. Not even a cell phone at the end of it.


When it’s time,
I move my hermitage and go,
And there’s nothing
To be left behind.
-Layman P’ang

So when I finally calmed down from the massive stress that was this week, a bit of good luck came my way. I was offered a position as translator and editor for Nyoro~n fansubs. It's a small group (less than a half-dozen people) which serves as the largest distributor of subtitled episodes of Gundam 00 (pronounced Gundam Double-Oh), the new Gundam anime that's currently airing in Japan.

It's a massively distributed group--each episode is clocked at something like 30,000 downloads within the first 48 hours of release. I'm ecstatic that I've gotten the chance to work with them. Up until now it's been essentially a one-man operation on the translation end, with literally one guy doing all the translation, editing, timing, typesetting, subbing, etc. The fact that his work has been so absurdly well-distributed is a testament to how hard he's worked.

So now that there's some help on board, hopefully we can up the ante a bit and really turn out some high-quality subbing. I really recommend that you guys check it out--the show itself is actually not bad at all, and it's getting massive amounts of hype overseas (see the full-on Gundam00 special run by Newtype, below). Plus, it's not yet licensed in the US, so you won't feel guilty about downloading it illegally ;)

I start work on this Saturday's episode, so check back around Sunday night to see if it's up.

The fifth member of the Menagerie officially moved in today. Her name is Penny, she's a calico, and a true sweetheart.

At the moment, however, she's hiding under the armchair. Photos to come soon, whenever she emerges.

As I write this, I'm listening to the Wife of Bath's tale... as a rap.

There's still some love in this world.

Happy Halloween, everybody! If you're in the mood for candy, feel free to swing by my place this evening, when we'll have a delightful bucket-lowering candy-dispensation system in place. Try and steal this candy, ya punks!

What am I dressing up as? A dutiful student with far too much work to complete.

Barring that, a samurai.

I am getting officially raped with work this week. Between spending all of last weekend in DC (worth it) and my parents spending this weekend in Chicago (not going to be worth it), BA work, a large (10-15 page) midterm paper due on this coming Monday, a Japanese midterm due Thursday, a new book for English, and the parental claws being dug deep Thursday night onward, I'm seriously going to crack.

God help me.

So my new computer finally materialized in the mail the other day. This makes me infinitely happy, and unspeakably irritated at the fact that I left my external hard drive in South Carolina. Unfortunately, until I can go through with the file transfer sometime around Thanksgiving, this means that I'm stuck using the old one for most of my major functions.

Grumble.

There's glass in our bar cabinet that the renovators painted over. After finally succumbing to curiosity, I was able to peel and scrape away a fist-sized chunk of paint from one of the lower panels and stare out the other side at Julie. Under it all, the cabinet is a beautiful white wood frame with glass panels and stainless steel hardware. All covered in layers upon layers of white paint. Wtf?!

Time for some turpentine, a scraper, and a free afternoon. Bring on the stripper.

Update: One pane (pain) cleared. A dozen more painted-over glass panels discovered in the apartment. And the frame wood? It's not even white wood. It's a deep red cherry. Covered in paint. Sigh.

For those of you whom I haven't spoken to recently, there was a bit of a scare on our block on Sunday night. While Garett and I were on campus, MK, Julie, and Leslie all heard what they took to be a domestic dispute somewhere around our building. There was screaming, the sound of punches being thrown, and a hysterical woman. They called 911, the police came, and lingered around the block for quite some time. When G, Jan and I walked into the apartment, the cops were coming and going out of the front door of the apartment next door to us. We assumed that the dispute had occurred in there.

Monday, I notice that the management had, for the first time, turned on the lights in the back stairwell and near the front door. I didn't put things together until later.

Yesterday, we found out from another tenant that it wasn't a dispute, but a break-in. We were told that somebody had seen the robber, screamed, and there had been a fight. That was scary enough.

Then, today, Julie runs into the resident of the apartment in question and finds out what actually happened. She was standing in her kitchen, with all the lights in the apartment on, cooking. She had propped open the back door to relieve the heat. Some guy walked right in the back door, wrapped a tee-shirt around her head, and tried to assault her. She screamed  bloody murder, and a male roommate who happened to be awake down the hall came running. The intruder took off.

We're all on edge now. I've always felt relatively safe living in Hyde Park, but Leslie and I sit out on our back porch to smoke cigarettes. She was in direct view of the back stairs. If he came in, it wasn't to steal something--he came in for her.

The whole apartment's understandably shaken, for the time being.

It never ceases to amaze me that the spirit of political activism which characterized our parents' generation (in my family especially, since my parents were both early Baby Boomers) seems to have vanished from the cultural landscape of our own. It's become marginalized. The spirit's still alive and well in some circles, but there doesn't seem to be a central rallying point. Any time we're encouraged (usually out of hollow politeness) to make a change in the world, it's through a more professional path. Getting trained to be a cog in the machine so that we might someday have the opportunity to shift something an iota toward the better is so practical that it's borderline insulting.

I really hate aging Baby Boomers for dominating our national culture with their own nostalgia.

I really don't understand how to interact with people. Once in a while I have a real Aspy moment, despite the fact I'm not an Aspy, and I don't really feel bad about it. Even my friends aren't immune to my awkwardness. It commands all.

Bwaha.

I saw Jared's film premier tonight, and it occurred to me that I haven't had a solid existential crisis in a good, long time. Sending G off this afternoon might've been enough to trigger one, and switching routines back to "campus life" and realizing how little I really know of the people around me has been harrowing even in the first few hours. Sitting out on my back porch with a cigarette was a positively noir moment--the light out there decided to turn on spontaneously tonight, and the green pillar candle opposite it (with my hanging suzu bell spinning in the breeze to cap it off) made me feel positively poetic. For all of a few minutes, anyway. Sitting back at my desk in the off-color white of the apartment broke me of it soon enough.

I read an article in the New York Times many, many moons ago that discussed individual reliance shifting from friends to lovers in our society. It's not even specifically "lovers" so much as the embodiment of our ideals in one person; we, as a society, have a tendency to put all of our eggs in one basket, so to speak, and have become more comfortable relying on one person for our total emotional support than on the network. People, especially married people, have far fewer friends and make more and more important life decisions with only their "one" to consult them. Married couples don't ask friends for advice anymore. It's that deteriorating social network that makes me worry that we're becoming increasingly more isolated, and have only ourselves to blame.

God, we've all grown up, though. I look back at the photo of my high school graduation party which sits on my dresser, and I realize that I only really know what two or three out of that group of 20 are really doing. By and large the group has transformed, and those who haven't, I'm really not that close with anyway. It's not just the trappings of personality, either--emotionally I've come farther than I could have hoped (?) in three years, and yet I'm not entirely sure if I've really gone in the right direction. Does "maturing" mean growing numb? It's easy to learn to cope with disappointment, and to step over that line somehow and stop feeling much of anything. When you lose disappointment--in others, in situations, in yourself--does that mean you're an adult? Or does it mean you've just stepped past a cultural romanticization of youth as the "turbulent, passionate, best years"?

Cue crisis.

I woke up this morning, at 7 a.m. sharp, to the sound of our janitor and his eastern European friend making a huge racket. Given the cacaphony and my deliriousness, I'm not sure what they were doing, but it could have been either:

a.) dumping a garbage can full of empty soda cans into the recycling dumpster, directly beneath my window
b.) overturning said dumpster, directly beneath my window
c.) sawing said dumpster in half, directly beneath my window.

Whatever it was, it involved crashing noises, booming noises, and shrieking. I don't have class until 10:30. I woke up at 7.

Shoot me.

You know, every time I think the internet gets boring, something like this crops up.

The dance is the ending to an uber-popular anime currently airing in Japan called The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi, and it's become a worldwide phenomenon. The song is unbearably catchy, and the dance just makes you want to try it.



Moreover, the craze has hit every corner of the globe. Evidence? Observe. (High points: the huge mass of Canadians, the Philippines group, the French rocking out, the dog jumping the stage in Chile, and the Mexicans and Americans being by far the most coordinated.)