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Part of the reason I am compelled to write this is because of my silly new theme.  It makes me feel like my LJ is special.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about applying to PhD programs, and I figure "why not?"  This is a perfect time in my life to apply: I will have a master's degree in a year and a half, I am passionate about learning more in the subjects of theology and ethics, and I'm capable of doing it.  I just feel it.  And I feel it almost viscerally.

To this end, I'll be spending all of my Spring Break (March 2-6) in Atlanta.  I'm trying to knock down the doors of some profs at Emory, meet with some old profs at Agnes Scott, and generally make myself get out there.  I'm scared as hell, and it's kinda cool.

On another note, welcome to Lent!  My lenten resolution is not going so well, considering I've spent almost all today with an ANTM marathon on Bravo, but I intend to keep my TV turned off during Lent (with the exception of one hour per night), because I realized that I spent way too much time relying on the TV for comfort and company.

But now, my apartment is messy, and I need it to be cleaner.  I've been lurking on Livejournal for the past few months, and wanted to stop in and say hello.  Hello.

Like many of you, I have started keeping a different blog.  I like writing updates on the happenings of my life here in this blog, but something about it elicits writers block when I try to reflect on broader things than just what I ate for breakfast or what my semseter is looking like.

constantconversion.wordpress.com/

Add it to your RSS feed, or bookmark it under a "Blogs" tab on your browser if you'd like, or just ignore it and never look at it.  All I know is I'm writing it, and if you're reading this one I'd like for you to read what else I've been up to.

I'm sick.  It is not fun.  Especially when I've been on the upswing, both emotionally and academically, it's tough to be incapacitated for more than twenty four hours by little more than a nasty stomach bug and a throbbing headache.  I came home from my usual Wednesday evening worship with an uncomfortable stomach ache.  Then I woke up in the wee morning hours with an even worse stomach ache; before I knew it, I was vomiting in the bathroom.  Waking up the next morning, I was stiff all over and could hardly move.  I stayed in bed/couch all day.  When I tried to go to class this morning, it was useless...  within two hours I was entirely out of steam and I could hardly function.  As I walked to my car, it felt like I was assaulted by smells.  Everywhere, I could smell everything, and it only made my head pound more.
So now I'm taking the afternoon off, too.  Here's hoping that this sickness and malaise will pass. 

Dammit, we're not too old to have Christmas Lists! (even if they make us feel rather domesticated)


1. 12- to 16-quart stockpot with lid
2. Set of three (small, medium, and large) Corningware oven-safe dishes with lids
3. Baker's rack/bread box for cooling large amounts of baked goods
4. Sewing machine
5. Gordon Peerman's Blessed Relief: What Christians Can Learn from Buddhists About Suffering
6. The Veganomicon or Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World
7. IKEA's Expidit 4x4 box bookcase (in black-brown)
8. External hard drive



What is your Christmas List looking like these days?

Days like today (and weeks like this week) I really just want to throw in the towel and give up on life.  Seriously.  I felt so overwhelmed by the prospect of the work that I have to do (and the lack of inspiration with which to do it) that I just wanted to quit school altogether.

For as much as I do it, I really don't enjoy being so negative.   It's a difficult slump to get out of, and I end up complaining to my friends more than is necessary.  Though I am almost a quarter century old, I still expect for someone to be able to "take it away" if I cry to them, or to console me into believing that I am good enough and that I won't break from the pressure. Though I'm all for being an "adult" (so-called), it's still a sad thought to think that friends are only there to share one's joys and witty banter, as if the bright moments are the only moments in which our humanity is worth sharing. Aren't friends supposed to be there to hang on to our nonsensical emotionalism until the fragments we're sputtering start to make sense? I hope so.

So I came home and baked. Two pumpkin loaves, two apple crumb cake loaves, and one cinnamon-raisin quick bread loaf. I have plans for making vegetable soup this weekend. Food's importance, for all I shirk it throughout the week with last-minute Snicker's Bar lunches and too much Starbucks coffee, is irreplaceable, and I often experience this incredible presence of food on Thursday nights when I bake for the next day's community hour.

When I cook, I feel successful.  I feel that the pressure of a cheese grater is not something that will break me, and the constancy of a recipe is a comfortable boundary in which to experience the relief of accomplishment.  On days like today, I wonder what it would take to open a bakery.

I really don't hide the content of my posts in cryptic titles, do I?

This weekend was Fall Break, and I was ready for it. Unfortunately, I didn't do much, and so I don't feel particularly ready to get back into things. Something about this weather has me down, too. It's dreary outside, just cold enough to feel gloomy instead of crisp, and I cannot manage to find a pair of socks that keep my feet warm despite the usual sweating that all feet do. To inaugurate the fall weather, Syl and I did some sweater shopping this weekend, and bought a footstool at Ikea. I have a feeling that this little footstool, with a warm mug of apple cider, will make me forget about my sock woes.

Add to this a newly fixed toilet! It flushes, just like a toilet should, and I astound myself with the wonder that a functional household brings an inordinate measure of bliss.

Now I have "the real world" to get back to. When all I want to do is cuddle up with a mug of hot apple cider and knit with my feet warmly tucked under both myself and a blanket, it's difficult to read Theodore of Mopsuestia and think about papers. It's damned difficult to think that in a few short months, my M.Div will be halfway done. It's uncomfortable to think that no matter how hard I try, life and gloominess just catch up to me like a cold I cannot shake.

I also renewed my vehicle registration today, within an hour of finding the renewal forms in my mailbox. This required an emissions inspection and a trip to the county clerk's office. All within an hour (and with a slight Taco Bell maneuver in the middle).  Like the trip back from Atlanta this morning, I was joined by Barbara Kingsolver on CD, a bottle of water, and the same sad gloomy weather that I've been fighting off for the past 48 hours.  Maybe some knitting is just what the doctor ordered.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 56.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next seven sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

The history of Scripture, internal and contextual, for all its stresses and cross-currents, is being read as the production of the meaning of a corporate symbolic life that has some unity and integrity. We simply do not know of historic Christian communities that do not introduce people into their structures by a ritual identification with the death and resurrection of Jesus, or that do not corporately proclaim that death and resurrection in 'ministries of word and sacrament'. The unities and thus the limits of what it makes Christian sense to say are bound to the question of what--or who--the Church intends to make present, as the authoritative point of judgment and the resource for action in hope, in its corporate action, that action which is specific to it as Church. And Scripture is read, then, with that question in mind: how--without gross distortion and selectivity, 'synchronic' reconciliations--are we to 'follow' the history of Scripture so that the authoritative centrality of the narratives presupposed in baptism and eucharist appears? It is because--as we have seen-- these narratives have their life in the time of the whole canonical ensemble that we cannot simply make them general and abstract symbols, or simply scour the text of iconic types. The scriptural history has to be told, has to be followed diachronically or literally, as it leads to Christ and the cross of Christ. A reading of Scripture that takes place in faith cannot avoid Luther's hermeneutical axiom, crux probat monia; without it, the whole idea of a distinctive community of faith, a new creation, a community to whom something specific has happened, is necessarily eroded.
--Rowan Williams, On Christian Theology, The Doctrine of Scripture

Last week amid the failing of WaMu and various other markers of widespread fear of financial downfall, I thought aloud to friends, "I wonder when my bank is going to go under?"

Well, witch vibe, it happened.  I guess now I'm a Citi Group customer?

I mean, acquisitions happen all the time, and hopefully now these huge companies are so big that they cannot fail, and I know it's better to have one company buy another than to have one company sit by while the other company tanks, but it's easy to get caught up in the fear when that's all you hear.

Believe me, my meager sum of money in Wachovia/Citi Group is not much compared to the billions of dollars out there to be lost, but it's all I have.

Here's hoping that optimism gets the best of fear.

03:30 a.m. :: Alarm clock and phone ring
04:30 a.m. :: Get out of bed, continue writing Constructive Christian Theology paper started night previous, due in 6.5 hours
06:00 a.m. :: Officially break from writing to take shower, make coffee, brush teeth, and otherwise feel like an adult
07:12 a.m. :: Panera gives me a bagel with cream cheese (in exchange for my money)
08:10 a.m. :: Greek class begins. Yes, I am taking Greek again. Not *more* Greek, but I am auditing the intro class to learn all those wonderful things I never learned last year
09:15 a.m. :: Continue writing Constructive Christian Theology paper, now due in1.75 hours
10:20 a.m. :: Finish writing Constructive Christian Theology paper; reward myself with a new, cheap nail polish (mocha brown) from the CVS across the street
11:10 a.m. :: Take notes in Constructive Christian Theology class; mind is effectively and happily obliterated
12:00 p.m. :: Lunch with friends; we commiserate about our Constructive papers
01:30 p.m. :: Begin stuffing envelopes at student-work job (while watching The Office at my computer)
05:00 p.m. :: Stop stuffing envelopes, walk back to campus
05:30 p.m. :: Panera gives me more food, in exchange for more money.  As I sit and eat, I attempt to read Gregory of Nyssa's "On the Making of Man" though make little headway, considering the abnormally loud study group next to me
06:00 p.m. :: Go back to Library, where I make some headway on reading Gregory of Nyssa, but not much, as I am overwhelmed with the urge to use the nail polish recently purchased
07:15 p.m. :: Call Dad, chat for a few minutes.  He's worried that I don't have gas, while I'm worried that he's not telling me what's really wrong
07:30 p.m. :: Meeting with friends (pre-scheduled and weekly occurring meeting)
08:30 p.m. :: Meeting officially concludes, we stick around to chat anyway
09:00 p.m. :: Finally in my car, on the way home
09:07 p.m. :: At home, turn on Bravo, cannot find remote, but don't really care since I kinda like Bridget Jones's Diary, anyway

I have gas in my car. It wasn't cheap, and it was still stressful to find, but with each additional gallon that rushed through that pump into my car, I thought, "okay, another 25-30 miles..." At 150 miles, I stopped. Really, who needs to have more than 150 miles in their tank if they're not taking a big trip?

In the week that I have been "without gas," I have been making do in the way that humans have done for centuries. I've walked everywhere.  Though I have had the added enjoyment of catching up with music on my iPod, I like to think that I was connecting with something pure in those daily walks.  My daily circuit went like this: two miles to school, .5 miles to work (from school), then 1.5 miles (from work to home). Add to that the usual walking we all do (to grab a bite to eat, to go from one class/meeting to another, to take a break and go check our email), and that's a good 5-6 miles daily. Add to that a 1 mile round-trip errand for work on Tuesday, and the 3-mile walk/run with a co-worker on Tuesday night, and I clocked 9-10 miles in one day. Conservatively estimating Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, that means I have probably walked 26-30 miles in the past five days. I am exhausted.

To that end, I am taking what those of us in theological circles call "sabbath" time right now. I need some revivification, restoration, and respiration.  I need some pleasure-reading, some yoga, and some happy thoughts.  Because life does not stop just because you are tired.  Papers still need to get written (for Monday!  Eek!), chapters need to get read, groceries need to be bought, checkbooks need to be balanced, and friends still need to know that you love them.

This week has reminded me that though we all possess rationality, we are still human.  The prospect of uncontrollable scarcity drives rich people to do crazy things (like fill up at every gas station they pass, just in case the next one is out), and under the meta-current swirling overhead, life keeps moving.  The freedom and necessity to change your habits still make you feel somehow more righteous than others, even though your necessity drove you to make a decision that others' necessity would not allow them to make.  And we are at our core uncomfortable with our own flexibility, with living in provisionality, with trusting both the free market and trusting providence to provide.  Sorry to sound so preachy, but when you're mentally as well as physically exhausted, it's hard to get out of your everyday vocabulary (even to blog).

I'm sure that it's all because of rumors that Nashville doesn't have any gas, but gas stations in Nashville are dry. Every gas station I pass has all its numbers taken down, and every pump covered with a plastic bag. This would not usually be a problem for my fuel-efficient Toyota Corolla, but my gas light came on last Thursday, which means that, with the driving I have done since then, I have about 15-20 miles left until I am stranded on the side of the road.

I suppose it's a good thing that I walked almost everywhere for a portion of this summer. This experience means that I won't be late to class because i did not realize it took me 35-40 minutes to walk to campus, so I'm at least happy for that. But seriously. No gas. It's shocking that we need so much of one commodity that without it, we begin to question the very ebb and flow of our daily lives. It struck me last night that I can't go grocery shopping that the Kroger I usually visit, and I can't save my grocery shopping trips and get a month's worth of food in one go. I will need to start shopping at the higher-priced store with lower-quality produce on the way back from or to school, on an as-needed basis.  Thank goodness that I have a fair amount of dry beans, rice, etc. in my pantry.  Why this panic all of a sudden?

What's frightening is that once Nashville does get gas, everyone will be so freaked out and excited to finally have gas that all the pumps will dry up almost as soon people can start texting their friends and telling them that we have gas again. Honestly, I am surprised that it really has taken this to get me walking to class again. On that note, I might just tone down the driving long-term.

If you have gas, be thankful.

I am not normally one to write about my dreams, but I had a particularly hard time waking up this morning from a dream I had last night.

All I remember now is that Syl and I were going out somewhere after dark (maybe to get food?), and when we pulled up to the store, another car pulled up next to ours.  We got out of the car, and immediately the other car opened, and four guys popped out.  They had guns pointed at us, and told us to get back into our car.  One told me to sit in the driver's seat and to look at the rear-view mirror, which for some reason had been turned so that I could not see it clearly.  Immediately, I heard a gun shot, and I knew that I had been shot in the back of the head, where the brain meets the spinal cord.  I felt my arms and legs go numb, and everything went dull.  I don't remember how we got there, but next we were in the strangers' car; I was still alive, but I had no idea how.  All I knew was that I needed to play dead.  If I let them know I was alive, both Syl and I would be gone.  I remember trying to make small hand signals on the seat next to me, trying to get Syl's attention to let him know that I wasn't dead yet.  Next, we were somehow surrounded by these men in a dark warehouse, and I manage to grab one of their guns and shoot them as if they were clown dolls at a carnival.  We run to the car and drive home.  For some reason, dialing 911 got us to a local police station, who refused to help us because they were in upstate New York, and we were in Connecticut.  I remember driving up to what was apparently our house, a manicured middle-class mansion in the blue tinge of that time just before dawn, thinking how I would get in touch with a hospital I didn't know, or if I would be judged for killing those four men.

This dream was so incredibly vivid, moreso than any dream I can remember having.  It stuck with me so strongly that I felt I had to write it out to get rid of it.

I realize that I am broke.  I hardly have two pennies to rub together (in the long run), but at the moment, financial aid loan checks have hit the bank, and my head is swimming in the contradictions.  Though I have a generous amount in my checking account, it is paltry given the length of time in which this "generous" amount will be my only source of income.

So what do I do with these contradictions?  I live on the side of today, on the generous side.  I bought a new phone this weekend and extended my contract with AT&T, purchased a Bluetooth headset for the drives back and forth to Atlanta, and then (as if that weren't enough money to be spending), re-spent my anticipated rebate money today on "pity purchases" at Target, including a new tote bag, two necklaces, and three tops.  And underwear.  The underwear was the only purchase that was "necessary."

In reflecting on this personal contraditction, I realized something about my upbringing: I was raised with a strange view of money.  On the one hand, I was given a "clothing allowance" at a fixed weekly rate (so that I might appreciate the finitude of earned money), yet at the large money-junctions in my life (e.g., choosing a college), I was impressed with the notion that "no matter the cost, we can make it work."  Consequently, I have an incredibly optimistic view of finances long-term, yet the experience of finite resources has my stomach turning under the lofty cover of optimism.  My ultimate goal of spiritual/commerical simplicity remains, but it comes into conflict with my emotionally driven purchasing.  The items I bought today reflect this.  I do not need necessarily them, but the intention in going to Target was to make myself feel better, a response to mornings of looking at my closet and thinking I don't feel good wearing any of it.  Making the connection between spiritual and commerical simplicity and emotional need is a difficult step to make for me, but I am so hopeful that I will not fail.  Here's to continued hope in the face of lived reality.  We can break old habits, I have no other choice.

PS- Thanks to those of you so far who have helped me with my "playlist project!"  Feel free to make as many suggestions as possible!  The only limit is my income. 

For some reason I had the thought today at work that I wanted a good, sexy playlist.  While driving home, I thought, "Hell, let's make it an all-around questionnaire!"  Because I don't just want a sexy playlist, I want cheerful, sleepy, angry, brooding playlists, too!  Since I don't really know enough about good music (and trust in the endless musical wisdom of my friends), I wanted to pose the question to you.

I would be honored to take some time and make up themed playlists based on your suggestions, ready to suit any mood.  If there are enough entries or responses, I'll put the lists together and post them.

If there are too many songs not already in my library (which, let's face it: I probably won't already own a lot of this stuff), I will start investing in these songs, one week, one paycheck, or one lump of discretionary $15 bucks at a time.  That is my solemn promise.

And if you can't think of a particular song, an artist or album would do well, too.



( What is your all-time favorite... )
Thanks in advance for your submissions!  If you're embarassed of your musical taste (as I might be), feel free to comment anonymously.

As the weekend ends, I take a moment to reflect on the past few days and what they mean for the months to come:



First thing: money.  Who doesn't worry about it?  This semester (and I wish I'd caught this sooner and asked someone about it) I received about $1,000 less in student loans than I'd recieved the past two semesters.  This isn't a huge deal, but it struck me as incredibly constricting when I got the check.  On the one hand, I will now be responsible for my cell phone bill for the first time ever, so we're looking at an additional $50-$60 a month that I didn't have in my budget last year.  On the other hand, I also paid off my car loan this summer, which means a $230+ car payment that I no longer have to make.  So now I am approaching the tight budget as a personal spiritual challenge to live simply and reduce credit card debt.  Surely this is no new challenge; in the two years since graduation I have announced "12 months to credit freedom" so many times that I no longer allowed myself to make such proclamations.  There is something unique about this time, though.  I feel a spiritual resolve to quit myself of so much of my materialism and egotism.

Second thing: internship.  Today was the baptism Sunday, held at a local farm whose creek ran dry.  About 200 folks were there along with nine people to be baptized, and due to the dry creek, we went back to some serious Christian roots and had a large emphasis on anointing them with oil.  Four priests anointed them with oil, then a fifth priest baptized them in water from individual jars.  I was in charge of handing the fifth priest (who was holding the babies) with the opened jars of water and offering her the jar of oil to anoint their heads and seal the baptism.  Incredibly, the whole experience was smooth.  Solemnity and celebration mixed with equal parts, and everyone that I saw was glowing.  I am convinced more and more that this internship will be an immeasurable blessing and will force me to mature in my spiritual and interpersonal relationships.

Third thing: friends and love.  Both boyfriend Syl and college friend Adrienne were in town this weekend, and having a full "house" was such an incredible, content experience.  Living alone reminds me that I don't always make time for people who mean much to me, so having two such great people in my home left me brimming with unexpected joy.  Their visits seem brief, but they give me confidence that I am not a hermit who repells friends.

I sound a little like a schmuck, all happiness and smiles and resolve, but I feel the need to record my hopefulness.  The coming months will be trying, so I need to shore up all the love and comfort that I can now.

Started my internship with St. A's today.  I didn't think it would be too intense, until the head pastor came up to me as I was folding bulletins before the service with a large, white, table cloth-like vestment.  "Try this one on," she says, as if it's been the plan all along for me to be in vestments.  Apparently, it has been, but I just can't tell when she's joking.  So I wore a huge, white, table cloth-like sheet over me, the hem of which dragged the floor and pooled about my feet like a blanket.  And I was "a pastoral presence" at the front of the church today.  I stood by the altar when the Eucharist was prepared, and at one point, I anxiously followed the other intern around like she knew what she was doing.  It was awkward when we both realized that neither of us knew what we were doing.

Fun times had by all, a strange experience.  I couldn't tell if I was anxious, giddy, or thoroughly comfortable.

Sorry I couldn't write a more coherent entry.  I made some green Thai curry with eggplant, green beans, and chickpeas, and my stomach is growling.  I'll tell you more soon.

Update on the curry:  I didn't know until after making this recipe that eggplant becomes more and more bitter as it ages.  It also gets heavier.  Apparently, what I thought was a great purchase turned out to be one bitter eggplant.  Oh well, I can just discard the eggplant when I get to it.

Apparently, left without internet for a week in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina gets you in a really lazy mood.  I just came back to Nashville from four days in the mountains, and all I did there was eat, gamble (with Syl's grandmother), read, and run.  That's it!  Oh, and watched a heck of a lot of Olympics and other random stuff that was on TV.  It was as if my body was suddenly repulsed by nature.  The thought of hiking made me feel a little woozy, so my default posture was sloth.  Maybe next time I'll do better.
But I honestly feel like I have had a relaxing vacation.  Classes start up this Monday, as does an internship and some respectable hours in the office.  Considering that I haven't really had a break since last semester ended, I feel it was my prerogative to do so little and to enjoy some last moments of laziness before reentering a world of busy people.
Now, I have some pre-semester cleaning, nail-cutting, and maybe some back-to-school shopping to do.  I can't wait to tell you how my classes are looking.

Since I know you're all on pins and needles about this cable issue, I wanted you to know that it's gotten worse.  The cable dude came by my apartment this afternoon to see a tv whose problems were the exact opposite of those I described: instead of all channels except NBC coming in clear, now NBC was the only channel that showed clearly.  So, the cable dude fixed the problem... or so I thought!  Twenty minutes after he left, NBC was all neon fuzzy again.  When I call the cable company for the second time in three days to schedule another appointment, I find out that NBC all over town is out.  So I wait.  Two hours later, when NBC is still on the fritz, I call again, and the only time the woman has to schedule a repair is tomorrow afternoon between 3 and 6.  What are the chances?  Right in the middle of work.

In other news, I have been on a happy shopping spree of sorts.  Three school books in one week (classes start on August 25), a super-sexy-cool Aveda acne treatment, and now a super-sexy-grown-up planner!!  It's from Franklin Covey, it's tan and chocolate, and it's a real. adult. planner.  It's so awesome!  Already, I have scheduled all of my classes this fall, as well as noted all reading assignments for the two classes who have posted syllabuses online.  Isn't it exciting? For $60 it better be exciting.

In addition to classes this semester, I will be interning with a local church.  So far, I've taken part in a staff meeting, and with that little introduction I already feel at home.  Apparently, I'm seen as the "clergy intern" which is not only intimidating, but an incredible vote of confidence.  I have a potentially huge responsibility there, but it is one that the staff is confident I will accomplish.  So while I am not able to visit home that often on the weekends, know that it's because I'll be baptizing babies, distributing the eucharist, and being otherwise holy.  I might even have vestments?  All without the official sanction of any institutional church.

The Olympics would be better if NBC didn't look like scrambled porn on my t.v.

Comcast now knows and says they'll be here this Wednesday evening to fix it.  Or, try to figure out what it is.

In the meantime, I'll watch my scrambled porn Olympics and wish for the best.

Tonight is the first night in days that I've not felt so completely tired after work that I pass out on the couch by 8:00.  I'm taking this as a good sign.

Work has been incredibly busy.  My projects are only two, but they are both intense: 1) Matching Over 100 Students to Over 400 Donors and Making Thank-You Packets for those Over 100 Students with the Names of their Donors, and 2) Creating and Implementing a Filing/Tracking System for over 400 University and Non-University Publications.  All this after completing the seven-page index of a 145-page training manual.  Whew.  But damn am I proud of my work.  This filing system?  Sweet.  Everyone who hears about it is impressed, and I'm not just trying to toot my own horn unnecessarily.  You'd be impressed, too, I'd bet.

I will be starting classes again on August 25, which leaves two weeks for work and one week for a vacation.  Then I'll be back into the fray with a 10-hour-a-week internship, 10 hours of work a week, and 12 credit hours (Constructive Theology, Field Education, History of Liturgy, and Economy of Salvation).  I'm not too sure I can make the transition smoothly, but I'll try.  Not to mention, it's going to feel awesome to be able to master all of these tasks and make them look easy.  I've never been too confident of my abilities, but with a lot of work I've become moreso. 

And on a side note, I had the strangest celebrity-sex-dream two nights ago.  I mean, strange.  Do you know Michael Cera (of Arrested Development and Juno fame)?  Yeah.  Michael Cera.  I'm sure it means something, but I have no idea what.  All I know is that we were dating in San Francisco, where people I knew in high school noticed me (though I never went to high school in San Francisco), and he lived/worked in an apartment that looked like a crazy cross between the inside of a log cabin, night club, and yacht (perhaps I have been watching too much Arrested Development).  And what makes it worse is that the next night, when I inexplicably felt like watching an episode of Arrested Development, for the first time ever I consciously thought, "George Michael Bluth looks is hot..."  I've never thought that typically "hot" actors are attractive, favoring more "nerdy" actors.  But this one took me by surprise.  So much so, that I told Syl about it this evening.  He laughed.

PS- Regarding my most recent entry, I have decided to not take part in the HIV vaccine drug trial.  annasaurusrex's comment in particular made me realize how intimidated I was to face a lumbar puncture, and that is not a bad thing.  I'm just not ready to put my body into that kind of harm, even for the best of causes.