Berkeley, Day Two

Or three? I guess, technically, it’s Day Three, even though Day One was more about crossing the country to get here.

Anyway, I’m sick. it was bound to happen, really. i’m sick in the way that makes me not want to use capital letters, because my head’s all fuzzy and i feel like i’m floating above my head, looking down. that’s the cold medicine. but it’s also the fact that my head’s all clogged up. i think my headphones are so loud that everybody can hear ella fitzgerald belting “born to be blue” in my ear. Continue reading

Berkeley, Day One

During take-off yesterday, VH-1 distracted me with Grease. Funny, since I’d ripped the theme song earlier that morning.

I can only go so long without dancing and mouthing the words to the film, as it’s my favorite movie. I have tried to come up with something that sounds more like something you call your favorite movie, but this is the truth. I’ve watched this over and over since I was little. Nothing will ever beat it in my heart. This is my movie. There are others I appreciate, and others I love, but nothing will stop me still and have me like this one. anyway… Continue reading

Jet Blue, Part II

I’m in Connecticut. My cousin’s about to take me to the train station so I can get to Manhattan, where a shuttle will take me to JFK. I fly to Burbank, where I fetch my suitcase and check into a different airline that’ll take me to Oakland, to get to Berkeley.

It’s going to take many, many hours, and all I want to do is speed up time so I can get to stee.


Did I really just spend six and a half hours at a Starbucks? My editor is going to be so proud of me.

I don’t have an entry. I just wanted to let you know that things are going to be a little weird around here for the next day or two as AB finishes the redesign. I have no idea what kind of mojo she’s going to be doing, but there’s a chance that links will be a little wonky and stuff will be confusing… or maybe it’ll all be seamless because she’s a damn genius.

I have had about fifty cups of coffee this weekend. I’m now shaking. Bye, Berkeley.


I met a man over the weekend who lives in a Zen Buddhist retreat. I think he’s technically a monk. He’s the kind of guy who had major life changes and then moved away, found inner peace, and now lives off of next to nothing in a remote, self-containing, life-affirming, meditation-and-chanting sort of way.

In other words, the kind of person I find fascinating, yet would never, ever want to be. I started asking him questions. Continue reading