(unintelligible yelling, then) "The giant is awake!"

Never count the beast out until you're safely back at home, I guess. The bureaucratic leviathan has reared its head, spurred on by my shouts of triumph.

My master's degree is not done with me yet.

Apparently my first graduation application somehow disappeared, and my second - put through after an hour on the phone with the registrar this morning - came with an unsettling footnote: I am 3 credits short of the number I need. Why? Well, to my limitless dismay, it has come to light that the approval of my advisor for a course means nothing if the school doesn't agree. And they don't. My advisor says he should have checked.

It was a fine course, though. A fine-goodbye-three-thousand-dollars-and-now-I-have-to-come-up-with
-some-way-to-get-three-credits-and-can't-graduate-until-January course.

Have I mentioned lately how I hate everything?

Update: I will be getting my necessary credits through a practicum, for which I will be doing some writing and reading I kinda wanted/needed to do anyways. As for you, Ms. McDingo Pancakes, this issue arose largely because of my taking classes outside of our program/school, so do be EXTRA careful if attempting to do the same. Granted, had a full array of classes been offered in the summer term, I might not have had to go outside the program...Ah, well. No time to worry about this all now...

A tale of two bear tales

Bear-related news item the first: Our little friend Butterstick
God Bless the internet - apparently a fellow named Tom over at Unrequited Narcissism had devised a way to hack the National Zoo's online voting system, currently being used to select the name of a new baby panda, such that you can now add the option "Butterstick" to the list of choices. See the news note and a ridiculously cute picture of the panda in question here or learn how you can vote for Butterstick here.

Bear-related news item the second: DO NOT SEE THIS MOVIE.
I have greatly enjoyed, over the years, those documentaries where people who take themselves or their passions too seriously are held up for all to see and find hilarious. Something like Spellbound might be a good example, or large parts of Michael Moore's films. In the case of Grizzly Man, however, the joke is on you - this movie dares you to laugh at it while making you the most uncomfortable you'll ever be while watching a movie. Grizzly Man tells the story of Timothy Treadwell, a failed actor who abjures the company of man to live amongst those he claims as his true friends - grizzly bears.
Now I have worked with schizophrenics, and this guy tops them all. His life with the bears, as he recorded it in a sort of video diary, is punctuated by wild mood swings and thoroughly bizarre ramblings. The high point of the film for me was when one of the bears - who, in a manner apparent to all but Timothy, struggle to tolerate his presence - does what a bear does in the woods and defecates. Timothy rushes to the fecal mass and begins petting it, saying, as though to the bear, "I'm touching your poop! I'm touching your poop!" and then begins weeping.
I won't carry on much more with this. Timothy's friends are as strange as he is, and the whole documentary is like watching a surrealist car accident in slow motion. One might rightly ask why such a movie was made, and that question is answered at the movie's onset: Timothy's story was brought to the attention of a filmaker when, recently, Timothy was eaten by a bear.

Weirdness abounds...

The Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi Show!

Whoa.

If you were to take Cibo Matto and legendary Japanese rock band Guitar Wolf, get them both really hopped up on sugary cereals, and mate them together with Hello Kitty as the midwife only to then raise the resultant child exclusively on cartoons, you would get Puffy AmiYumi.

I attended their show last night at Irving Plaza. It was, in a word, INSANE. Despite a terrible opening band with three white guys whining about something, the crowd - which was surprisingly diverse both racially and in terms of age - was fantastically invested in the show. When Ami and Yumi took the stage, the audience went ballistic; I thought everyone there was going to explode when the band rocked out on a song called "Energy" and then slipped into the opening organ riffs of the Teen Titans theme song.

I couldn't stop smiling for the duration of the concert. They played the theme song to some new Pokemon movie, a cadre of really fun and energetic songs, and finished with the theme song for their own show on the cartoon network, "Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi." Of course the audience wanted an encore, and Ami took the mic and said, "Thank you for the encore. We'd like to play our favorite song." Which, oddly enough, turned out to be "Basketcase" by Green Day. I'm not complaining.

This was ridiculously fun, and I cannot encourage you more strongly to see this group live if you get the chance.

T-e-e-n t-i-t a-n-s, Teen Titans, Let's GO!

Almost Mugged! (albeit by squirrels)

I was enjoying thoroughly Monday's respite from our oppressively hot weather; having left work around 5:30, I stopped off at the farmers' market to buy some pumpkin bread and raspberry apple juice, and then seated myself - juice, bread, and book in hand - near my dearly beloved statue of Garibaldi in Washington Square Park. A few pages in, I was struck with that undeniable sense of being stared at. I turned my head to the right, and there, not six inches from my side, was a squirrel. He was poised as if to pounce, and had on his squirrel countenance a look that could only say "give me the bread and I might let you walk away unharmed."

"No deal, " said I, trying to stand up to walk away. I found, however, that two more squirrels had moved right up next to my feet. One was on his hind legs, and the other crouched; the latter squirrel's sentiment was clear: "Stop screwing around, whitey, and give us the bread."

How could a person even punch a squirrel, if they had to? They're all teeth and little claws, and they practically breathe rabies and, I don't know, chlamydia, probably.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists," I told the one crouched on the bench near me. "And tell your racist friend that his act is played out. Even if it is squirrel racism. " Reminding myself that I was miles above these filthy creatures on the food chain, I rose and started to walk away. But they followed fast - almost too fast. I choked, and acted out of fear for the worst. "Heathens!" I yelled, throwing a small chunk of bread over their heads. I quickly walked the other way to the Kimmel Student Center. The guard inside had apparently seen me yelling. "Trouble with the squirrels?" he asked. Then, not waiting for an answer, he added, solemnly, "they tried to take my friend's taco, right out of his hand" and stared off, thoughtfully, into the park.

Big in Japan

Any post whose title is an Alphaville reference has got to be full of goodness, right? Right. So it is with great pleasure and a modicum of "am I really about to do this?" that I announce to you, dear readers, that I shall be taking a trip to Japan for two weeks in October.

This, my first ever trip outside the 51 states (U.S.+Canada), is made possible by a grant from the Hilary and Luke Foundation for a More Japanese Graham, to whom I am tremendously grateful.

I'll be by myself over there, although there are a few folks I'll be looking up. Mainly old doctors like Sho Kanzaki with whom I worked at Kresge. I imagine the trip will be transformative and a thoroughly broadening experience. If you have any suggestions for things I should do while over there, please do not hesitate to let me know!

Act II - The Apartment in Crisis?
Is the famed fourth floor apartment in crisis? If by "crisis" you mean "andrew finally came back from the navy and then left again to go to Nantucket after he, Jaina and I had a very pleasant dinner at that one place I like" then yes, yes it is.

Dr. Science - an underwater denizen?

I went back to Michigan this weekend, both to see my immediate family all together for the first time in a long while and to volunteer at the 156th annual Highland Games. The games are a major event for the St. Andrew's society, which is the Scottish benevolent society of which I became a third-generation member earlier this year. Just what did I do to volunteer to help out? Well, let's put it this way: I'm one of the three in the following picture to be holding a golf club:

Yep, in my spare time I'm the Loch Ness Monster. This little girl kept hugging me. Constantly. All day. I had my photo taken with about a thousand small children while in that beautifully-made-but-still-really-hot-inside costume. But don't worry, I also found time to taken advantage of the finer things in life...
...like visiting with highland cattle...
...having a staring contest with a baby...
...and answering the age-old question: how well can the Loch Ness Monster dance like a robot?

I ended up having a pretty fun - albeit strange - time as Nessie, and I even got to lead the march of the scottish clans during the day's main events. I think the kids there had fun with me, and it was for a good cause, so who's complaining?

This day in history

Important Announcement Number One - On The Status of Grad School

me = done

Important Announcement Number Two - On Living in New York

As of this evening there will have passed one full calendar year since my arrival in New York city (an event marked by a blog post two days later)

Important Annoucement Number Three - On Pecan Pie

There are conditions of temperature and age which result in pecan pie tasting just like bacon. I do not encourage you to find these conditions.