I had a random thought this morning, before 5am, as I struggled to wake up for good. I kept hitting snooze, and I realized I was screwing myself over by taking away my precious getting-ready time in nine minute portions. Each snooze-unit of sleep was making it more and more likely that I would show up late to my first briefing as a medical student (which I did, by about four minutes). It occurred to me that by hitting snooze I was playing a kind of solo "Name that Tune." I was betting myself that I could get ready in 45 minutes... then in 36... then in 27. It's like the guy on N.T.T. who bids the lowest number of notes, maybe two, and then when the game show host says "Okay, name that tune in two notes!" he has this look on his face that can only mean he's thinking, "I'm fucked."

That was me this morning.

I'm reading a fantastic novel called "Like the Red Panda," by Andrea Siegel. The main character, Stella, shares my outlook on life, save two small differences. Basically, both Stella and I admit that we are solitary warriors in this life, alone in our heads even amongst the people we care about. We both save our true feelings for when we're in the company of a select few who understand us (and who feel similarly marginalized and alone); otherwise we're very pleasant people, and we try hard. The differences, though, are: 1. She has found peace with her solitude and actually seems to prefer being misunderstood; I, on the other hand, can't shake the feeling that there's something wrong with me for not needing to reach out all the time. 2. I am optimistic that things will change one day, whereas Stella is suicidal. And not in a tragic way, just more of a matter-of-fact way.

Interestingly, in the book Stella's stage is characterized as one which you need to move through to get to where I am. Stella uses the old riddle of the creature who has four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening, to describe her grandfather. She is depressed by his failing body and mind. At one point he says to her, "Why don't you try rising above being a woman? You're so hurt by everything you can't separate your duty from your emotions." I take this to mean that she needs to get beyond her callused world view and not let the disconnectedness of everything bother her. She is so comfortable being alone that it actually makes her uncomfortable to be around others-- kind of like Charlotte in the bunny vibrator episode of Sex and the City. Let's go back to the riddle, then, but with a new interpretation. Stella is the two legged man at noon, and I am the three legged man who has gained back one of the childhood legs of optimism and innocence. I really don't think Stella is going to commit suicide at the end of the book, because now she sees what she is lacking. For me, this has always been the first step in successfully resolving a problem.

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My cell phone automatically deletes text messages that are oldish. I think it takes about five or six days. It's like stuff before then never even happened. Tabula rasa. Interesting.

I've been sitting here for the last few hours scouring iTunes for songs that express exactly how I'm feeling right now. I'd feel really satisfied if I could compile a playlist of no less than nine songs that adequately sum up my current emotional state, so I could avoid having to express my feelings in actual words. Here's what I'd do: I'd make a CD, put my walkman on antiskip, and go drive. Except I don't have my car yet... so I'd thrash around my new living room. I don't know where all this energy is coming from. I'm sorry to start out this way... too intense and erratic. Drama-queenish. I should have made a sandwich. Here, I'll make an open-faced sandwich.

Alabama clouds are amazing. My first thought when I saw them was: Magritte must have lived here. Yes, they're that perfect. I'm talking primo cumulus specimens. The best part was late in the afternoon when the clouds lined up as a team and threw lightning back and forth. It freaked me out at first... lightning isn't something I saw very frequently in California. In fact, the only time in recent memory that lightning did any real damage was when the power went out in the middle of watching "The Passion of the Christ." That was some crazy business. It's a good story, but it's better when Andy tells it, so I'll leave that to him.