"There is somethere else here."

Either my fingers are now conduits for typewritten profundities, or I'm totally losing it.

(edited for detail-adding) There are 112,000 white flags and 3,000 red flags planted in the memorial quad, spilling over into the adjacent greens. (pictures -- the slideshow is worth it.) Spending three hours of my sunday planting these flags, each white one standing for 6-7 Iraqi civilians and soldiers killed and each red one standing for an American soldier, was sobering enough. But the thing about activism is this: once you start, it's hard to say no. I ended up moderating a panel discussion of veterans -- all students, all served in Iraq -- which went very, very well. The typical anti-war "screw the military" crowd was silent; it was a very respectful event. Everyone said what they set out to get across, and if I do say so myself, I was a very even-keel moderator.

The thesis plods onward. I've actually been getting things done (y'know, on the order of writing the damn thing.) but still. nagging doubts. is this even remotely academic? will this help me AT ALL in the future? does any of that matter? bleh. I'm tired of doubt. I think I wrote that last week.

Coming to terms with singledom took less time than I thought. I'm reeeeally into it, actually.

The fine folks at Teach for America get to size me up two weeks from tuesday, close-up and in the flesh. I have no idea what my five-minute lesson will be all about. Or where I'll rustle up some professional clothings. Hrm. This is not far away.

Also: I am sick and Eugene is small.

Apparently, my grandparents sent me a care package. My family manages to overcome insanity with moments of astonishing sweetness. That's sweet in the "kind, cute, loving" sense, not the "check this out, bro, it's totally _" sense.