I have returned; hail the conquering hero. Casting about for just the right words to capture the experience of the last few days. So until I find them, you’ll just have to bear with me. Oh yeah. And I’m seeing a movie now. Later.

I’ll be away until sometime Friday, so don’t expect any updates until then. Have a good week.

A year ago today, this piece ran in the St. Joseph News-Press:

Sarah Vollertsen tried. So did Kristen Anderson. A series of zone defenses, double-teams — all tried it, but all found the same result.

Nothing Northwest Missouri State tried on Wednesday night could slow Truman State center Jennifer Perkins.

The 6-foot-1 Perkins grabbed 18 rebounds and scored 27 points as she led the Bulldogs to a 73-64 come-from-behind road victory over the Bearcats.

“We tried adjusting during the game, but nothing seemed to work,” said Northwest coach Gene Steinmeyer. [FULL ARTICLE]

I love my sister very much (as I do all my family.) Watching her powerful and yet graceful play during college was something I enjoyed very much, and miss today. Now that the basketball phase of her life is over, I know she will find something else she excels at that will bring her joy. Whatever that turns out to be, I’m still rooting for her.

An Amazon wish list? Fuck that. Buy me this. Richard Branson has one.

Snowboarders are sexy as hell. So is most of Apple’s product line. But, umm, what the hell is this?

Now back to your regularly scheduled day.

Stayin’ in. Watching movies with my sister. Downing Wendy’s and Champagne. See you in aught three.

Hey, pretty soon I’m going to a comedy club! That will be fun! I can’t wait!

But until then, wow! I am confused! It was this… this “trailer” before Lord of the Rings! For this campaign, I guess?! It’s wacky! I have NO idea what they do!

It was the night before Christmas…and my hand fucking hurt. Early in the Eve, I noticed some pain in my right hand. As the night wore on, it intensified until I was babying my hand. By bedtime (2a), I was wrapping presents left-handed.

Sleep was also long coming. As I tried to find a position that integrated elevation, circulation, and comfort, I only managed sleep in two hour snippets. After awaking to pain in my hand, I’d try to roll over and start again.

By breakfast Christmas Day, the situation was untenable. I called a “medi-dial” service and was told that she recommended I “escalate” the problem. Thirty minutes later, I was in the emergency room.

Following a trio of x-rays, the doc told me tendonitis looked like the culprit. He prescribed anti-inflammatory drugs. I’m glad it’s not something more serious, but a terrifying question lingers in the recesses of my mind: is this a precursor to carpal tunnel?

I have tendonitis. It hurts. More later.

It’s not a white Christmas, but I hope it will be merry all the same.

Now off to wrap presents…

…this semester is in the bag. For better or worse.

Update [19:15]: I finished the final essay final. Now I’m sitting in our gleaming new 8 dual-G4 Mac OS X video-editing lab, waiting for Jesse and Debbie to finish. I’m typing this with the editing window open on one Sony Trinitron and my Webmail on another. I still think multi-monitor setups are a bit overrated, but it’s fun to drag windows to the middle so they straddle screens.

“Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.” — Confucius

At a Christmas dinner not so long ago, I dined near a doctor (the neighbor of our hosts.) Following some conversational trail I have long since forgotten, we arrived at the purpose of work. I took the position that it was possible, indeed it was nigh imperative, that one find work that was fulfilling and satisfying.

The good doctor had a different view. “Work,” he told me, “is what you do so that you can do the things you want to do. That’s why you get paid for it.” He mentioned his toys — a Surburban, ski trips, a second house — and said he kept working so he could enjoy them.

I told him I disagreed. We were in Chicago, so I took an example that was both local and universal. “What about Michael Jordan?” I asked. “Doesn’t he love what he does?” The man — whom by now I was quite glad was not my own M.D. — did not budge even on this obvious point.

This memory returned to me after I again viewed The War Room, a behind-the-scenes documentary of the 1992 Clinton race perfect for political junkies like myself. In one scene that some have called the “emotional heart” of the movie, a very moved James Carville rises and says:

There’s a simple doctrine. Outside of a person’s love, the most sacred thing that they can give is their labor. And somehow or another along the way we tend to forget that. Labor is a very precious thing that you have and any time that you can combine labor with love, you’ve made a merger.

It is my hope that I and those I care about can effect such a merger and gain joy from it.

I like this guy‘s style. (I guessed ‘never leaves town.’) Not a bad site either.

Hmm, the heat fixit guy is here.

It’s cold out there.

No, really. TWC reports 15°F, and with windchill (“feels like”) 1°F. This is Brandon-approved weather.

It’s hot in here.

No, really. My thermostat is set at 68°F, and it’s reading 84°F. No joke. Last night, I slept without a comforter or even a top sheet.

The guys are supposed to come fix it today. (Of course I wanted to take a nap.)

Yesterday when I paged through the residents of my building, I was a bit surprised to see the strong international presence. (My friend Ashish: “Your building’s the U.N.!”) I was even more surprised to learn my next-door neighbor, whom I’ve never actually seen, is a guy who lived on my floor sophomore year.

But there were more surprises.

There’s a girl who often leans on the exterior wall near the building’s north door, smoking. We’re always cordial to each other in the “How are you?” generic fashion. Finally I decided to take the next step.

– I: “Hey, how are you?”
– She: “Fine, you?”
– “Good. My name’s John, by the way.”
– “I’m Sara.”
(some generic chatting, and then:)
– She: “Yeah, my boyfriend said he was your roommate his freshman year.”
– “What? No way.”
– “Yeah, his name’s Bill.”
– “Bill ——? From Omaha?”
– “Yep.”
– “Wow. Crazy. How did you find that out?”
– “You were coming back and we were leaving, and he saw you and said, ‘That guy was my roommate freshman year.’ I said I see you all the time.”

If that’s not enough, then I made the classy move of calling his previous girlfriend a bitch. I know it ain’t nice, but she called him every freaking day at 11 to ask the same question (“Are we going to lunch?”) and get the same answer (“I’m on my way over.”) At least I had the good sense not to ask “So, is he still a porn fiend?”

The site continues to entertain international visitors. Through yesterday, people from 44 countries, from Argentina to the UK, had stopped by (presumably briefly.)

More surprising, I discovered even my building has a real international contingent. In its less than 20 apartments, natives of India, Hong Kong, Kuwait, UAE, and South Korea can be found. Vive la difference!

Update: Check out the Self-Stroking Ego International Visitors List for a more current count.