Sometimes when my computer freezes and I have to hard reboot it, I get the option to start it "Safe Mode." Basically, (as I'm sure most of you know) safe mode lets the computer start with only the essential parts running. When malware or corrupted files or poorly formatted software hinder your computer's performance, starting it up in safe mode kind of chokes off the nuisances. Safe mode keeps extraneous programs and features from engaging so that the computer will work--and be subject to the junk that disrupts it.

I want to live in safe mode.

It would be nice, sometimes, to turn off all the little "extras" that make unpleasant at times. I'm sure it would mean limited functionality. I'm also sure that I wouldn't mind. It's all the extra functions in life that stress me the most: social pressures, others' expectations, inner tensions about ambitions, social situations, etc. For me, these stressors--some internal and some external--are the source of disquietude. From them, the unfortunate effects of malware and defects flow, coloring my life an icky shade of defunct.

I would gladly give them up if I thought that they would make life a little less troublesome. Yet, there's the rub.

There's an elegance in the notion of a simple life. The hard part about it is giving up the things that we think we need. Discerning the difference is key...and nearly impossible. If only we had the option every morning to determine which systems we would have to use that day! If only...

I keep trying to find the button on me that turns off everything except what is absolutely essential, what I need to keep going, the bare minimum of systems that I need to employ. That button is not my belly button, it's not behind my ears, nor is it pulling any particular sequence of toes. I've concluded that if such a button exists, it's not externally accessible.It must be inside...somewhere.

What would you shed if you could start in "safe mode"?

Although I typically do most of my whining here, there have been some positive developments lately that are worth sharing. They're not big by individually; but taken together, they have a very positive effect.

1. I was successful in finding a roommate. So far, things seem to be going well. He's not around a whole lot, so I can't complain. So, I can look forward to an overall reduction in my utilities cost, which will be nice. It's always good to save where you can.

2. There was leftover cake at school AND there was a taco truck--Lola Loca--on my walk back home. Let's just say I had a DELICIOUS "taco'dilla." It looked basically like a slightly larger, semi-crispy taco. It was good, though. THEN, when I got home, there was pecan pie. Today wasn't about good food choices, but it was still good.

3. I was selected to be part of a pro-bono volunteer team for spring break. While it's to Corpus like I wanted, there was some space in another team under the auspices of the same group that's conducting the first team. The best part about this (you know aside from helping those who really need it, contributing to society and all that), is that it will be an excellent addition to my resume. It's rather weak right now.

4. I found a partner for Practice Court. Since I have a partner now, I'm not as torn about taking it next quarter (otherwise I'd have to wait until the fall and I couldn't graduate until Spring 2014). If everything goes according to plan, I should be able to graduate about November of this year, which while still 10 months away, is quickly approaching!

5. The shuttles have started running again so I don't have to walk all the way to school in the morning.

6. I have a triple session of individual tax tomorrow--but there will be brownies or cupcakes or something delicious. If you have to talk about tax deductions and disallowances, you might as well have a brownie, right?

7. I've made some progress toward eating more healthily. It's mostly in the realm of substitutions. I've discovered that I can replace sour cream and ice cream with yogurt for most things, which takes off a little in the way of fat and calories. I've also been eating cabbage: it's versatility is rivaled only by is affordability!

8. My new food processor, vacuum cleaner, and mattress topper work well. It's really nice when things just do what they're supposed to do.

9. I applied for an internship at the WTO. It seems a little weird that I applied, and the chance of getting it is really low. Still, I'm glad that I did it. I speak all the languages they want; I'm still a student; it would look killer on a resume--especially if I want to do international transactional stuff. There's a per diem reimbursement--which is especially great if I can stay with my sister for the duration of the internship and just pocket the money.

I think that's enough for now. What little things are you glad for today?

Sometimes, when I know I should be doing my homework, I cook instead. There's something about chopping, dicing, searing, boiling, steaming, or roasting that is very satisfying. It's probably because all these things are terribly VIOLENT. Yet, they make everything so tasty. It's probably the stress relief.

It's in these I-really-should-be-doing-something-else moments that I feel the most adventuresome and creative. A couple days ago, for instance, I made a stir fry out of some leftover lemon-lime soda and corn starch. It was pretty good! It was also in this mentality that I added a little honey to my chicken tortilla soup, which, while not bad, is not something that I'll do again. Also, yesterday I think I made hummus the way I (basically) will the rest of my life. So, that's an accomplishment...even if I don't quite understand the marital deduction vis-a-vis community property and partitions by operation of law.

But of all the activities one can undertake to procrastinate, why all the food prep? Why not something more exciting? I think the answer to that question is twofold: 1. I'm not exciting. (But what I eat sure can be!) 2. At some point I'll have to eat, so it's not a complete waste of time.

Anyway, I have a lot of taxing homework to get done (it's funny because I'm in three 1/2 tax or impost classes currently). However, I find myself overcome with the urge to perfect arrabbiata sauce. Hmmm...what to do.

Last night...was Friday. (gasps!)

Typically on Friday nights there are certain things I like to do. Primarily, I like to clean the floors (mop if necessary), vacuum the stairs, and iron my clothes. Since at Christmas I got a fancy new vacuum (that is WAY more sophisticated than I am), and a garment steamer, these tasks combined took about an hour--basically, I was done by 6:00.

It's not Apple's latest product...it's just how I would describe the way I go about my life: I Bumble.

The other day, I decided to go to the grocery store. It's only a block away and I normally walk. This time, however, my purchases were much more than my usual tote bag could carry. My grocery bag tore open while I was walking back from the grocery store...and all my cans of chicken stock fell to the ground. The ground was actually a road because I was crossing the street at the time. I tried to scoop the fallen cans and place them in the already-overloaded tote...but they fell out as soon as I took the next time. And by that time, the tote bag had shifted and was digging painfully into my skin. I had to leave the stock. I made it home, put away my other groceries, and then return to the side of the road to collect them. It was a little embarrassing...and more than a little clumsy.

Stumbling and bumbling around is a common theme in my life. I'm aware that I maladroitly navigate most human-interactive channels....and apparently the car-traveling channels as well! At times it's frustrating, most of the time it's endearing. But it's always part of who I am. Pero, no me aguito por eso, c'est la vie.

In fact, this "bumbleness" was an unfortunate characteristic of my Xangacide. I didn't go about it the best way possible. And in the process, I may have worried some Xanga users and alienated others. There's been a brief buzz about closing Xanga accounts of late; and since I have gone through one, I thought that I'd opine on the subject.So, what follows is first a brief history of my Xanga experience which concludes with some final remarks about Xangacide that I wish I had known earlier.

First, a public confession: I used to be yertmax6680. Really, that means nothing now. I shut down my account in 2009 after having used it for a little more than four years. Under that user name, I found a corner of Xanga where I enjoyed interacting with certain Xangans and I really enjoyed the exposure to all the different kinds of people I was "meeting" there.

Xanga in 2009 was a slightly different place than it is now: the -ish sites were the frequent source of much controversy (should they exist, they're bullying out the good writers, etc.); meet-ups weren't as commonplace an event; and of course, the Xanga "royalty" was a little different...Although, as I'm sure y'all are all (it's okay, I can say things like "y'all are all" and "all y'all"--I'm from Texas) aware, there are some long-enduring dynasties.

In March of 2009 I was in personal crisis. I was about to undertake my second collegiate transfer in less than a year. I was TERRIBLE at being a college student. I had no idea what I wanted (that one's still not worked all the way out) and I felt tremendous pressure to hit every reset button in my life that I could. I was worried that if I kept my Xanga around, the weightiness of the ghosts I harbored here was only harmful. So, one day, I killed my Xanga. I say "kill" because it was a little more impulsive than a simple "shut down" suggests.

I was away from Xanga for about a year. In that time, I like to say that there was a radical transformation and that I accomplished everything that I hoped to in being away. That's not quite the case. There were some personal victories, but that certain wasn't the dominant theme of that period. All in all, I quickly discovered that, while the shut down was necessary, I still missed Xanga a little...there's a layer of community here that I can't/don't/won't access IRL.

I restarted a Xanga account in early 2010 under this username. Since then, I've rediscovered some of the Xangans I really enjoyed following before. Some of them stopped blogging. Others changed usernames. Some changed blogging platforms. But, I found that I was able to rebuild a little of what I missed. That also felt like an accomplishment.

So, now, the part where I sound like d-bag for telling you how to operate your blog. I tried to keep it short.

1. Be decisive. The decision about whether to continue operating your Xanga is strictly yours. No one else can tell you whether it's good for you right now, whether you'll miss all the memories you've worked at creating here, or whether you're just at a point in your life where you need a fresh start. This isn't the type of topic that becomes clearer through a public blog and comment. If you really don't know...you know.

2. Let others know. I found that one of the worst things you can do is to simply drop off the face of Xanga. It can make people worry--and no one deserves that. My recommendation is to post a final entry that gives notice to your readers and explains why you think it's good for you. Be emphatic, but let the entry linger for a while--maybe a week or two. This gives other the chance to bid you adieu.

3. Save important entries! Even though killing my Xanga was probably the best thing I could have done, it still bums me out sometimes that I effectively erased four years--and probably four of the most formative years--of my life (from 16-20 years old). For me, there were some things that REALLY needed to disappear. Other things though were just funny and probably the purest expression of my sense of humor...now, those are lost.

4. Leave contact information. If you've established a particularly strong rapport with certain Xangans, message them your e-mail address so they can interact with you if something particularly interesting or pressing comes up that might concern you. Just because you're leaving Xanga doesn't mean you're leaving behind the people and relationships you made here.

5. Set a plan for return. Let's face it, there is something inexplicably delightful about the Xangasphere. That's why we're all here. So, if you need a time to make a new start, work through some issues, or just to clear something off your plate for a while, be clear about the WHY so that when that particular "why" passes, you'll be able to come back to where all of us weirdos have a voice that other people listen to. My suggestion is to set a clear goal. For example, "When X happens," or "When I am Y," or "When I no longer have deal with/worry about Z, I will return to Xanga."

So, those are my thoughts on shutting down an account/Xangacide. I hope they were helpful and not too pedantic. Have you ever shut down a Xanga account? Would you do it again? differently?

Slowly, softly, deliberately, I watched my feet march myself one step at a time closer to school today. I was not looking forward to it. There is so much about school that makes me want to run away--screaming madly all the while. It's not what I'm learning, it's not even the workload (although, I'm sure that's part of it)...it's more about who I see on a daily basis and how I can't dump the crazy awkward things that I've done. It bums me out.

Naturally, these matters preoccupied my mind. Sometimes my thoughts strayed, other times I was able to redirect them to the case that I might have presented for Constitutional Law. By and large, though, I was concerned about the re-remembering just how bizarre I am...and how I feel like I never fit anywhere. In effect, I was pre-remembering the things I would certainly re-remember in just a few minutes. The thing is, 90% (or more) of it is me/my fault/me holding myself back. Still, realizing that doesn't make anything more pleasant.

In a lot of ways, law school is WAY more like high school than high school ever was for me. There's pressure to deal with stuff and people on a repeated basis--I  can't just walk away from it. My high school was big. I could very easily slip into a veil of anonymity and disappear. Now, the student body is roughly half the size of my graduating class. At the beginning, I made a conscious effort to be gregarious and meet people. But, that's not who I am, and I eventually yearned for the obscurity that I enjoyed in high school. Back then, it was like I had a superpower; I could be invisible. I miss that. Now, however, people know (both of) my name(s) and there is no innocuous anonymity--it's much more likely that people know me for a reputation, whether good, bad, or awkward, whether it's a firsthand or secondhand experience. I thought I had left all that angsty teen drama stuff in the past. I was wrong...unless I am stuck in the past, a possibility I can't rule out.

The quotation that I've used is as the title is one of my favorite song lyrics, from my favorite musician. What I love about it is how true it is. I'm confident that if I ever learned to fly, my feet would rarely touch the ground. It makes me wonder if my otherwise pedestrian thoughts would become ...Said differently, how would my mind's morning journey change if I flew to school instead of walked.

For one thing, the trip would be shorter. Not only would I be able to take a more-direct route, but flying is also simply faster than walking. There would be less time to think. I think this might be a good thing.

For another thing, I would be able to get more easily distracted because of the greater field of vision. Where trees had blocked my views before, I can see around them, seeing the grid work of the city's plan and the tidy, classical layouts of the buildings on their lots across the university. That's when I think I'd notice a real change in the way I see things. I imagine that I could get above my situation. Just as flying gives me a broader view of what surrounds me, I think that sense of aerial perspective would permeate into my contemplation of myself and circumstances. I'd pretend to be far above me to get a superior view of what's going on.

Finally, I think I'd feel freer and untouchable. When you can fly, it's harder to lock you in. That would be an awesome feeling.

So, even though I can't actually take to the air (despite my best efforts--I just can't seem to get feathers to sprout from my scapulae), I will pretend to soar on the trek to school tomorrow. Maybe the thought exercise will make time fly--even if I can't.

While I was in Spain this summer, I had the chance to visit Sevilla for like a day and half. It was a jam-packed two days, but I managed to get in everything I wanted to do there (except the bull fight!). The highlight, though, was seeing a flamenco show one evening.

After my final exam at the end of the last quarter, I was looking for something special to do to in order to: 1. celebrate the end of the quarter and 2. reward myself for getting through finals. Because I live in Waco, there was nothing going on. But! After a brief check around the intarwebz, I saw that there was a flamenco show in Austin, which is less than a two-hour drive. I arrived just in time to see the show. You can read about the adventures of that evening here.

I meant to do this blog WAY earlier (the second show was at the beginning of November), but never got around to it...Better late than never, right?

Clearly, because these were both flamenco shows, they had many similar elements. The ladies wore the same kind of ruffled dresses, the shows lasted about the same period of time, and the heel click of the shoe on the elevated stage was as much a part of the music as the guitar, an element which I loved. In both shows, the musicians were just as important to the performance as the dancers. Flamenco deals in a certain kind of muscic, often called "sevillanas," named for a city in southern Spain which is the cultural and historical capital of the area. Because of the integration of all these different musical and rhythmic components, flamenco seems to be the most "alive" form of music. I love that.

However, in the distance between Spain and Texas, there is apparently significant room for differentiation. The Spanish show was much richer--the performers exposed the audience to a broader range of experiences. In the Spanish show, there were both male and female dancers. There was even an old lady who stepped forcefully across the stage. There was a constant flow and change among the musicians. There were different lead singers throughout the evening, and the members of the "band" would sing out at different times as well. In fact, when some of the dancers weren't dancing, they would stand with the musicians at the back of the stage and clap along with either the music or the acoustic finesse of the dancer on stage. There was more packed into the Spanish show.

Another key difference was the use of castanets. The Austin show did not use them, and I think the show was a little impotent for it. By contrast, the Sevillian show featured dancers that click-click-clacked their castanets in expert staccato, adding an aural texture that complemented the melodic sounds of the guitar. Since seeing that show, I think that castanets make just about every song better. In fact, they are featured in this pop song by Pualina Rubio (it's all in English, even though she's Mexican).

While I enjoyed both shows, I would be had pressed to say that I enjoyed the local show more. I watched the other one in SPAIN, where the art originated, as performed by people who had been doing this their whole lives. Of course, all that was reflected in the price: I paid 40 euros for admission to the Spanish show. The bar where the Austin show was had a $15 cover. But, by the time I made the drive, the cost of gas probably made the price both shows about equal. What I really gained from the experiences, though, were two enjoyable evening watching experts at a craft perform very well. It's a good thing.

Have you ever seen a flamenco or specialty/folk dancing show? What did you enjoy most about it?

As is typical near the end of December, I was frequently bid "Merry Christmas" or "Peace to you and yours" by Christmas cards. I don't know what "peace" is, other than it's something that I think know I want.

***Disclaimer: too long; don't read UNLESS you're a hardcore word nerd (like me). ***

As I often do with formidable abstractions, I looked it up. Why forge new ground when the history of humanity and its capacity for language may reveal an instructive meaning? Maybe I can find something that pieces my notions of "peace" together.

The history of peace is tied strongly to its martial meaning: a cessation or void of war. In fact, there's an uncanny resemblance between the Latin "pax" and "pactum," which often ended a war, the vestiges of which we still use today when we make pacts or agreements. Our word "peace" came to English through Old French and reflects French's Latin heritage: "pax" to "pais" (Old French) to "pes" (Anglo-French) to "peace." In modern French the word is "paix."

What I find curious is how the Anglo-French word completely displaced the Old English word, "frith" (transliterated spelling--the final sound was the older letter "eth," which sometimes I think we should bring back to the English alphabet, but I digress). This is a gross oversimplification; but, in the English language (generally), things that are necessary and essential to life and society preserve their Germanic roots. This category includes things like: water, heart, food, love, kin, friends, sight, help, etc. I would think tha

So...in trying to understand "peace," my question becomes--what does "peace" embrace that "frith" does not? and why? Why trade in a perfectly good word for another one if there's not a difference in the meaning.

One explanation is that there is no difference in meanings--one just became more popular than the other, especially considering that the scribes who accompanied good ol' Guillaume after the Conquest were better versed in French and Latin than in the language of the rude Anglisch. It's easy to see how the Frenchier version prevailed. But, I find this explanation boring and lazy--even if very plausible. So, I continued looking.

Building on my basic understanding (and how I've used it), I reasoned that peace is the absence of conflict--but not all conflict. (Mild) Conflict and tension are what make life interesting. And, in wanting "peace," people aren't looking for boredom. Rather, they're searching for a certain, dependable level of relative comfort where they can build a life. Still, that understanding is so abstract to be almost entirely devoid of meaning. So, to the Web I went!

In the search I came across this Website. There, it points out that "frith" is related to the words for "free" and "friend," those two being related by the idea that a friend is one with whom another has a free association. The gist of "frith," according to that page, is a friendly obligation to certain others (primarily: kin, lords/leaders, gods, and guildmembers). These relationship existed in peace, not because of any wartime obligations. And here, mayhaps an instructive--if exaggerated--distinction can be made: where "peace" denotes an absence of compulsion (as in war), "frith" indicates the presence of obligations. There, "peace" seems like the broader word, while "frith," the stronger...and more telling.

This, ironically, incited a profound battle within me. I recently decided that I only felt "at peace" when I was alone--and not just alone, but on the verge of loneliness--so that I wasn't worried with/about others. And when that grievous twinge of emptiness lighted within me, I remembered all my clamorous experiences with friendship and "otherness," and knew that loneliness alone-ness is the best I can do. The source of the clamor was my inability to navigate the sea of expectations, obligations, and the like that relationships bring--and the unsettling realization that there is neither map nor GPS to aid the journey. (There may be a variety of compasses, but that's a blog for another day!)

Here, there is a need for reconciliation between these peace-pieces. On the one hand, there's the "Latin" sense--the absence of war, strife, and conflict, which is closer to my own sense of "peace." In the other hand rests the Germanic notion of frith--free association without external compulsion. That association, though, I feel robs me of the peace that I want for my life...

Maybe, to live a peaceful life, one merely needs the ability to choose what stressors touch his or her life. In this sense, the hallmark of peace is choice/control. Not subject to the wiles and grapples and powers of an enemy, there is room for security and refuge and solace in the choices you make. Perhaps peace is the simple, internal acceptance of one's external freedom and realizing the ability to flourish there.

"Peace" in that sense isn't helpful if the perpetual source of turmoil comes from within in you--as is the case with me. But, resolution of that dilemma may turn on the difference between being at peace and being at ease...Idk. Id have the time to look it up either.

Do you have peace in your life? How do you know?

I survived the holidays! Now it's 2013, which should be a big year. If everything goes according to plan, I'll graduate (again) and find a (real) job. Then, I have to start being an actual grown up, but I won't graduate until November, so maybe I can defer adulthood until 2014 when I'll take the bar exam. New goal!

But, it's time to embrace 2013 and everything it brings. So...what to embrace...hmmmmmmmmmm.

Whereas 2012 has been an average year in the scheme of my life, and in order to build on that foundation to make 2013 a substantially better year in light of the further grand events already scheduled to occur in the next twelve months, I have resolved:

1. To come up with a five-year plan: where do I want to be in 2018? Basically, I need to understand what I want from life (the hard part) and design a plan to effect it (the less hard part). I'm really good at planning; I'm really bad at determining goals. Much of my life has been about satisfying obligations and meeting others' expectations that I don't know how to set my own goals. Or maybe other people are better at setting my goals than I am, which is why I haven't done it? Mayhaps I need more resolutions.

2. To begin implementing the five-year plan.

3. To be healthier. I should get my eating habits back under control when I have to buy my own groceries. The hard part will be drinking less soda. I know it's bad: it destroys my death, overloads my sodium intake, and leaches calcium from my bones. If I keep drinking soda at current rates: I will be a osteoperosis-riddled, toothless, salty, fifty-year-old man. Then again, if I accept that that is my fate, I can keep enjoying soda now...

4. To understand. There are a lot of things that I thought I would understand at this point in my life. I do not. It's becoming increasingly apparent that others expect me to understand things about life...but then, this may be me subject to myself to external expectations for failure to have my own. Thinking is a bummer. Qu'est-ce que vous en pensez?

Sometimes  I wish the Mayans were right about the end of the world. Then, I wouldn't have to deal with this.

5. To never stop psyching myself up for the early May premiere of the new season of Arrested Development. Now, I don't know whether I'm more pumped about the return of Community in February (after a ten-month hiatus!) or May when the scheduled 14 episodes of Arrested Development get released to Netflix. I'm so giddy I could vomit.

Those are my resolutions/goals/things I'm anticipating for the new year. What are you most looking forward to this year?

...it's always first thought when I realize that my zipper is down. While this is ordinarily awkward enough, the particular circumstances threw things into awkward overdrive.

One of my classes was canceled today because of a family emergency on the professor's end. So, I had a free hour in my schedule that I don't normally get. I decided to run (I walked, actually) to a nearby fast-food place to get lunch. I hadn't eaten yet and I had a double session of my ConLaw class, so eating was probs a good idea to keep me focused.

I placed my order. Another employee said, "You look like....ohm....ohm....that guy on TV, yunno?" She directed the question to the employee taking my order. The response was a natural, I-have-no-idea-what-you-mean expression. Since the first employee never clarified who I was celebrity-looking-like, I must presume that it's NOT flattering...It's whatevs...and only illustrates of the type of awkward that I attract/create in ordinary life.

While I was waiting for my spicy chicken sandwich, I realized a pressure in my lower torso...Yes. It was potty time. I made up my little "food roost" in the dining area, and went to the bathroom. When I got there, I realized the door wouldn't shut. I don't mean that it wouldn't LOCK. I mean it wouldn't CLOSE. Maybe the foundation shifted, but either the door jamb or the door was off level and the top corner of the door just kind of stopped when it hit the top corner of the door jamb.

A lack of privacy complicates bladder voiding.

Anyway, because I can pee standing up, I decided to chance it. There was only one other lady in the restaurant, so I figured I'd be safe. It takes guys on average like 47 seconds to take care of business, so I figured I'd be good. WRONG.

As soon as I got my fly down, another guy walks in...sees me...and STILL proceeds to go for a tissue. "Dude, I gotta get a tissue to blow my nose. It's been running like crazy." So, we were both in there. Together. With a door that doesn't work. So, any number of other strange men could have walked in just started chillin' there too. This should never happen. I repeat: THIS SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN!

Dumbfounded by the sheer absurdity of two grown men occupying the same single-occupancy public bathroom, I "It's just one of those nose-blowing kind of days," I sputtered--my tone was half way between an interrogative suggestion and an apology. I didn't know what to do. Without having relieved myself--and just decided to skip the entire affair.

On reflecting on those earlier instances, I realized that it was from that point (when I failed to "close shop" in the bathroom) until I had made it to the school bathroom that my "barn door" had been "beckoning the livestock home." So...mystery solved I guess.