How quickly things change

Now i want to apologize in advance to any if this post offends. Especially to those who are eating while web surfing, which you shouldn't be doing in the first place, especially cause then your keyboard is going to get all oily and i don't want to borrow anyone's grimy ass keyboard. Anyways, today i picked one big bugga as i was crossing the street, cause that's how we roll here, and i could suddenly breath sooooo much better, like mountain top fresh air status. it must have been lodged there for a couple days cause i haven't felt this much inhalability for a while. You cannot even imagine how the light shone through my left nostril. I've found the light!! Anyways, more on ian's weird self therapy to come.

It's raining in Delhi

and i feel somewhere in between a root nestled in the soft dirt, rigidly but gracefully soaking in the whispering rains that gently scratch the earth, and a pile of cow shit getting splattered around on the street, longing for the warm comfort of a body as it grudgingly blends into the oblivion of pavement decorated with other cast asides, used and discarded by a society that's forgotten its tracks were for moving souls and not steamrolling past console.

Lemme explain.

My 23rd March of my life physically was nomadic, as a Fulbright conference, travels with my dad and travels with my friend from Middle and High school chaperoned me around India. Emotionally, i've been an environmental hazard cause i've been travelling between the polar extremes, excessively and egregiously. Spiritually, i feel like a 3D puzzle that was once carefully assembled but since dismantled by fate's chance wrecking ball, lays scattered on a table, purposely sprawled out over meaninglessness.

Still doesn't make sense?? Lemme explain some more.

My March is still deliberating whether to call itself Melancholy March or March Good Moods. To be able to travel with friends and family, with those that nurtured you and have seen you grow is a blessing; (bonus points for well place semicolon!) to be able to share your life honestly and proudly with those you love spreads satisfying soft ripples of warmth through your body. I admit that i sometimes forget to stop and smell the beauty that abounds and patiently waits for appreciation; to consciously wake up every morning and make a decision to love myself and others; to lovingly embrace the luck of being born and being present here and now on earth and being able to journey through these fleeting moments of the divine with those that i love and care about. My dad, mark, and friend, yukari, were simultaneously gracefully placed post-its and relentless booted kicks to the shin that reminded me of the ever present peace that we too often deprive our selves of. nevertheless, in that small comfort of the hermit's shell, i still can't hide the fact that i feel like i'm in a perpetual state of hanging over the precipice of drowning in my own breath.

it seems that my relationship with Yuko that started 7 years ago has come to an abrupt halt. apparently my mind is as blind as my eyes cause I had no sense of it coming, and all that remains is a failed table cloth trick where the table cloth that adorned and gently bebedded all my dishes was taken away and everything on top spilled, spoiled, smashed and scattered. It's something that breaks the heart but doesn't register in the mind. Such a weird feeling of believing in something to be so robust and solid that it could never end and one day reading an email that it just all crumbled... i guess i just got wall streeted, but at least i'm trendy, and it matches well with my trendy new thick framed glasses with Rhine stones in 'em.

It's also weird for me to write this in the blog, because usually i'm pretty private, but it was such a defining character of mine, and i don't feel like the same person. well i'm not. she was the thread that bound together my fractured and fragmented self, creating patchwork that no one else could. She made me whole and let me always be "it" to her ini mino mini mo. if i was anpanman, who's a japanese hero made of sweet bean bread, i totally feel like someone took a huge piece off and put it in the toaster and burnt it. what a waste... also, last night i had a dream that some bug was eating through my face and left a tunnel about the size of a pencil through my face. it was really bizarre and i didn't quite understand it, but maybe it meant that i've lost a piece of myself, and i have, and peace seems further away than ever.

so at current i feel completely distanced and abandoned from all that i care about. my work hasn't felt that meaningful, more than just my love, my life passion, my life soundtrack has gone silent and i've lost the rhythm of my life as each beat dully merges with the next. i've always tried hard to push myself but i'm really a timid, shy person and the only reason i've been able to accomplish what i have is because i knew that even if i fail at everything, i will still be important for one person and that gave me courage. Now i'm scared to open the door and let uncertainty come crashing in. Being in a foreign country with minimal social networks doesn't help either. confusion would be an understatement. my future just seems so uncertain, and i'm lost in a ocean with my anchor hopelessly lodge itself into the past. at current i'ma thinking of finishing my fulbright in mid-May, which would accomplish the minimum sixth months for resume purposes:) and head back home for a month for some soul searching b4 heading back to LA for some hardcore organizing, and reorganizing of my life...

for now, i guess i just gotta put on some Bobby M and put on my pants one leg at a time. It's a really dizzying moment because i really just experienced two extremes; simple and joyful happiness of exploring and journeying through unknown alleys and trails with those you love, and losing faith in the state of happiness through loss of one's love. I don't know how to express it properly but i really did depend on that person and to come back to you your room and realize it's completely empty is a heart freezing moment. i guess i just have to keep oning, believing in merrier days but right now it just feels like a test, and even if i pull an all nighter i feel like i'm going to fail. red bull, thy name is unsalvageability. so with the sweet taste that lingers in my mouth, i'll just have to accommodate the bitterness, and bittersweet talk my way to new days.

Nevertheless, here are some photos of good times at good places with good faces. even if my breath feels suffocating, hopefully time will liberate me...

From Ellora caves. Religious caves just carved out from mountains... Amazing devotion.















More carved caves from Ajant. Made over a period of a 1000 or years. I also went to the Taj Mahal but this was way amazing because it was no added resources. Just devotional crafts men and their hammer and chisel. And of course, my beautiful, hilarious and intelligent friend yukari. best travel companion in times of rough seas and in those of jumpy fun!

Me, my dad and my two aunties that constantly pet my head and call me "very nice boy." when i first arrived in the city, knowing no one and unable to navigate the foreign surrounding, they healed my soul with their 25 rupee (50 cents?!?!) all you can eat meals in their house. despite all our travels, ultimately i think we had the best time experiencing and sharing together a part of my life here in delhi, and that was a timeless experience.

I know everything is going to be okay, but sometimes it just feels more natural to soak in the hurt. But i'll be feeling that happy loving magic again soon i know.

Mama Said Knock You Out

Pa-Pah-ra-ra-pah paaaaaw! Wiki wiki. Mic check one two one two, somebody’s gotta help me tie my shoe! So after a somewhat prolonged typical ian MICA(missing in cyber action) I’m back! Which randomly made me think of this dude who I play pick up ultimate Frisbee here in delhi who likes to say “Don’t call it a come back!” which I’m assuming is from LL Cool J. But he could not be further from the truth as he makes me think more of a scraggly guy with a vaguely aussie accent with a parrot on crutches perched on his shoulder who you encounter on a deserted island that you’ve drifted ashore after your plane pulls a Hudson. Anyways, so yes, I’m back. And I will now start rockin my peers and puttin suckas in fear, that is to say, I’m going to knock you out (huuuuuh).
So as promised, here is the lowdown on one aspect of my life that perhaps I should put higherup on Ian’s ever expanding hierarchy of to-dos and don’ts. Speaking of hierarchies and going on a tangent about psychology, and then segueing into a conversation of psychology and names that end in lov(maslov to Pavlov) there’s this food called momos, which is like a Tibetan dumpling that’s sold on the street everywhere and makes me salivate itchily just by seeing the red stalls. And I think to myyyseeelf(in the ending of “what a wonderful world style”) “Pavlov I feel you dog.”

I think I will begin this journey with what I’ve been doing and then transfer lines to what I’ve started doing and finally get off at what the next 6 months will potentially, but in reality most likely not, have in bazaar stall for me. Shall we?

Up to now the best way to characterize what I’ve been doing is making a pretty useless general statement of trying to get a foot hold in this ever changing landscape. But more concretely, I’ve been coming to the Navdanya office everyday and been doing random text fidgeting, preparation of some distribution material, website dusting and polishing and just all around all superstar level nodding and smiling at things I don’t really understand. In terms of the different atmosphere interns occupy in the world, I think I’m in the useful-enough-to-merit-the-seat-in-the-office-o-sphere. Usually what happens is V shiva comes in and tells me something that needs to be done, I smile and say yes, yes without really understanding, and two weeks later I finally produce the paragraph or print out that was required. But hold thy judgment Dredd. Considering that I have a task completion rate of .330, I am basically the Ichiro of the office (by right of batting average and not ethnicity that is (though the two may be inseparable)) and I am quite happy to bestow that title upon myself any day. But that is old news and but a shedded ian yesteryear. Today I am electric sliding to new horizons.

The new me, well actually the new me is currently trying to break through the 70% burden the old me left me, but in theory the new me is starting to rock at life and is starting his research project… finally(gasp!). What I hope to begin is a joint project of researching the political and social implications of different agricultural solutions to climate change by doing a comparison of traditional agricultural knowledge vs genetic engineering (or technofixes). This topic is significant because…

Navdanya, the organization I volunteer at, is going to build a campaign against seed companies and the 100s of “climate ready gene” patents that they have been stock piling. The challenge is that there is no inventive step in genetically modified organisms and does not improve upon the seed varieties that farmer’s have conserved for thousands of years, and the proliferation of GMOs go hand in hand with encroachment of intellectual property rights to new areas. This trespassing of IPRs and the privatization of seeds effectively represents the newest enclosure of the commons and would have grave implications to small scale farmers, thus to huge percentage of the world. So I would doing some interesting research work that may prove of use to someone outside of myself, AAaand satisfy my existential dilemma here, all the while being useful to the organization and hopefully in some miniscule karmic way, the world. So that is that my friends.

PS this took so long to enter, partly because I wanted to somehow inconscpicuously get a photo with V Shiva but couldn’t get the timing right. So I told her we should make a web page advertising for volunteers and need some photos. Cha-cha chiiiing.









Ian rockin the office clothes in an office setting. Did I hear a “Navdanya, how may I help you?” Wha Whaaaat. And can i hear a, "Sorry i don't speak hindi."

PPS The other day I realized I have a huge back log of ideas and front log of internal soliloquies, but the question now is how do I carpenter a cabin to house these thoughts.

PPPS just for the sake of FYIing, a lot of times, in fact pretty much all of my PSs are products of random inspirations and never actually written post script. Does this make me a liar? Well the latins weren’t the most truthful folk anyways so huuuh. It’s kind of like footnotes, but only PSing it. Like my guru says, Don’t BS, just PS.

In hopes of peace

I wanted to write something about Palestine but did not know how to start. Now the most recent Israeli aggression has stopped for the moment. Not directly connected, I’ve also learned a friend has passed away. Perhaps there’s really no way to sensitively, respectfully and sensibly broach the subject. More so than anything, I am filled with feelings of sadness and just a sense of feeling sorry. Not to someone or for something, but because bearing the hurt of the loss of a loved one, those that help us be and keep us standing, seems like an impossible task to undergo and for anyone to have to go through that is a throbbing thought, and I feel sorry that the world is so. To die before your parents, or to die in the face of injustices ugly look is not meant to be. During these times the sun only reinforces what is missing, and the moon obscures what is beautiful. However, I know as loved ones are torn away from my world, I can only give more to others and to truly cherish the relationships as fully as I can inhale, not because one day these relationships too may go, but because they are the language through which my life becomes meaningful. And the ones who have left us for now, your memories will grow old with us and our relationships will mature until we too are no more and become but a part of the train of history that arrives in the future.

I added a poem to fill the spaces I cannot reach.

Touched by an Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Maya Angelou

I have a shiny new year? Do you?

Given the calamitous conditions we face in '09, where multiple crises, environmental, economic, political and social, are rumored for a dynamic collaboration to release epic havoc, I think it is my responsibility to not only sacrifice personal needs by foregoing the much cherished act of new year resolutions (look where it's got us so far) but also by buckling down and uping up the ante by launching new year revolutions, which apparently was also a professional wrestling show on pay-per-view: that's some stiff competition to match.

So I guess mine aren't very specific, original or new, which has me wondering why I'm even bothering, but in moments of hesitation I console my brittle soul that just writing things out helps me remember and once it's out in the public I japanesely feel that people will be judging me for not honoring my words, and I would feel unparalleled shame. So allow me to invite you to unwillingly participate in my Japanese psychological games. All you have to do is have me believe that you've read this, which basically means I already do, like it or not, cause the potential is already there and that is all that matters. So here they are, my fab 6.

1. Meet all encounters with a smile. Disarm 'em with a smile then take their money and run.

1. Stop fearing and hating and initiate some TLCing. Life would be so much easier and less stressful to love people then fearing and hating them. That doesn't mean I can't dislike or grumble about people though. That's my constitutional right.

1. Appreciate people's unique spices they provide. Gotta keep yo life zesty and flavorful, or you'll end up eating corn bread all the time.

1. Overcome dread of art and explore my inner free bird. When I was a camp counselor at an English summer camp in Japan, one of the 3rd graders told me my drawings sucks. Well kid, your drawings and English sucked, so ha.

1. Nurture and take care of relationships. I really have to work on this. It dawned on me that I've never intentionally tried this before so it's definitely a mixed batch of fresh baked croissants, but I loooovveeee what I'm smelling.

1. Get some real skillz. I get a discouraging insight into the emo psyche when thinking about what little I can actually "do" despite all those years spent "learning"… But I will survive.

6 is a good number right? That means I can dedicate two months to each one and promptly forget the old ones. Plus Jimi says if 6 turned out to be 9 he doesn't mind, so if Jimi doesn’t mind neither do I, and thus 6 is good enough for me in '09.

But before I mosey along '09 any farther, I want to pause and reflect for roughly 47 seconds. A plant does not grow because you put the seed in the soil; well it kind of does, but the thousands of years of death and decay that enriches the soil creates the fertile bed upon which new life springs. Thus it is my moral responsibility to provide context and reconnect with my past achievements of '08, which are now dead, but won't be forgotten.

1. First and foremost, graduating from college was major success. I don't want to say I was unhappy at Pomona, but oh what elation fills the sky when I do a post-Pomona banzai.
2. For pretty much the first time in my life I had a period of no direction and immediate plans for the future, which is good and bad but I appreciated the time to muse and allow for things to fall into place, rather than forcing.
3. Took part, and hopefully contributed, in an amazing grassroots, anti-racist, civil rights, multiracial campaign against racist, homophobic, patriarchic and regressive propositions in California. The struggle is where my future awaits.
4. Got a Fulbright to work with V Shivaaa. That's pretty sweet. Sweet like the organic small farm honey that we sell for 500 rupees.
5. Bought cool elephant bed sheets. I messed up at first and bought a boring blanket with dull orange and brown colors, but now I've redeemed my bed through herding an elephant parade home. It's kind of like a half burnt sandwich now: the top sandwich is all charcoalry but the bottom sandwich, the foundation if you will, and oh you will, is a fine golden brown.
6. Discovered and rediscovered, connected and re-connected with some amazing beings who have really given me a sense of direction and fittingness.

So voila, there it is. . Or in Japanese ho---re yo.

I've got a feeling that '09 will be a trying time but will also be oh so fine.

PS I feel like I should write a tad about what I'm actually supposed to be doing so tune in next week for some substance from Ian for a change! Maybe with an added bonus of more graphics and less text!

PPS Also, also, also, though not quite as resolutionary status as it’s a mere continuation, I would like to be everything others, but especially yuko;), want me to be for them, and really refine my Osakan spirit.

cha cha chai ching!

Phew. I promised myself to quickly a quick re-entry after the previous one just for kosher reasons, but alas I have failed to meet my modest expectations yet again. I think I may develop an inferior complex towards myself for not even meeting my babiest steps of generally steps of goals. however, i was saved when i ran into a quote when dictionarying a word: To err is human, to forgive divine. That's fresh.

So although slightly outdated, I wanted to talk about my week of teas. This was two weeks ago, so I hereby declare, in my miniature universe with a 2 km radius, the second week of December as the week of tea.

It started on the 11th. After returning from a two-week course on Gandhi and Globalization on the toe nails of the Himalayas, I was embraced harshly by the empty smell of the dusty stale air of my apartment room. The place gets no sunlight or fresh air and the only visitors are dust, cockroaches and the confederate depressive elements all stars. The American philanthropist that I am, I resolved that some good will Chai tea is what was needed to bring light to this gloomy corner of my room. Chai is sold everywhere here, in the hotels, restaurants, the streets, sidewalks and alleys. If such a ubiquitous tribute to the small beauties of the world is not present in my house, of course there will no justice nor peace. The revelation was brutally simple, the execution gently terrifying.

As much as I consider myself a nominally experienced person with occasional sparkles of boldness, without the community backbone buttressing my jello legs, my timid snail element shells me over and subsequently snails me over. being timid makes things hard, but being an awfully persnickety (don't really know what it means, but had to use it cause it sounds so, so, fine...) yet apprehensive consumer makes brewing something as simple as tea something akin to trekking through the himalayas to get to the tea gardens. Especially when one, whether for spiritual reasons or for rupee-pinching reasons, insists on entering into consumer relationships with products not that I choose, but rather chooses me; never happens with mundane things like strainers. In short, and in consideration that my writings are too long, I needed to get my ass to some stores and I was scared to do so

Due to some ethnic ambiguity i am not sure how i am perceived nor if anyone is actually looking, but when i'm navigating through the chaotic narrow alleys i feel like i stand out like an egg plant burrowing among potatoes. I sense the looming buildings and all the chilling cows gossip to each other and see through me as if i were transparent. Most of this is due to my fear and as a result a projection of my own inner insecurities, but whatever the rational thought may and should be, leaving the room sometimes feels like embarking upon a tiathlon. additionally, because of crazy urbanization i haven't been able to create a coherent cognitive map of my area so i get lost all the time and have absolutely no clue where anything is. everything pointed towards a very bad brew that smelled only of disaster.

This is getting long so i won't go into more details, because it's pretty much i just went to stores and bought things without my fear of being gobbled up by the city materializing. But i almost did give up, and i heard the referee counting to 9 before i got up again and fought it out like a true American Rocky-esque fashion. in fact after i initially mustered the courage to set my right foot over the door-sill, i immediately got lost, ran into an alley where goats and chickens were being slaughtered (literally), found potential stores but felt too awkward/scared to enter, and decided that i had to retreat and regroup. i then asked myself, 10 years from now will i be able to look myself in the mirror for running away from this trial? and so i set out once again and methodically made purchase after purchase until i was drinking my trophy tea triumphantly in my room. Just for a reference to how historic this was, i think armstrong setting foot on the moon has nothing on me except his cool space boots. you had to be there to feel it cause i don't know what was in that tea but i flew to the moon.

That was the first part of tea week (yes there's more...). the following day i received an invitation from Fulbright foundation to have High tea at the Imperial hotel with the director or peope high up in the department of education or something like that. This tea was effortless, and probably cost more than how much it'll cost me to drink tea for a month. i will most likely never be able to afford, or at least if not for financial reasons then for emotional and moral reasons, to go there again. But it did highlight how with position, privilege and connections i easily gained access to what in a credentialist society is more valuable, whereas my little adventure was spiritually and physically lot more satisfying and soothing, as well as much more tasty, but meaningful pretty much only to me. The week revealed exactly how privileged i was to be in this program and the Imperial hotel was a fitting site because without power acquired through imperialism and exploitation that hotel wouldn't have existed and i would not have took part in it, because i was born into a position where i can surf the waves of history, while others were and are drowned in it, and it could have easily been the other way around.

All and all a very humbling experience and reveals the courageousness of many immigrants who are able to make ends meet despite the everyday paralyzing forces that abound, especially in xenophobic racist, self righteous countries. Finally, simply and plainly it made me realize how much i miss my community and my people and people with whom i can share a nice cup of tea.

Eggy Burps, Bubbley Ears and Jet-Stream ejections

I'm back! After two weeks at a course titled "Gandhi and Globalization" I'm back in Delhi and trying to scramble to knit together a coherent life in this very chaotic city.

So i feel somewhat awkward about making this my second entry but i have a couple of inspirations a.k.a. malfunctioning frontal lobe that entertains bad ideas not even remotely worth pursuing as tappable. I am writing about this A. because it was a desolate and solitary sojourn into the unknown and i must process communally :) B. someone once said a writer's task is to find the universal in the most mundane, therefore if i can find some universal truth other than the fact that getting sick sucks i will feel pretty good about myself C. i fortunately, but really most unfortunately, have at least 8 months till i see most of you so by the time you see me this entry will be long lost in the cracks of cyberspace where the cockroach reigns supreme D. i've thought about this enough to make me feel like execution is the only remaining option. Plus i've made a journal entry and trying to emulate Gandhi, i would like to live such an honest life where i am proud to share everything in my life, even those that some would share only to a journal, because my life is my example and what i want all of us to be. Plus i already made a jounal entry in my lovely pink journal that nicole gave me and so to desecrate that holy institution and leave the blogsphere unsullied would be sacreligious in a eating Mcdonalds in India kind of way, and i nor do you want me to become such a creature that so the only alternative that remains is to invite you to hitch a ride with me to the most hidden exciting crevices of the toilet stall.

Mid letter PS. Sometimes i feel like stupid endeavors are better done without disclaimers becuase rationalizing spontaneous stupidity really just surrenders the best excuse ever, which is "i did it cause i felt like doing it." hmm...

Eggy Burps, Bubbly Ears and Jetstreams of semi-processed food that initially seemed like a superb idea to stuff into my mouth, my time in india is off to a great start! So just as one has to travel through customs to get into a country, i have passed the second inevitable hallmark gateway of digestive-dissonance. In retrospect, having passed the most turbulent of times, I feel all i am left with is 4 pounds less body weight and the gift of being able to say "it had to happen at some point" and, and, and a, er, i guess that's really it. There really is no valuable insights to be had at 5 AM on a freezing toilet seat except an appreciation for the functioning body, which is sort of the bare minimum of what i expect for it as long as it serves as my carnal vessel, and given that i have not been equipped with Carl Lewis or Aretha Franklin type skills, i will unremorsely take advantage and take for granted (no matter how shameful this seems my spiritual development has not yet reached a stage of unconditional love and appreciation of my body) of the blessings i have been given.

Some journies reveal people's inner strength to overcome the impossible, others show the immeasurable wealth we all have and share inside, mine is neither adventurous, heroic, touching or epic, well maybe sort of epic in that at the time i kind indentified with Frodo in that only Frodo and I can understand kind of way, but basically the only adjective it merrited was frequent.

Day 1, T minus 7 hours (I'm using this format so time and experience can be conflated for your convenience)
I would have liked to start where the actual volcanic substance was consumed but as the suspect is unidentifiable at this point in time as every food in unfamiliar territories appear to have the potential to be a triumphant success or a disastrous failure, i begin my story somewhat arbitrarily. Pre-Bed, the coast is beautifully clear with stars glimmering above, and the moon shining so gently on my slightly dust covered skin. Stomach feels pressingly full but not quite i should be concerned level, thus all signals indicate normality. Ian proceeds to sleep, expecting another night of joyous night of silence and peace.

Day 2. 5 AM. The moment of truth where one must face the consequences of one's decisions. Subject, i.e. me, has been owned by what he presumptuously thought could be swallowed without harm. Feelings of queasiness, perception of moisture down under, subject immediately recognizes the gravity of situation and curses the heavens for the bestowal of such an unfortunate fate. After coercing the body to shove aside the blankets of slumber, he trudges to the stall where one usually leaves with a feeling of refreshment and rejuvanation, but now a max security prison where recividism is so high he knows he can escape for a bit but will return every so often because our parole system sucks and california just made it worse with Prop 9. Thanks you all.

From here time ceases to exist as every second in the sinisterly lit stall lasts for an eternity and every motion is repeated repeatedly. What really made process exponentially eternal, though, was the accompaniment of the eggy burps. oh yeah, not to leave out the bubbley ear which was a dagger in the heart. When i started feeling bubbles in my ear, because i properly couldn't adjust to the air pressure, my only thought was "ear you have nothing to do with this, stay out. You get enough action so stay out of this one. You nosey punk." But the eggy burps, i will most remember the eggy burps, in fact i remember it like it was only yesterday. i think they're basically very acidic belches but i'm not really sure. it just tastes really really bad and smells terrible in the mouth. The worst though is unlike flatulation which is pefectly designed to impact others, especially those behind, the burp is perfectly positioned to affect mainly you and only you. So everytime i had one of these i had to A. Quickly duck under my covers and B. widely flap my blanket in hopes that the smell would disperse, so the toxicity could be suffered equally between me and my room mate. Interestingly i only have gotten these in Ecuador two times and never before nor after. at the time i thought i had narrowed the culprit down to one fruit so when i first tasted this smell i thought i would never have to literally face again, i felt a sense of betrayal that there is another assasin out in the vegetble/fruit kingdom trying to get me. As i shared with my dad i had a Cesarian moment where i uttered or perhaps muttered the words "Et tu Brutas?" because i thought it was only one rebelious fruit in the kingdom but in fact there were more that were out to get me. what treachery...

Ultimately it was only two days-ish so wasn't a big deal but it was pretty miserable. Through this simple entry i hope you have been able to commiserate with me and realize that this research grant isn't simply just about free money. It involves jumping, ducking and battling through putrid smells...

PS hopefully next entry will have more substance