My life has culminated to this very moment.

Roger Ebert retweeted me. I'm practically a celebrity now. Soon, I'll be doing hard drugs. I can't wait!

Def Jams

Mos Def - "History" (ft. Talib Kweli) from Downtown Music on Vimeo.

Professor: How many of you are familiar with St. Francis of Assisi?
[A student raises his hand.]
Professor: Ah, finally! A student that studies theology. What can you tell me about him?
Student: He was the naked guy, right?

James F. Masterson in 1993^[17] proposes two categories for pathological narcissism, exhibitionist and closet. Both fail to adequately develop an age- and phase- appropriate self because of defects in the quality of psychological nurturing provided, usually by the mother.

The closet narcissist is more likely to be described as having a deflated, inadequate self perception and greater awareness of emptiness within. ...The closet narcissist seeks constant approval from others and appears similar to the borderline in the need to please others

Source.

Best Oscar Tweets of the Night

"Oh, Sam Worthington, your glasses make me think you're imperfect and therefore accessible."
--Mindy Kaling

"Oprah's about to tell everyone in the audience there's an Oscar under their seat."
--Foster Kamer

"TEXT DUDE TO 11011"
--Foster Kamer

"A guy named T-Bone wins an Oscar, you wanna hear him talk."
--Roger Ebert

"Just got lost for a minute, sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah... Zach Effron's eyes!"
--Rob Corddry

Other things worth mentioning:
- Pedro Almodovar presented the nominees for Best Foreign Language Film, a category in which his film Broken Embraces should have absolutely been nominated.
- When they were announcing Best Director, the "voice" kept pointing out that tonight could produce the first female winner or the first African American winner. I felt like I was watching the 2008 Democratic National Convention, except this time, Clinton wins instead of Obama.
- That song from Up gets me every. fucking. time. I'm weepy just thinking about it.
- Did anyone notice that when they played the tribute montage to Horror films, a clip from Twilight was included? How the hell did New Moon end up sharing screen time with classics like Psycho and Carrie?
- The John Hughes tribute reminded me of everything I love about coming-of-age stories. Who's in for a brat pack marathon?
- I wish George Clooney could win an Oscar for being dreamy.

Brief conversations with jaded coworkers

via text message

"We're meeting on Sunday to read the manual for the new system."
"I'll bring the salt and limes."
"Don't forget the red cups."

"I like my job. I like my job. I like my job."
"And repeat."

"Will you be coming out to supervise lunch with me?"
"Yes, but I'll be out a little late. It's cool, though. Your boyfriend is already out there roaming the dome."

"I see your gina."

"Is your gina still under the weather?"

"I stayed 30 mins after work and Bejeweled myself."

Do snails get sad?

One evening, as Brian and I were leaving the apartment, I stepped on a snail. I heard the crunch, and knew before looking under my shoe that I wouldn’t like what I was going to see. The guilt occupied my conscience for a couple of minutes as we drove to the gym. But soon enough, I was huffing and puffing and sweating myself silly, and that slaughtered snail was a thing of the past. Unfortunately, I came home to a family of snails surrounding their dead loved one. Based on size, I assume the following: the snail I killed was the father snail; the second largest snail who laid itself on top of the dead snail is the mother snail; the two medium snails in the middle of the scene are the brother and sister snails; the smallest (and slowest) snail is the baby snail.

I sat at my doorstep for several minutes watching them crawl across the concrete. A myriad of questions flooded my mind. I know animals feel pain, but do they feel loss? Do they make sense of death? Will they wonder why their caretaker who braved the surface world will not be returning with sustenance? Did I crush him hard enough to kill him, or is he silently suffering? Would it be cruel to step on him again to put him out of any further misery? Can I give them something to make up for what I’ve done? How many more snails will suffer because of my careless walking?

Back to my first question: Do animals feel loss? I suppose to assume that they feel a sense of loss is to assume that they develop relationships the same way humans do. But that brings up too many questions of other feelings and thoughts they might possess (but probably don’t) like love, hate, and regret.

The subject of avoidable deaths reminded me of the recent death of a girl from the area—the result of a reckless drunk driver. She was a friend of a lot of acquaintances from high school. I felt disconnected by the several Facebook status updates I was reading about her, and how everyone felt about her loss. But then I read her story from the OC Register about how caring and thoughtful and beautiful she was, about how everyone loved her and got along with her, and about how she survived cervical cancer and continued her sunny outlook. I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness, and then feelings of betrayal. This article tricked me. How dare it stir up such emotions? How dare it bring about so many questions?

So, I did what I always do when I have a question. I Googled. I Googled about the most avoidable death in my life—my stepsister’s. I was surprised to see that a relatively recent article had surfaced. My family is not one for feelings. We don’t share the way I’m sharing right now. Hell, no one really asks questions for that matter. Things happen, and then they’re quietly tucked away and never brought out again. Every once in a while, one of my cousins will mention what happened, and we’ll wonder what came of our uncle, but we don’t ask our parents. I don’t think our parents know either. They don’t want to know. As far are they are concerned, my uncle doesn’t exist anymore.

After reading the article, I could only feel grief. I could only feel loss. The anger and the confusion are long gone. All that’s left is sadness. I am sad because I have no recollection of my estranged uncle. I met him when was I very young, and he was with his first wife. But then he divorced her, married another woman, created two more estranged cousins (whom I eventually met at my grandfather’s funeral) before moving to Vietnam, gambling away all of his money, and finally returning to live with my grandparents. I am sad because, of all the memories I have of my uncle, he never looked this old. He really looks like my grandfather in that picture, which makes things hard to accept because my grandfather was a righteous man. He was the voice of reason. He embraced everything good in the world and returned the favor. I am sad because prison is lonely, especially without family or friends to visit you, without children who care for you, and I associate old age with a sense of frailty and dependence, with a need for support. I am sad because my dad lost a wife, I lost a sister, and my uncle lost a family. I am sad, but not sympathetic. And mostly, I am sad because I can Google all I want, but my questions won’t go away. It won’t keep me from stepping on snails. And it sure as hell won’t tell me if snails ever feel sad.