watching the detectives

Dudes, I seriously need to be institutionalized. I have a stack of research papers on my desk that are completely unrelated to work. Oh yeah, I have over 100 pages of required reading to do for classes, but am I satisfied with getting all of that done this weekend? Hells no- I compound the pain by digging up another 100 pages worth of research to do a pet project. Crikey, I am turning into an utter kiss ass, complete with don't stand so close to me emails to the professor.

Having just decried my insanity, let me completely contradict myself by noting that I totally lurve all of it. Really researching a topic in science makes me feel like a private investigator. Gathering evidence, following the paper trail, putting it all together. I never used to be one of those people who wanted to take a clock apart to figure out how to put it together again. But I guess it's just that mechanics don't pique my curiosity the way other things do. It is way cooler than my job, I can tell you that much. Of course, that is not a big accomplishment these days.

Tonight, the bro-seph is heading out to South Beach to get himself into all kinds of trouble, I'm sure. When we talked yesterday to coordinate getting him to the airport, we reminisced about a family friend around the same age as my brother. When this kid was younger, in his early 20s, he told us he wanted to move from New England to Florida. When my brother pressed him for a reason, he confessed that it was because of Will Smith's Miami. Let me repeat that-- this kid wanted to move based on the portrayal of a city in a Will Smith song. We have lost touch with the kid, but we can only speculate that he's currently spending his time in dance clubs convincing everyone to do the Switch.

Maybe I'm not supposed to broadcast this to the world, but I doubt that many people read this blog anyway. We are having a mini-blogger meetup on Saturday at noon. I know what you're thinking- and by we, she means her and her pet rock. But so far, maisnon, oodles, and ads will be there. If you happen to be in San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. Oops. What I meant was, let me know if you would like to join us. Especially if your name is Sawyer and you just pulled a bullet out of your arm with your bare, beautiful hand.