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01 Aug 2001, 07:23AM: I Love Dead People:

Possibly the most interesting and relaxing thing I've done here in Russia is spend lots and lots of time in cemeteries. Today was the last time, I'm pretty sure. I leave St. Petersburg in only four days or so. I already miss it.

Today I went to a cemetery in St. Petersburg where a lot of famous people are buried. I laid the Periodic Table of the Elements card that Steve gave me once on Mendeleev's grave. I also paid my respects to Popov, Pavlov, and Blok; couldn't find Turgenev, though I searched hard.

Earlier today was The Best Excursion Ever -- well, at least on this trip. Yusupov Palace, where Rasputin was killed the first three times or so. The guide spoke slowly. There were wax statues that scared me a bit, and fake doors and secret corridors and stairways.

At the cemetery was a child's grave. Smaller than a bathroom sink. Near a tree.

Vasileva, Nina Vasilevna.

1929-1931.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/1/102342/2525

02 Aug 2001, 05:56AM: We'll Always Have Petrograd:

Wow, The Onion actually has some really funny headlines today. I won't spoil it by actually reading the stories, though.

About three days left in St. Petersburg.

I'm just falling further and further behind in telling you all about what's going on in my life. So here's the short version:

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/2/85640/42671

04 Aug 2001, 10:16AM: I'm Alive and Missing Russia Already:

Today I went to Novgorod, basically an old city in Russia. It was founded more than a thousand years ago. And playing at the movie theater there: Moulin Rouge.

Tomorrow I leave St. Petersburg and begin the trip "home."

I'm going to miss a whole lot about Russia. Some of it will be the predictable stuff that I sort of already miss. Vera, my host mom. The mental workout I get every day from just existing where I'm learning the language. The hospitality and the cheap cost of living and the ice cream vendors.

I wonder what else I'll miss, that I haven't thought of already. The fact is that, even though I've been studying here, in many respects this is the first long vacation I've taken in a while. And I feel as though it's the first time I've ever taken a vacation somewhat independently. I'd forgotten that you need to carve out time for relaxation, and for joy. How odd is it that Bakersfield and Russia helped me remember?

I felt really, really appreciated -- I don't know whether this is pathetic or not -- when I got on the Net for the first time in days and saw that Leonard, Steve, and Seth had all mentioned in their diaries that they're looking forward to seeing me again. I know other people are, too -- e.g., my parents and sister, and other people who don't have weblogs that I read. But it's certainly nice that every one of the three weblogs I read today mentioned my return as some anticipated event. I sort of don't want to read Kausfiles or Joel On Software now, for fear of ruining my streak.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/4/131636/3649

05 Aug 2001, 04:35AM GMT+5:30: I can't believe I'm not staying:

And yet, I Can't Stop Leaving St. Petersburg!

I hit Frankfurt tonight, then leave there the next day and arrive in Washington, D.C. on Monday afternoon local time. Then I leave D.C. on Tuesday morning for a trip to SFO via Minneapolis. I'll be in SF late Tuesday night. I shouldn't have left War and Peace out of my bags and given it to my host mom to ship to me, should I?

See you all on the other side of the old Iron Curtain.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/5/73531/23933
Filed under: Reading

07 Aug 2001, 11:42AM: From Piter to Frankfurt to Here to SFO:

I'm in D.C., and I'm about to leave for Minneapolis and subsequently SFO. I'll be glad to see the people who are meeting me at the gate -- right now, as far as I know, that's my family, Steve, Leonard, and Camille. See you all in about eleven hours!

And yes, I'm glad to be back in the USA, although it's unnerving to be ONLY speaking and hearing and seeing English everywhere. I think a little in Russian now. I'm glad I went.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/7/14426/41819

To SFO from Pitr

Tue Aug 7th, 2001 at 11:44:14 AM PST

I'm in D.C., and I'm about to leave for Minneapolis and subsequently SFO. I'll be glad to see the people who are meeting me at the gate -- right now, as far as I know, that's my family, Steve, Leonard, and Camille. See you all in about eleven hours!

And yes, I'm glad to be back in the USA, although it's unnerving to be ONLY speaking and hearing and seeing English everywhere. I think a little in Russian now. I'm glad I went.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/7/144414/2352

08 Aug 2001, 09:05AM: Back in Berkeley:

Hi there, all. I'm experiencing reverse culture shock here in the US. Everyone speaks English! (Well, not really.) The PA system folks at airports speak English as though they were native speakers! (Well, most of them are.) I'm listening to Naif -- one of the Russian CDs I bought. I need to keep in touch with the language if I don't want to lose it.

Here in Berkeley till Sunday, then a week in Stockton.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/8/12549/31861

09 Aug 2001, 09:54AM: Resocialization:

Reverse culture shock feels a little harder than the culture shock of going to Russia. There were no orientations for the return.

All the signs are in English. Everyone speaks English. Well, almost everyone. I no longer know, personally, all the English speakers in a hundred-meter radius. And people are so loud and open on buses and BART and they talk to you and make jokes even when they don't know you. And BART is so unnecessarily cushy and not-crowded, and cashiers find it unusual that you make an effort to give them exact change, and cashiers make conversation, and it's okay to walk down the street smiling and singing to myself.

Lots of things, such as transit systems and buildings, seem very new. Compared to construction in some parts of Russia, UC Berkeley construction either seems lightning-fast or crawlingly slow.

I'm listening to DDT, Disk II. It makes me feel more comfortable to have some Russian in my life. And I understand more than one might think, in the lyrics.

I really do like the familiar. I'm enjoying knowing where to go, and remembering the buildings and streets and smells. But I now know that I'm not beholden to the familiar. I enjoy the new, too. Maybe I've finally recovered from all that moving-around that my family did when I was a kid. Maybe I can actually deal with change now. Concept!

I've so far hung out some with Leonard and Steve and my sister. I hope to do more of all that, and also to hang out with Seth and Alexei soonish.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/9/125424/4722

12 Aug 2001, 08:56AM: Wodehouse, Eco, party, transport, language, shopping:

Congratulations, Windows 98, for crashing and erasing my eloquence. Funny, isn't it, that this almost never happened in Russia, and yet as soon as I have to use my father's machine....but never mind.

My father was instigating a jolly good row with my mother, or trying to. He was accusing her -- stay with me, here -- of not defending him and telling me that he was "kidding" when he "joked" at me that he had stopped reading my diary, yes, this very diary, about halfway through my trip to Russia. I do believe that he did, as he claimed, all sorts of photocopying and file-fiddling to preserve my words for posterity. Whether he actually took the time and effort to try and READ those words of mine, I don't know. It would be quite like him to give up. Andyway, this eventually (how could it not?) grew into some accusation that my mother had failed to bring me up properly. And my father just watched nervously as I dealt with the aftermath of the crash, and pleaded with me, "Do not do any innovation on my computer." I didn't make the sort of jokes I'd like. I'm here for a week, you see.

In any case, I'm returning from an extremely enjoyable social period in the Bay Area. Rather a shock to the old system to come back to Tara from Berkeley.

Thursday during the day, I dragged holeburning about Berkeley as I did various errands. He was good enough to sit with me as I waited for something like an hour to speak with The counselor at Financial Aid. (It'll be quite a shock to get out in the Real World where you're not supposed to prove that you're destitute at every opportunity.) His quip in re: the Extreme Joyce Reading that was held around here a few weeks back: Portrait of the Artist as an Extremely Young Man!

As well, I comparison shopped (and saved!) for textbooks for this semester. It's been so long since I registered for classes that I had to derive/remember the topics from the lists of required readings. Evidently I'm taking fourth-semester Russian, a history of tsarist Russia, and some political science course about authority or something. Oh, and handball. No texts for that.

In any case, my comparison shopping, plus the generosity of Ned's Books, enabled me to shave enough off the prices such that the entire total came in to about $146, which just fit on the $150 in travelers' cheques left over from my Russia trip. Hooray! Or, in Russian, Oorah!

Oh, and I gave Steve a graduate degree in getting whupped at air hockey. I even shut him out once. I love feeling powerful. (Once, in Gostiny Dvor back in St. Petersburg, John absolutely schooled me at some nonstandard Russian air hockey. By the way, he has some new pictures and such up.)

Those were really the highlights of my errand excursion.

Thursday night, stretching into Friday morning, I hung out with Seth and met his flatmate, Zack. Aside from the fact that it's disorienting trying to think of Zack as a peer, since he's frickin' ten years older than me, it was quite pleasant. ("It's just hard to believe that someone whose favorite poem is "As I Heard the Learned Astronomer" writes techical documentation for a living.") Seth and I exchanged souvenirs (he got Mini Choco Leibniz, a two-disk Mandrake distro bought at a kiosk in Piter, and a Yuri Gagarin poster, and I got Free Dmitry-type and DefCon paraphernalia), Zack and Seth and I ate at a good Thai place, and the three of us engaged in a neck-and-shoulder massage free-for-all while Dar Williams and DDT played on the sound system and Seth translated Corinthians from Latin and Greek.

As for Friday and Saturday, it was a Leonard weekend. (Imitation Seth: "After I come home from a long, hard day of freeing Dmitry, I like to relax with a cold, refreshing brew.") The highlight of the weekend may have been the CollabNet company picnic. There were almost no mosquitoes! Oh, but you may not bring "modern recreational equipment" on the grounds of Ardenwood Historical Farms. ("How about a Frisbee made of stone?" "Discus, shotput, all the Olympian recreations are A-okay." "The ancient sport of lawn darts.") We played bad badminton (borrowing the institutional equipment, of course), we ate surprisingly good picnic food, social banter occurred, I got "Free Dmitry" painted on my face and evangelized to the staff of the grounds, I met a number of CollabNet employees for the first time, and I re-met Brian Behlendorf (he gave us a ride, since BART was down for the count on Saturday morning. That would never happen in Russia!).

The only other time I met Mr. Behlendorf was also the first time I met Leonard. It was back in January, when I ventured over to the CollabNet offices with a prof of mine to interview some people for a research project. It must have been a Wednesday -- Leonard only met me after his yoga class.

On the BART, after a PA announcement: "It's a good thing I know this is Ashby, because otherwise I'd think this was Aaaihywah Station." "Oh, that's cruel."

On the train on the way from Emeryville to Stockton, a man sat next to me who didn't speak much English, and I speak hardly any Spanish, which he spoke. One reason I couldn't remember the word for "Where," as in "Where are you going?" was that I was trying to remember a directional "where" (akin to kuda in Russian), as opposed to a locational "where" (like gde in Russian). I didn't know/remember that donde in Spanish, like "where" in English, covers both.

I finished A Wodehouse Bestiary and have begun The Name of the Rose. Rather slow going, what? Well, I did start it just before napping. And calming Russian choral music was on the boombox.

When my mom woke me up, not only did she startle me such that she felt the need to remind me, "It's okay, I'm your mom," but I also didn't know in which language to speak.

Oh, and recently I've had a dream or few dealing with Russia, and fellow students on the program, and partly in Russian. Just digestion, I guess.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/12/235647/216

13 Aug 2001, 04:03AM: S-Town, B-Rown:

Er, that is to say, I'm in Stockton for a few more days, and I'm brown.

Trilingual hilarity from the Harihareswara household:
"What is the Russian for [Kannada for 'are you full?']?"
"Why would they say that? They just keep feeding you no matter what."

Talked to Vera, my old host mom, on the phone today. And my Russian is not completely shoddy. Yet. I really want to keep my Russian skills and improve them to (dare I hope?) fluency, since I'm beginning to realize that Russian could be my only really salable skill when I graduate in May.

Okay, I had no idea what people were talking about at the CollabNet picnic when they were talking about Star Wars and clones. Until I saw some offhanded mention at Nightlight Press. I must agree that "Attack of the Clones" sounds like a joke.

Had a driving lesson today. Want to get my license soon. I won't be driving with any frequency for a year, but it'll be good to have that particular skill under my belt.

Explaining to Mom what I like about Russia is sort of tough. I mean, I like it, in retrospect, that people don't make as much small talk with strangers in shops and buses and so on. I like the private-public distinction. But there's more that I have yet to tease out. I have to go back.

I'm working on finishing up Russia travelogues, e.g., Solovki Isles.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/13/19332/1485

Solovki, Part III ...?

Mon Aug 13th, 2001 at 06:53:20 PM PST

The third part, I think, of my travelog of the Solovki Islands in Russia. Parts I and II, if you please.

A note from the Wednesday night-Thursday morning train:

"So, what percentage of the $6,000 [the fee, paid in advance, for the summer program] do you think goes to bribes?"
"None; that's the problem."

Friday: The Monastery
I woke up and, insanely, wished that I had Pinkerdy with me. Pinkerdy is my primary stuffed animal and the only one who still lives with me in Berkeley.

Straight from the notebook:

Friday morning. 20 iulia 2001 g. [20 July 2001], I guess. Damn, a lot of mosquitoes out here by the lake! Not too near, but goodness! Aside from that, a cool, brisk, wonderful morning to walk in natural beauty.

It turned out that the cheesecloth and duct tape that many of us had brought were much more useful for bandaging Katie's foot than for keeping out mosquitoes.

We had an excursion to the monastery on the island. Women were supposed to wear skirts and cover their heads. My colorful head-scarf and flowery skirt led Anatolik to say that I looked like a "Typical Russian woman." Perhaps even a gypsy! But Anatolik was mostly kidding, he said.

I wonder why the Russian Orthodox Church rules that women must cover their heads and wear skirts for church?

I sort of listened to the droning guide. But my attention was more captivated by the man chopping wood in the grassy courtyard. He had a tremendous pile of uncut wood next to him. It looked like a backbreaking task, a penance for some unbelievable, Hawthornian sin.

The most moving moment was in a grand hall with vaulted arches for ceilings. I felt an intense sensation of holiness that reminded me of Hindu temples. My heart seemed to beat faster in this house of the Lord. Anatolik had the same look on his face as I did. It seemed like such a holy place, and the smell of oil lamps and candles seemed so familiar.

For some reason I remembered some morning I'd spent with Dan, early in May, I think. It had been before our finals had begun, or at least towards the end of the semester. He made pancakes, and microwaved some jelly to make syrup. We ate breakfast and watched some sort of home improvement show on TV and talked about what features an ideal house might have. Maybe it was all the renovation at This Old Monastery that reminded me of "The New Yankee Workshop" and "Home Again" and all those shows, and that Saturday morning in early summer on Parker Street. And I remembered the last few times I'd seen anyone cry.

The holy place reminded me of my father. I suddenly wanted to call Dad and check on his health. But making an international phone call from the Solovki Islands is not a trivial matter.

"This Old Monastery" also reminded me of The Blair Witch Project for some reason. Don't ask me.

(Did von Clausewitz say that "War is politics by other means," or vice versa?)

Whilst walking around the monastery:

Me: "What is that music?"
Casey: "That's discotheque, honey."
"Oh, God."
"You just said God's name in vain in a monastery."
"They're playing disco! That's worse!"

From the bell tower, one saw ten or twelve extremely alluring views of the countryside. Rural/Ural. These were the kinds of dizzily romantic, picture-perfect views that make someone want to throw away all the advantages of civilization to live The Simple Life. Much of the trip was, I now retrospectively realize, just a decompression from the hectic pace of St. Petersburg life. It just doesn't do to take the metro every day for a month without a break among "forests, trees, and rivers," to quote Yevgeny Yevtuschenko (from a completely different context, his poem "When First Your Face Came Rising").

In the monastery museum, I saw a photo of the monastery surrounded by snow. In the lower right quadrant of the picture lay a shadow -- that of the photographer.

I was late to the tourist complex and walked with the Russians instead of taking the bus along with the group. We Russians, er, we Russians and an American, were late because we bought souvenirs. I bought a cassette of choral music. The walk back was quite picturesque and pleasant, if I recall correctly, but it's been so long now that I don't trust myself to recall correctly. There were dips in the dirt road that we skirted because the previous night's rain had turned them into puddles. And the grass is always greener on the other side of the Iron Curtain.

Anatolik complimented me on my appearance, and then denied that it was a compliment, claiming that it was only a description. Quite slick.

In the bus after lunch, we went rather quickly through a dip in the road -- the driver made up for each twenty-minute stall by going seventy miles an hour the rest of the time -- and Susanne hit her head rather hard. From what I could tell, she was lucky not to get a concussion. John was lucky, as were the rest of the people in the back bench seat. John just flew into Anatolik.

The bus took us to ... boats. About five people piled into each rowboat. I discovered that, though I stink to high heaven at actually rowing boats, I can steer! (The verb for "to steer" is rulit'.) In fact, the others in the boat actually complimented my steering ability. (Later, when I got back to the US and continued my automobile-driving lessons, I found that I'm much better at steering a rowboat rudder.)

By the way, various people were surprised that I can't swim. There was a different and partly overlapping set of people that was surprised that I can't ride a bike. But almost no one, I think, was shocked that I can't whistle. No one offered, in any case, to teach me to whistle, whereas I had offers galore to learn to bicycle and to swim.

In retrospect, it wasn't just a pleasant ride around canals and rivers and lakes. We actually arrived at some landing stage and then unexpectedly hiked for miles on this wooden path through the forest. (As in, one two-by-four after another, the skinny way.) The mosquitoes loved the fresh meat. They were, on his behalf, sucking out all the blood that Shylock wouldn't have been able to touch.

Our guide was the same person we'd had guide us through the monastery. (So there seemed to be one bus per island, and one guide per island. This paradigm also led me to joke during the trip, upon seeing some rather flirtatiously dressed woman, that she was the island's only whore, and that she was also the only cop, leading her to have to bribe or arrest herself -- doubly, since she was, in addition, the only pimp.) The Guide spoke English, we found out, especially when he led us through an impromptu course in Russian swearing. This began when one of our band exclaimed, regarding the mosquitoes, "Shit!" and our guide thoughtfully remarked, "Shit. Da." (A Russian curse word for "feces," he taught us, is blin. The mild and relatively inoffensive nature of this word was confirmed for me when I saw a birthday card, which I subsequently bought and gave to Casey on her birthday: Oi, blin! Opyat ya zabuil tvoi dyen rozhdenya! "Oh, crap! Again, I forgot your birthday!")

Katie's foot didn't much like the hike, and many of us grumbled on her behalf. In fact, I found myself developing a sympathy limp, to which John commented, "You'd better hope she never has a kid."

We saw many pretty views, and I smashed a bloodsucking insect and left a stain on my notebook page, and I'm sure we saw sites of historical and political importance, but at the end of the day -- literally -- it wasn't that fantastic a hike. What I really gained was an appreciation for the more annoying side of nature. As I wrote at the time, "What I'd give for DDT!"

We rowed back, of course. Sergei helped us somewhat, and discussion ensued, and and there was some disagreement over the number of relationships I can claim to be juggling. 3, or 2, or 1, perhaps. Well, it's even more complicated post-Russia, but that's the nature of things, no?

My boat only viewed this from afar -- mostly -- but there was a bit of a fight between two of the boats. Sure, my boat had participated in water fights with other boats -- that's how we lost one oar -- but we'd never graduated or stooped to the level of throwing moss. Carolyn, for one, scored two direct hits on Jon Stone. I saw one of them and it was a doozy. That high school shotput and discus really develops a girl's arms. When we all landed, Jon Stone charged over to the attacking boat and declared, "This is the Bad Boat! You don't get to talk to each other for the rest of the trip!" But he was laughing and everything turned out all camaraderie-like.

Before heading back to the bus, some of us took opportunities to buy foodstuffs at a kiosk -- a rarity on the Island of Three Stores (each of which is labelled something like Grocery # 2). I had no small bills, so I bought a lot to avoid being a troublemaker regarding change. I donated some water, juice, and chocolate to the kollektif.

On the bus, whilst stalled (of course):

Jon Stone: "They're fixing it."
Carolyn, laughing: "You said that with a straight face. Almost."

We had taken to calling the bus many things. The Beatles Bus, The Monkees Bus, the Partridge Family Bus, the Bus of Death, This F***ing Bus (latter two favored by John). I think the consensus view would later emerge that it was the Love Bus.

On the bus, whilst stalled again:
Jon Stone: "Tomorrow's bus excursion is to the highest point on the island." [followed by a bus full of prolonged, high laughter]

After dinner, I read from Lady Chatterley's Lover, though a lot of other people -- almost everyone, even Katie -- went to the banya. I did have a nice conversation with Joe, Gregg, Cara, and Erin. We discussed Jon Stone's merits and what it's legitimate to expect of an RD.

Me: "I don't want to buy into some false cult of authenticity that says, 'if you know what's happening next, it's not really Russia.'"
And:
Me, to Joe and Gregg, regarding friends' names: "Bernadine?! And you make fun of Leonard?!"
Erin:"I love Sumana."

I went to sleep.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/13/215320/410

14 Aug 2001, 09:30AM GMT+5:30: Zhili Buili:

Hindi film, steering, reading, writhing, and arithmetic. Title from the intro to most Russian fairy tales, "Once there was..." (mutatis mutandis for gender and number, of course).

Lagaan. Today I finished watching Lagaan, also known as "Once Upon a Time In India." Almost four hours long, and yet only containing about five song-and-dance numbers! And -- my goodness, can this really be a Hindi film? -- the subtitles are excellent, and the songs seem to emerge naturally from plot and character!

Some neat British/Indian compare-and-contrast and fusion -- in fact, the only time you see some painfully stereotypical song scene, with a scantily-yet-traditionally-clad woman dancing about in some historical locale and wind machines running full tilt offscreen, just watch -- it turns out that she's white! That scene just jarred me, because it reminded me that certain film devices really feel more laughable to me when white people do them than when Indian people do them. Perhaps it's just habit.

Oh, a few quibbles. First of all, people don't learn Hindi in a day. My sister didn't, I wouldn't, and some random English woman wouldn't, even in India. Also, I would have enjoyed Lagaan better if I had more tolerance for film cliches and more knowledge of cricket. That is to say, I should be more like an average member of an average Indian audience. But, overall, I would actually pay to see this movie again, whereas I'm pretty sure I could take or leave, say, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, except for camp value.

Driving. Today I had another driving lesson. My U-turns are much less death-defying than they once were. Ditto for left turns, three-point turns, lane changes, and general maneuvering. I like learning this skill, although I also like that my intended lifestyle won't require me to use it much. I think public transit just suits me better.

Writing. I'm actually making some progress on finishing up Russia travelogues. For example, yesterday I posted a big chunk of my Solovki travelogue. As much as I dislike the boredom of Stockton life, and miss my friends, I must admit that I like the way material is flowing out of my notebook and into my diary, as opposed to just accumulating untranscribed in shorthand in my notebook.

Reading. I'm progressing in The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. I must admit that the opening seemed pretentious and plotless. Pages and pages of mystical-leaning description isn't my bag. But stuff is sort of happening now. I'd finish the book even if it wasn't improving, just so I could be sure that every single person who raved to me about Eco was a loon. In any case, To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis will be my reward for finishing Name of the Rose. At the moment, though virtue may be its own reward, finishing Name of the Rose might not be.

Of course, when I can't read my book, I chew Trident, er, flip through magazines such as Smithsonian and India Post.

Friends. Steve, thanks for the candy -- I'm still chomping away. Angel and I will have one of our far-too-infrequent summits soon, later this week. I'm seeing Alexei and Camille for the first time in months after I come back to the Bay Area this weekend, and I'm quite glad of that as well -- infrequent emails and weblog postings aren't enough. My sister is having various parties soon and I'll get to know more of her BILLION KAJILLION friends at said shindigs. Dan and I conversed a bit on the phone yesterday, and gave each other food for thought.

And here's a shout out to one other friend, who is having a rough time of it lately. I'll be the streetsweeper for your rained-on parade, old chum.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/15/03057/3136
Filed under: Reading

16 Aug 2001, 03:45AM: We Don't Except Checks:

"Gourmet soap" and "If you open it, you buy it. Don't get caught!" and "We Don't Except Checks": seen at Food King yesterday.

Drove with Mom for the first time and second time yesterday. She is willing to help me practice again: a good sign.

Today I saw Angel for the first time in months. We Did The Mall. That is, I actually said to my mother, for the first time ever, "Mom, we're going to the mall." After window-shopping (literally, in French, "window-licking"), we ate and lingered at the Food Court. We also toured Barnes and Noble, where I introduced her to Tonight's Episode. What, you'd like to hear some?

They're really much funnier when you pile them up like that. Until you get sick of them.

Oh, and the author of the play The Raisin in the Sun is Lorraine Hansberry, which I tried to remember while near an airport in Piter. Of course, I've forgotten something else rather memorable, namely, the gift I gave Katie on our last day in St. Petersburg.

Seen on the spines of mystery novels:
I Know my First Name is Steven by Mike Echols
and
Who Killed My Daughter? Lois Duncan

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/16/184546/293

Uncle Sam Wants YOU Not to Bike in the Mall

Thu Aug 16th, 2001 at 11:44:31 PM PST

You know, I'm really glad I don't use Windows and I don't go crazy installing new hardware or software that often. Right now I'm trying to be methodical about finding out why my father's computer won't recognize the driver that I've installed for his new scanner. But my life is more interesting than that right now -- no no, really.

Oi, oi, oi. Which sounds like "Today, today, today," in Spanish, Angel informed me today. (Which led to the decrees that words for "today," in any language, should be at least two syllabes, and "beer" three, unless there's a silent 'h' involved, and so on.)

Sad news. I've tried three different inanely obvious things, and still the computer doesn't recognize the scanner. Dumb machine! *kick*

Oh, and today my mother, for the first time in quite a while, again made an "if only you'd gone into engineering" remark. Because, after all, I have the mind for it. Mechanical fiddling is my strength, right? It's such a shame that I'm wasting it by not majoring in engineering. *gag* I had thought that she was over that!

And something's up with the Net. Dude, Where's My Google? And my ocf.berkeley.edu? (Or my.ocf.berkeley.edu ? Not that there is such an abomination.)

Okay, yob eto. Which is basically "screw it" in Russian, as far as I can tell from my miniscule Russian obscenities lexicon, and refers in this context to the scanner problem. I'm just going to take a deep breath and call the tech support line tomorrow, since I'll be home all day, and maybe they'll have an in as to why this connection seems so reluctant to occur. Maybe the Dell family and the Visioneer clan have some ancient feud that the Quick Installation Card didn't have room to explain.

Be. I read a blurb on the K5 front page that Be, Inc. went out of business, or will soon. Dan is one of the few Be users whom I know. I used the BeOS on his box a number of times and liked it quite a bit. A shame.

Weird mall signs. In one of the two malls in Stockton (they're right next to each other, on Pacific Lane, across from the community college), Angel and I happened across a sign on a bulletin board. It was directed towards people who ride bikes -- already, Angel points out, a mistake in medium choice, since if a person is riding a bike in a mall, will that person read, or even see, this sign? But, in any case. (My math and science teacher from seventh and eighth grade, Mr. King from Henderson School, said that all the time. It was the solid-state recording gag, even.)

So, in any case, this largish blue paper sign read ATTENTION BIKERS at the top. On the right side was a hand-drawn Uncle Sam-type figure, speaking via a speech balloon..."we want you to please stay off the ledges."

Verbatim from the sign:

Don't street ride. Take my word for it. I've went down that road before, and it lead to a dead end. Now that I know it's wrong, I'm trying to convince you to go in the right direction.

Uncle Sam was a street biker?

Happy news. I had an enlightening conversation with Angel, I had a terrific conversation with my sister, and I got fantastic emails from Leonard and Seth. As well, I found out that I can practice driving as long as some over-21 person with a license is in the car with me and can grab the wheel if necessary. (Before, I thought the age limit is 25 and over, but I discovered today that the 25-and-over restriction only applies if I'm under 18, which I'm not.) This expands the pool of "people brainwane can practice with" to include more of brainwane's friends. I win!

I'll go to sleep soon and try to dream of happy things, e.g., returning to Berkeley in less than 48 hours. Berkeley, where my strong will counts for something, a few people consistently consider me good-looking, and I have many friends, all of whom are far above average.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/17/24431/1246

17 Aug 2001, 05:53AM: Finally:

My mom and I finally lost patience with each other while I was practicing driving -- during rush hour today.

I knew it had to happen sooner or later.

Back to Berkeley tomorrow, the sooner the better. I hope I have most of Sunday free. I think I do. I think I might go with my sister to Comedy Day in Golden Gate Park, but maybe not. Maybe just The Mall again.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/17/205338/377

20 Aug 2001, 11:37AM: Terrific weekend:

I had a lot of fun. I went to my sister's party with Leonard and Camille and so many of my sister's friends. There was much eating and some mall shopping, and I watched "Black Adder" for the first time and MST3K for the third time or so. I ate strawberry shortcake, possibly for the first time ever.

I am SO GLAD that I'm not in Stockton anymore. I actually do fun stuff so I don't have time to write diary entries! School starts in a week.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/20/143751/131

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

Mon Aug 20th, 2001 at 09:36:09 PM PST

I can't believe I lost a friend because I was slow to reestablish contact after I was away for a while. I procrastinated, not because I didn't want to do it, but because other stuff, some important and some not, kept coming up, and I'm lazy. I'm so sorry. Please realize that it was a mistake and that I wasn't trying to send a message.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/21/0369/32230

Good and bad, bad and good.

Mon Aug 20th, 2001 at 09:57:03 PM PST

Argh. Good: I got a bunch of sleep and did two or three errands today. I also drove on the highway (580 East) for an extended period, and went to the Livermore Temple.
Bad: I alienated a friend by being stupid and lazy.
Optimistic, hopeful spin: The wound was not fatal.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/21/0573/91750

21 Aug 2001, 12:09PM: Notes on Neal and Jon:

Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash is, or soon will be, an audiobook. The excerpt is worth a listen.

Dan on Slashdot, when I complained that "Stopping the 56K Hate" is almost Jon Katzian but not enough:" I don't really read slashdot anymore except for the headlines. Sometimes I don't even get all the way through the headline."

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/21/15928/3100

22 Aug 2001, 11:25AM: Indian Matroshki, Lenin, Ask the Rabbi:

At my aunt's house the other day, I saw various artifacts of various cultures and countries. The matroshka doll sort of disconcerted me. I'm not used to looking at that nested metaphor while hearing women chattering around me in Kannada, in a house where I can drink the water and speak English and ... and be my Indian or American self.

Uncollected thoughts from the past week or so follow.

Ask the Rabbi! There's a fellow, who claims to be an actual rabbi, who sits on Sproul with a sign that invites you to ask him a question. The Daily Californian, the Berkeley campus newspaper, interviewed him. Funny. The last Q&A is the best, as usual.

I'm imagining a New Yorker cartoon in which a preening rich type pulls up to the "Self-Serving" pump.

In Sproul Hall the other day, I saw a bust and immediately assumed that it was a bust of Lenin. It wasn't. It was Sproul. Later, I told my sister that I wished there were more statues of Lenin in Berkeley, to make me feel more at home. She disputed that I could have any claim on Russia as "home." Hmmm.

I think Lenin busts and statues would be perfectly appropriate in Berkeley.

"Words are the map; they are not the territory." So said John Chapman to us. He was a substitute and then a teacher at my high school. Maybe he still is. I hope so. He was one of the first libertarians I ever met, and arranged the Literary Outlaws Friday reading/discussion group.

It's really scary that I might be making all sorts of errors by using the wrong words for ideas and feelings! Muddled words might reflect and create muddled logic. And I wrote this down the day before I went to Seth's place and read half of "Existence and Uniqueness" -- a poem which addresses this issue, among others, in the realm of love.

Social life. So busy! Yesterday I had a very enjoyable lunch and bookstore wander with Steve. He pointed out a title of a discussion on problems in publicizing campus groups: "Dude, where's my flyer?" Note that this is an actual discussion that the Cal Alumni Association will hold on October 22.

Then I went and visited Seth in San Francisco. He helped me read his poetry, played "Are You Out There" by Dar Williams for me, and gave me his extra copy of "End of the Summer" by same. Not to mention that he surreptitiously paid for my cheap Mexican dinner ("I just got a job!") and discussed copyright law and Latin and relationships with me. A most enjoyable and satisfactory trip.

Later today, I'll eat lunch with my sister and hang out with Leonard. Later this week, a party. (I sort of wish my sister had a web page, for completeness's sake, at least within this diary entry.)

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/22/142527/237

23 Aug 2001, 02:18AM: I HATE CLEANING:

Okay, I didn't mean for that to be all caps, but I'll leave it as is. I'll be glad that my guests will get to see a more sparkly apartment, but still, I hate cleaning. I need to figure out what food I need to buy. Maybe we already have everything I need for some sort of pasta salad. Or something Indian.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/23/171833/198

25 Aug 2001, 06:41AM: Party and NonParty:

I'm in Stockton, Calif., now, which is this interesting contrast with Berkeley, Calif. In Berkeley, I host parties and actually enjoy them, since there are lots of interesting friends and acquaintances around, and I feel in-control. In Stockton, my parents host parties and I tire of the socialization after about three hours or less.

But I'm coming back tomorrow, and then my classes start. Hurrah. I think I start off with handball and Russian.

Why does SFGate's ePicks have the categories "Movies, Music, Theater, Art, Events, Lit, Queer"? (cue Sesame Street music) One of these things is not like the others...

My party on Thursday night was unexpectedly crowded, which was flattering, but I'm afraid my guests didn't have the time I'd hoped. I have a small apartment, so fissioning of guests doesn't work as well as it would if I had, say, a large kitchen and patio AND a living room conducive to separate conversations. I enjoyed the copyright law discussion, but I'm not sure everyone else did...

Errands. I'm doing some laundry right now and trying to keep the amount of clothing that I take back to Berkeley as low as possible. I'd prefer to take only the minimum and thus force myself to do laundry, say, every two weeks. That'll be more manageable.

I'm also listening to Moxy Früvous for the first time in three months. I missed you! I sang some Moxy songs on the boat back from the Solovki Islands to keep my mind off of my seasickness. Oh, yeah, rough seas -- that's what you call 'turbulence' when it's not in an airplane.

All the while I'm thinking about a story I'm going to write. This will be my first attempt at fiction in almost a year.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/25/21415/2194

27 Aug 2001, 06:04AM: Cell Heck:

My parents made me get a cell phone. Now I'll be like half the people on the street, idiots who chatter away and forget that other people are around and completely obliterate the private/public distinction that makes life decent.

I met a cool Indian girl, found out that I can return one of the books for my Russian History class since I don't need it, and had three nonbad first classes of the semester.

I also updated my wishlist because my birthday's coming up and, if people are going to get me gifts, they may as well give me things I'll enjoy.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/27/2142/12076

The herd

Mon Aug 27th, 2001 at 07:13:33 PM PST

Today, on Sproul Plaza, at the University of California at Berkeley: "Republicans Register Here." Your call: so that they can form some sort of club, or just so we Berkeleyans can keep track of all of them?

And there's a newsreader on NPR named Laxmi Singh. She pronounces it "wrong," where "wrong" equals "Americanized" -- "Lacks-me," rather than the more properly Indian "Luck-shme."

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/27/221333/415

29 Aug 2001, 10:34AM: Seduction:

This technology of the cell phone is so seductive. It slithers into my life, whispering, "Use me! Use me! Rearrange your life to take advantage of me!" But I'm trying to keep my usage moderate. Minute restrictions and health scares help on that account. Also my dislike of looking like a dork. And trust me, even if every tenth person on the streets of Berkeley is holding a little phone as though it were a precious child, it's still dorky-looking. And handsfree units don't help.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/30/13459/2039

30 Aug 2001, 10:36AM: Hardball and contradictions:

First, links. This page of thumbnail pictures really makes me nostalgic for Russia. This Page 2 Interview has better questions than answers. And it really reminded me of the IAQ feature over at Brunching Shuttlecocks.

More on handball (and hardball!), Cyrillic protocol, and a sight gag or two.

Sushi. I ate both lunch and dinner yesterday at Tako Sushi, a new, cheap sushi place on Telegraph between Durant and Channing. Lunch was under $3. I'm going to go there rather often, I think.

I had some green tea ice cream as I talked with the people next to me in the restaurant. Right after I had eaten it, as I was debating the merits of open source with one guy, I felt really jittery. I didn't realize that green tea ice cream had so much caffeine in it, and/or that I had so little tolerance for caffeine now that I've cut back so much. I don't even have the daily cup of tea that I had in Russia.

Handball. I'm improving and I really like the game. Last night I went to an 'open house' that the Women's team held, and got some pointers and drills. This game could be really hard on my joints, and the ball hit me a few times, and I was feeling the soreness in my muscles last night and this morning, but darn it, it's so satisfying to thwack that little thing! Perhaps someday I'll even be able to hit it as hard as the Women's team captain could, so that it makes a really interesting "thwing" sound when it hits the wall.

The West Wing. The new season premieres in three weeks. I saw a rerun last night with my sister, which was fun enough. I'm looking forward to the giant compare-and-contrast orgy that will sweep the Political Science department when the new episodes start. President Bartlet v. President Clinton: Liars? Personally despicable? Honest public servants? Discuss!

Cyrillic. Recently I've had a few incidents when I've read or listened to something in Russian and not even realized that it was Russian until afterwards. Very much like John's experience back in the Chinese restaurant in Moscow.

But more relevantly, I dislike the anti-Russian bias in old versions of sendmail that strip off the eighth bit in KOI8-R text such that it turns into almost-gibberish. I may be terrifically wrong, but I think that's what happened to some Russian spam that a friend forwarded to me, and that is now pretty much unreadable in any standard.

Sight gag. A girl got on the elevator in Barrows Hall, the Political Science/Ethnic Studies/Sociology/I don't know what-all building. She was wearing a shirt with a "NO NUCLEAR POWER"-type logo (a cooling tower with the big circle over it and line through the circle). And then she went up one floor.

If you don't want nuclear power stations built, shouldn't you reduce your demand for power by, say, using the stairs when you only have to go up one floor?

I realize that some extenuating circumstances applied, e.g., the elevator was already going up, she might have been in a hurry, &tc. But still. It provoked thought.

Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/8/30/133611/417

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