I

I is for Inebriated.

This past weekend I went down to New Orleans to visit a friend that is doing a month long internship down there. My friend Nick and I made the 8+ hour drive down to NOLA, which stands for New Orleans, LA, (this blew my mind by the way), on Friday afternoon and arrived around 8. The drive down was fun, I made an epic playlist and we chatted the entire time. I won't go into too much detail about the trip but I will say that New Orleans is a beautiful city unlike anywhere else I have been to. It has such a rich culture and unique feel. Some of the houses down there had me dumbstruck by their magnificence. Beautiful front porches, vibrant colors, Shotgun houses, all of them so different from what anything I have seen prior. I got to try the traditional creole dishes, crawfish etouffee, jumbalaya, and gumbo. Each one more flavorful than the last. I also had more than my fair share of their famous drink, the Hurricane. The French Quarter was equal parts tacky and awesome. I felt like I was in Moulin Rouge. Although that may have been due in part to the fact that I was three sheets to the wind within in 30 minutes of getting there.

Prior to moving to Nashville and actually meeting people who had been to New Orleans, I had never entertained the idea of visiting. To me, New Orleans meant Mardi Gras and while I enjoy a party, that just seems too hardcore for me. It just goes to show that moving to Nashville has opened me up to opportunities I might not have had otherwise. I may not love Nashville all the time, and the greater South even less, but this move has been a definite net positive.

H

H is for Hearts of Palm.

So hearts of palm, has anyone eaten them? I had them for the first time last night and they were freaking delicious. I went over to a friend's house last night for dinner since she had gotten back into town after visiting her friends and was feeling a little friend-sick. I told we should have a low-key night to stave off any sad feelings of leaving her best friends. She is vegan so she said that she would make a big salad for dinner. While I knew the company would be great, a salad? Come on?!?

Well the salad was delicious and really filling. Turns out that putting a lot of different things into a salad that are healthy doesn't preclude tastiness. Let's see, the salad had avocado, tomato, green pepper, chickpeas, hearts of palm, and this tofu thing called Tempe. She also made a simple vinaigrette that consisted of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, dijon mustard, salt and pepper.

This whole post must read like I have never experienced vegetables but I kinda haven't. To me, vegetables are something you kind of have to put up with. I never really considered the possibility that they could genuinely be tasty. Whenever I heard people say they loved vegetables I thought they were just putting on airs. Like someone who says they are a morning person. After that salad, which I recreated tonight, I may consider myself one of the converted. We shall see.

G

G is for Gadgets.

I recently got a new phone, an Evo 4G, and I've become kind of obsessed. The people in my lab could vouch to how much time I spend playing around with it when I should be doing work. Ever since I was a little kid I've always wanted the newest and coolest toy, much to the detriment of my dad's wallet. This is gonna make me sound like a terrible person but one of my clearest memories of childhood is throwing a tantrum in a Toys R Us because my dad wouldn't budge on getting me an action figure. At the time it felt like my life would end if he didn't get me that toy.

Now looking back I'm glad my dad wasn't the type to just given in to his bratty son (in my defense that was a rare occurencec and you should have seen my older brother as a kid). While I still have my Veruca Salt moments, I learned that sometimes you don't get what you want. It's ok though, I don't think anyone's died from it yet.

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F

Is for F****t.

As with other words of it's ilk, this F-word is rife with controversy. I'm not going to write it because it is offensive to some and I don't see the need to repeatedly type it. Admittedly, my feelings towards it are somewhat ambivalent. When I first came out, I was vehemently opposed to it. I thought that it was a terrible word that had no place in intelligent conversation. Luckily I've only been called it, in malice, once by a homeless man. Due to his situation in life, I didn't really care all that much. I think not having a place to live trumps being called a nasty word.

Lately I have been finding the humor in this word. There is something deliciously naughty about using it among select company. A few weeks ago I called my brother and when he answered I said, "Hey f****t." He feigned insult and I found it to be hilarious. I know there are arguments for and against 'taking back' a word but the people who are argue it are usually insufferable. Without sounding insufferable myself, how do you argue free speech?

As I think about it, my newfound use of this word is related to the self-confidence I have developed in who I am. I've reached a point in my life where my sexual orientation is something so uninteresting that, to me, that word doesn't really have much of an effect. I know other people are offended by and offend with it but I don't think I really care. Granted I haven't been called a f****t recently by anyone who hated gay people but unless there was a fist following its utterance I'm fairly certain I would just let it roll off me. Their bigotry and ignorance is their own thing. They can live their life in some closeted turmoil (which is more than likely the case with though homophobes). I'm perfectly content with my interest in other dudes. If other people have a problem with it, they should stop being such f****ts.

E

E is for Energy

This is gonna be a relatively short post because I really want to get to F. Rather than some long introspective post I kinda want to ask a question that probably doesn't have an answer. Why is it that you can feel totally wiped out and then a song comes on that refills your battery stores? It's fairly well known that I dig dance/electronic music. My roommates used to marvel and make fun of how I would do homework to the likes of Madonna, the Scissor Sisters and assorted remixes. Rather than distract me, the heavy up tempo beat kept me from falling asleep and drooling on my book. Full disclosure, I'm listening to Kylie Minogue's newest album as I type this.

To me, music must perform a function. If I feel like bouncing around having a good time, I listen to the artists listed above. If I'm feeling down and sorry for myself, it's Bright Eyes, The XX, and Elliot Smith. When I'm feeling at peace with life and the world there is only one band that works: Deathcab for Cutie. I find it hard to understand people who only subscribe to one genre of music. Are they really that flat? Within a single day I can find reasons to crisscross genres repeatedly. You should all go check out this website Stereo Mood, it creates playlists based on your mood. Pretty darn nifty.

Shit, what am I gonna use for M now?

D

D is for Despicable.

Last night I saw Despicable Me with a friend of mine. It was pretty cute and there were some hilarious scenes. While standing in line waiting to buy my ticket, there were a couple of teenagers who were turned away because they weren't old enough to see Predators without a legal guardian. As I watched them, I was hit with a strong feeling of being present. All at once I was aware that I was 24 years old, living in Nashville, going to graduate school with the intent of becoming a psychologist. Not to sound hyperbolic but it felt as if I was waking up from a coma. I imagine it was a variation to what people describe when they are middle-aged and suddenly questioning where the past 20+ years went.

To be fair, I think this realization was slowly building over the week. I don't know if it is a result of blogging more than usual (re: blogging at all) or becoming reinvigorated with my love of research but I have been feeling calmer and more aware than I have in a long time. Life has a way of dulling our senses. As days go by you start to run on cruise control. It isn't automatically a bad thing, rather a simple fact of life that we put on the blinders to our surroundings.

Let's be honest, if memoirists actually chronicled their day to day lives, their works would be as boring as paint drying. The success of this genre is due to their ability to distill those moments that shock us out of cruise control into hilarious and poignant short stories or novels. Maybe my return to blogging is helping me become more conscious of when these "shock" moments happen.

C

C is for Cardio.

So yesterday I tried to blog from my new phone (Evo 4G) but I wasn't able to type in the dialog box after putting in the title. Chalk that up as a 'pro' for the iPhone. Also, I couldn't figure out how to delete the post so my newest post was an ominous 'C'.

I went to the gym for the first time in over a month yesterday and my body was initiating a revolt against exercise within 10 minutes. I hate the first few weeks of starting to work out again. It never is easy and you look like you are about to die while running or ellipticalling(totes a word).

Also, it should be known that I'm a sweater. This poses an issue here in good ole muggy Nashville. I walk outside for more than 5 minutes and I start feeling flop sweat dripping down my neck. So you can imagine the drenching I receive when I get my blood really pumping.

This is all meant to get to the point that beginning a workout regimen sucks. Yay healthy lifestyle.

B

Is for Buffeted.

Last night before I went to bed I thought I would be able to knock out a couple of posts during the day or at least mentally prepare them. My agenda for work consisted of running analyses on some fMRI data for a conference she is attending. Well that wasn't exactly in the cards.

What was supposed to be a relaxing day in front of the computer turned into a mad dash to keep one of our large studies from being shut down by the review board, babysitting a high schooler who is working in our lab, and a few other odd tasks around the office. I'm not the best at handling stress when I'm around other people. I get short with them if I feel they aren't performing to a level I expect from them. The thing is, when stressed out, I expect people to immediately fix whatever is wrong. Hence my getting irritated with anyone I come into contact with. Because of all this, I prefer to excuse myself and deal with whatever it is that needs to get done. Unfortunately today I was required to work with and around other people while as my stress level spiked.

As most people who know me well can attest to, I can't hide my emotions to save my life. My dad can tell within seconds during a phone call if I'm down or particularly excited about something. I'm an open book for better or worse.

After the fires were put out, I went with one of the Seniors in the lab to get a soda and I told her all about my stress response and how I tried to keep it inside so as to not blow up at anyone today. I was feeling pretty good since I felt I had actually handled today better than I normally would. To confirm my internal observations of budding maturity I asked her if she thought I was at all short today. She responded, "Oh don't worry Joel. You weren't like a total asshole or anything."

Awesome. Baby steps, I guess.

A

Is for Appetite.

It has been quite a long time since I have posted on my blog. After some highly aggressive campaigning by G, I decided to cave in and try this July Blogging challenge. I make no guarantees that I will complete it but I will give it a good effort. Maybe it was the nostalgia brought up by reading G's first two posts of the challenge or Kylie's new CD, Aphrodite, but I'm feeling the itch to write and attempt to be clever. Be warned, I'm shooting from the hip with this first post so if it meanders and has no point, get over it.

A is for appetite. When I look back on my 24 years of life I see great times with family, friends and all that good stuff. I also see epic moments of my insatiable appetites. Junior year when I finally got my license and a car, my HS made the school a closed campus. Rather than being able to leave for lunch to a fastfood joint, we had to eat in the cafeteria. I got around that injustice by eating lunch in the cafeteria and then, two periods later, going with friends to on of the many burrito shops around my neighborhood. Fast forward to when I was living in Minneapolis last year, I was placed on Domino's MVP list for carrying them through the Great Recession. I'm still waiting for their call to be the Domino's spokesperson. To sum it up, I have been and always will be a fat kid on the inside (and at times a somewhat round kid on the outside). Unless you have been in this position, you really can't understand what it's like to have that appetite inside you. It can seem at times that there is another person inside me who is never satiated. Call It the Id, call It whatever you want. It's there and It wants a late night snack.

How was that for a my first encyclopedia entry?