Main Entry: mal·aise
Pronunciation: m&-'lAz, ma-, -'lezFunction: noun
Etymology: French malaise, from Old French, from mal- + aise comfort -- more at EASE


1 : an indefinite feeling of debility or lack of health often indicative of or accompanying the onset of an illness
2 : a vague sense of mental or moral ill-being

I don't think I mentioned this but a while ago I was subjected to an "annual review" at work. I sat in an office with my new supervisor and she told me that I was performing up the company's expectations. She then commented on the general malaise that was going around the office and asked me if I had any thoughts.


I thought for a moment.


I told her that weak leadership was causing the generally good work relationships to deteriorate into power struggles and hierarchy-building as people tried to gain status by merits that had little or nothing to do with their assigned tasks, the most common being making someone else appear inferior. This is the same mentality that is so prevalent in prison.


She stared at me for a moment. Then she laughed awkwardly and said she wouldn't know anything about prison.


I forced a smile and was quiet as she went on to say that I qualified for a bonus and a raise. I thanked her and she sent me on my way.


In hindsight, I should have waited until my bonus was safely in my checking account before I criticized her. Oh well; she had asked for it.

Alcohol is a dangerous thing. It is also a useful tool if used properly. In the same way a near-death experience invokes a sudden passion for life, being drunk (a near-stupid experience) can also ignite a glorious celebration of one's creative faculties.


If not, sobering up gives a keen recognition of the sound arguments the senses can propose when not clouded by foreign chemicals.


Written while enjoying a beer and reading "The Monkey Wrench Gang" in the backyard of Brian's grandparents' house/ranch in Oregon at around 10:30 in the morning.

As you probably suspected, I am in Klamath Falls, Oregon, wildy aggravating the local townfolk.


As spring break dawned on me this year, I decided to forego the usual drunken debauchery in Mexico for a week of quiet exploration of Northwestern America.


So far, it has been pretty quiet.

A crab and a lobster are secretly dating. Pretty soon, the lobster tires of the lying and tells her father, who forbids her to see the crab.


"It'll never work" he says to her. "Crabs walk sideways and we walk straight!"


"Please," she begs, "Just meet him once. I know you'll like him."


Her father finally agrees, and she runs of to share the good news.


The crab is so excited he decides to surprise his beloved's family. He practices and practices until he can finally walk straight.


On the big day he walks the entire way to the lobster's house as straight as he can. Standing on the porch, the lobster dad yells to his daughter, "I knew it. Here comes that crab and he's drunk!"


Reprinted without permission from the copy of Reader's Digest I found in the break room at work as I was heating up water in my Justice League mug. Shortly after, in that very same mug, I successfully brewed green tea. It was delicious.

I've been up all night. Why?


For absolutely no good reason!


I took a day off from work today. Should keep life a lot easier. Many a morning I've staggered into work after being out all night. It was never pretty but it was always worth it.

At last, Kenya is getting the praise and recognition it deserves.


I think parts of my brain that have been lying dormant are beginning to awaken. It's painful. Similar to when an arm or leg "falls asleep." Millions of miniscule pins and tiny needles jabbing furiously at a cellular level.


Like that 'cept in my brain.


Good thing I wasn't driving.


Tomorrow, Brian, Kiki, and I are going to listen Crispin Tickle. His name sounds like a band but he's actually some kind of world-renowned environmental biologist. I've been toying with the idea of changing my major from the cut-throat world of linguistics to the tea-and-crumpets world of bio-ethics. I figure hey, I like biology. I like to argue. I really like the idea of cloning the Tasmanian tiger. Who wouldn't want one of these cuddly critters?




Allegedly, Tasmanian tigers were very shy and surprisingly timid. They didn't even struggle when they were captured. In fact, they kinda remind me of myself: Big mouth....sorta striped around the hindquarters there...last seen around 1986...the list goes on.