4 a.m.

I'm a really light sleeper. I woke up to the sound of a laptop's warning beep that it was running low on battery. The laptop was in the next room. Across a couple closed doors.

I couldn't fall back asleep and stayed awake in bed for an hour or so, just thinking. This blog post is already sounding very familiar, but I'll keep writing and see what it has in store.

Though sleep eluded me, I still felt very relaxed and calm. The days have been a bit trying lately, but I felt quite at peace while I lay awake. I felt less weighed down by my problems. It was a nice, introspective session. It was almost like I was sitting on one of those comfortable reclining couches you see in psychiatrists' offices. (At least the ones on TV shows seem comfortable; I can't speak for real psychiatrists' offices.) Except there was no shrink. Well, not unless you count myself. Yeah, it was a bit like speaking to yourself as if you were an outside listener. I must say that I was a pretty good listener. I bet I could charge fairly competitive rates if I went pro.

What was I pondering? People, mostly. And, you know, life. If you know me, you know that I get easily addicted to TV shows. I'm very careful about starting a new show, because I know that as soon as I do, I'll likely be hooked. I'm a sucker for a good story, whether it's a book, movie, or lately a TV show. I get pulled into the character's lives and I often frame my musings on life in terms of what I gleaned from identifying with a character on some show or book. I like to tell myself that the time I spend watching these shows is time well-spent understanding human character. Perhaps that's just a gross rationalization, but I'm going to stick with that for now.

My musings on life usually culminate with an outpouring of affection and love for people. All the day-to-day prejudices, angst, and feelings of anger just wash away. All the petty troubles that plague my mind during the day don't seem as important anymore. And I realize that the Beatles were right along. All you need is love.

--Arkajit

Sleepless in Boston

Well, I just got back to Boston last night. And after a long day of wanting to sleep and trying to doze off in cars, airport sofas, and airplanes, I finally have a bed and I can't sleep. My mind is full of songs, scenes from my favorite shows, and other miscellaneous thoughts. So be warned that the rest of this entry may feel a bit like a stream of consciousness, like it's been lifted out of some first-person narrative.

What have I tried so far? Counting sheep? Nah, that never really worked for me (not even electric sheep). I did try to sing myself a lullaby, but no dice. Maybe it's just jet lag and I still think it's Pacific Time? (it is after all, only around 10:30 back in the Bay) But, hrm, I did stay awake for most of the previous night to catch my flight. And while I did catch some Zs in aforementioned airport and airplane, shouldn't I be more drowsy around now?

So now I'm trying to write. Maybe if I just put some of my thoughts on paper, it'll clear my mind. That makes sense, right? You know, maybe it'll work like a Pensieve and allow me to siphon my thoughts into paper? I'm thinking of this quote by Dumbledore:

"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind... At these times... I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure."

Ah, yes, I know the feeling only too well. I could certainly do with a Pensieve.

You know what? I think the effort required to write coherent sentences is starting to have a soporific effect. I may not even have to write down all my thoughts. That probably saves you from tons of Buffy/Angel spoilers as that's my show of the moment.

What was I thinking about again? Smurfs come to mind. Yes, there's a particularly funny moment in Bones when Brennan wants a Smurfette doll, but Booth gives her a Brainy Smurf doll instead. I don't really know what made me think of that. Sometimes scenes from some of my favorite TV shows, books, or movies, just pop into my head and make me smile for a few seconds.

Weren't there some songs in the mix too? Oh yeah, I was listening to XM radio 20on20 on the flight. And you know what I realized? My life would suck without Kelly Clarkson. And I can apparently find God on the corner of channels 2 and 3 on the inflight radio. Also, I finally found out the name of this song that I can't get out of my head. And wow, Coldplay covered it? Well, here we are now, entertain us.

Ok, perhaps I ought to give this sleep thing another try. I think I've already filled this post to the brim with enough cultural references. How many did you find?

--Arkajit

Take Me Out The Ballgame

Another first last night. I tagged along with a bunch of interns and went to watch the Phillies play the Giants at AT&T park. It was not only my first ballgame, but also my first sports game.

Back in middle school, I used to be a big sports fan and remember avidly following the Giants in the early 2000s, those blissfully innocent pre-steroid scandal years. Those were the seasons Barry Bonds hit home runs 500, 71, and 73; Rob Nenn was a star closer with an unhittable slider; Eric Gagne was the Dodger's pitcher I most loved to revile; A-Rod was not an overpaid Yankee, but a Texas Ranger; Livan Hernandez and Jeff Kent were Giants; Randy Johnson was not (he was, and always will be, the DBacks Ace); and, oh, there was a little thing called the World Series that we got within 7 outs of winning before blowing it (to the Angels of Anaheim, not Los Angeles).

But going into yesterday's game, I honestly couldn't name a single player on the Giants roster. (Though I am shocked to learn that the Big Unit plays for SFO now!) I didn't know any of the fan favorites (who's "Kung Fu Panda"?) and had very little knowledge of the standings.

And while I don't remember too much about the game (Giants lost 5-1 and didn't play too well), it was still a very interesting experience. What I do remember instead are the sights, smells, shivers, and surprises.

The hustlers on the corner of King and 3rd Street peddling tickets as we walked up to the entrance of the ballpark. The long winding ramp leading up to the bleachers. The view out to the bay from behind right field. The tickling sea mist. The shock that the players looked much closer than I'd imagined from watching games on TV. The pungent smell of the garlic fries. The absurdly expensive diet coke. Feeling really thirsty after having some especially salty popcorn. The really silly games they would play on the big Jumbo-Tron ("Is Barry Zito's jersey number higher or lower than 42?"). The infamous seventh inning stretch. And more that I can't remember now...

We were sitting out in left field just below the big catcher's mitt and the prominent Coca-Cola bottle. I could just make out home plate from there, but as nothing really happened for most of the game, I didn't really pay much attention to the plate. Instead, I chatted up some of the people sitting around me. I met some old friends and some new ones. A couple people behind me didn't really know the rules of baseball, so I had fun translating some of the game's events.

"It's a full-count. That means there's 3 balls and 2 strikes. Another ball and it's a walk. And another strike and he's out." I hope the rules didn't seem too arcane to them. At the very least, I never had to explain what a balk was. Most unfortunately, I can't say the same about my first experience with watching a baseball game on TV. Randy Johnson was pitching and kept throwing back to first base to check the runner there. This happened for at least five minutes while the commentators talked about whether Johnson was balking and explained the concept. It's a miracle that I kept watching... I imagine I must have been quite bored.

After the seventh inning stretch, I began to realize there was little chance the Giants would come back to win. Several of us pulled out our iPhones and consulted the Caltrain schedules. After some debating over whether we could make the next train that would leave in 10-15 minutes, we decided to make a run for it.

Ten minutes till the train leaves. Down the stairs to the ballpark's exit. Now rounding the corner around the ballpark's exterior, the bay to the left. Seven minutes. Leaping past the statue of Willie Mays at the front of the park as we arrived at the intersection. A quick sprint, two blocks down. Wind in my hair, pure exhilaration. Four minutes. Another block across. Three minutes. Hurry into the station, fumbling with my wallet, quickly purchase a ticket from the kiosk. One minute. Flash my ticket at the conductor. And yes, aboard the train with seconds to spare.

And we're speeding away, back home, back to Hogwarts... No wait, I mean the South Bay, sigh... T'was a fun night.

--Arkajit