• Dreaming about doing push-ups and waking up with sore arms.
  • The t-shirt with a photorealistic illustration of a buff, flexing panda on it.
  • “Hips Don’t Lie” playing over the gas station radio.
    • The old-school, automatic shoe shine machine in the bathroom. Making a note to visit its manufacturer’s website, which was engraved in big letters on the machine’s instruction plate. The website being exactly what you hope it would be. It even has a hit counter, which read 365 on 10-9-18, 374 on 10-11, 377 on 10-14, and 389 on 10-17. [574 on 1-15-19.]
  • The semi-truck sleeper cab with a “Happy Hour” neon sign in its window.
  • My version of Malcolm Gladwell’s “10,000 hours” theory: it takes me at least ten hours (spread out) to get any project close to where I want it to be.
  • Learning about my dad’s altercation with a Brett Kavanaugh supporter in San Francisco, at first, from my elementary school drum teacher/friend Jeff Fortin’s tweet of the JamBase article about it.
    • Stopping myself from watching the video because I knew it would make me too mad [I watched it since then].
    • Wanting to say these things to the fan, but getting them out of my body here instead:
      • I understand that the crowd’s reaction and my dad’s response felt like “mob rule” (in your tweets), but what is mob rule in this case if not a bunch of people civilly (albeit a little rudely, with laughter) disagreeing with you? Is everyone else a mindless sheep just because they’re on the same page, and that page is different from yours? Isn’t that selling them short?
      • I understand that performers have a bully pulpit, and that when they direct attention to you it can feel unfair. But I don’t think that my dad abused the power of being on stage. I think he took you seriously. And I think he gave you space to express yourself.
      • I understand that, as a fan, it’s disturbing when people we admire disagree with us. And it’s even more disturbing when they disagree with us in a public, fraught way. I felt empathy for you when you said you were a fan and that you love my dad. But more than anything I feel mad that you care so little about making life better for victims of sexual assault (Kavanaugh’s or otherwise). And that you see my dad as an aggressor, and yourself as a victim.
  • Watching a cook at a Japanese restaurant prepare orders with a Hello Kitty apron on and with seemingly no stress.
  • Getting fully soaked from walking just a half of a block in the rain (it was kinda fun).
  • How the mini-tacos in 7-Eleven look like they were scaled down on a computer and then 3D-printed.