Although I fear the wrath of the internet's watchdogs that may someday read this, I figure they already know one way or another that I went to a protest at Alliant Tech on Wednesday. Alliant Tech is the US's largest manufacturer of ammunition, including landmines, cluster bombs, and even some weapons using depleted uranium. We got horribly lost in the southers suburbs at 6:30 AM, but as late as we were all the old hippies were happy to see some young folks roll up. This is one place that I truly feel a weekly vigil is warranted, and I'm glad to join the ranks.

In other Old Hippy News, I just joined a feminist women's chorus. The group was founded by a gaggle of lesbians back in the 70s, and seems to have grown into a ridiculous, flamboyant, firey group of women of all ages. I am not a lesbian (yet?), but I think it will be great to be in the minority for once.

Jenna and I are applying for a grant to make an art bike and art trailer for a local arts organization. I am hoping it will be as sparkly and absurd as possible. Otherwise I've been trying to pull together this open house for Sibley--I'm really excited to be gathering so many bike folks from around the Twin Cities. I'm terrified of what I am getting myself into--an unprecedented amount of responsibility, I'm sure.

During January I took a Wilderness First Responder class, which more or less teaches you how to take care of people when you're far away from a hospital. It lived up to its hardy reputation, complete with an extremely quotable Australian instructor. He dearly loved the gory makeup we would put on to simulate car crash wounds, and always egged us on with something akin to "A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIE TODAY." The unfortunate consequence of this class is that I now live in constant fear of spinal injuries and femur fractures, and must restist the temptation to clutch strangers' jackets before they jaywalk across Snelling Avenue. Last week I was tabling for Oxfam at a DJ Shadow concert, and a 16 year old kid passed out in front of me. Before the class, I probably would have shrugged it off and figured he'd be alright (which is probably true...) but this time I packed him away behind our information desk, throttled him with questions about his hydration and discretely tried to test the responsiveness of his pupils. The end is always pretty fucking nigh.

The DJ Shadow concert also resulted in some mediocre dates that now leave me in the usual Unwanted Awkward Predicament on Valentine's Day. I hate Valentine's Day.

We had another jam session at our house last week, and it was an unrivaled success. There are so many talented people hiding in the woodworks of this place, waiting for someone to force them into the limelight. I myself love singing, but sometimes I clam up. We made everyone sing "I'll Fly Away" with far too many harmonies competing for the high notes. Life is really good at those times. It makes me quiver with fear about these times of nights, because graduation looms, and I am still too busy to hang out with anyone, and the end is pretty fucking nigh, and I am terrrified of being lonely wherever I happen to be in six months. It's tempting to leave that decision until after camp, when I am in high-adventure mode and will be disappointed by nothing. Except femur fractures.

The Geography department has come to be home sweet home, where the professors know far too much about my personal life. I judged a bunch of middle school geography projects at an ungodly 9 Am on Saturday. A number of the students' projects attributed the Earth's diversity to "God's Amazing Grace!!!" One boy asked me in earnest whether I believed in evolution, because he felt himself to be a persecuted minority, clinging tightly to his project on the development of primates. Last weekend on a Geography field trip we made it out to see the world's largest ball of twine.