Carbonite.

I'm feeling trapped in my head again. It's partially ebcause ojouchan's been very busy with her favoritest holiday of the year this week, and it's partly because of election anxiety. But let's face it (and by "'s," I mean "me"), this isn't an unusual occurrence. So I'm trying to start the typing again to get some thoughts flowing.

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I'm behind on my hiking. We've had a long hot season, but it's cooling down, which means it's the perfect time to start going hiking again. On Sunday I went out walking and ended up going further than I expected. It was beautiful out, and the air still seemed clear after the rains earlier in the weekend. Brigades of fluffyish clouds—not the massive boulders that tumble across the sky in other cities, but not the wispy ghosts we're used to in Los Angeles—tromped in formation across the Hollywood Hills.

I walked by a construction site and a smell took me back to somewhen in my teens, though I couldn't remember the precise time. When I moved only a few steps in any direction, I was overwhelmed by the lumber; I have no idea what made that pocket of history.

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I have many secrets.

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A few weeks ago, I lost my Metro Pass, and never found it again. In response, I started driving, since the gas cost and time made it a better deal then paying for my metro fare a second time. But it's a new month now, and I've got a new pass, so I'll be heading home underground again. I'm not looking forward to it. I have a headache now, and for some reason, I always start to feel a little ill on the Monday-morning ride back home. I'll probably slam early into bed after picking up Ojou.

MonNYTX: 3:15.

Apolitical Announcement.

I was hoping to do what many of you are doing and write something stirring and emotional regarding tomorrow. But my fever for political change is being overwhelmed by . . . actual fever.

When I got home, I did slam into bed, where I had feverish dreams. At one point in my sleep, I sat upright, with my eyes open, and demanded that ojouchan fetch me the "fish crackers" from the other room. Since then, I've called in sick, and been downing tea and soup. As long as I can sleep well, I think I'll have stopped an illness before it could start.

The only thing I'll say, then, is that with voting, like so many things, it can feel like the things you do are utterly inconsequential compared to what everyone else does. Just remember that you are everyone else, to everyone else.