we went to the new york aquarium this weekend.

this is what i sounded like:
- this is the freakiest thing i've ever seen.
- never mind. THIS is the freakiest thing i've ever seen.
- ok, scratch that. THIS is really the freakiest thing i've ever seen.

and so on and so forth. the animals and things that live in the deep sea are really something. and, looking at the jellyfish, i got into an existential discussion about what makes us classify things as alive. i think we are naturally more inclined to like things that look like us - so jellyfish are much more foreign than, say, a dog. but it's also harder to read the emotions of a jellyfish. i mean, what could possibly be going through their heads (or the corresponding area) as they float along? "hmmm, this is the ocean. let's pulse." "yup, still the ocean. let's pulse again."

i think my problem comes from too many kids' books where everything is anthropomorphized. (did i even come close to the word there?)

two other things worth noting.

walruses are huge animals and yet they glide effortlessly in the water. i was admiring how beautiful the walrus looked while gliding around, but then i saw him retract something back into his body that was as thick as my arm and at least a foot long. walrus penises are not beautiful.

mike and i were looking at some fish that looked almost exactly like leaves. they were floating straight up and down and if they hadn't been in a tank, i would have assumed that they actually were leaves. mike told me: "they were designed to look like that." i like the word "designed" there.