As a young science student, about 12 years old, I was informed of the life cycles of stars and that, yes, our sun was indeed a star. This spiraled out of control in my dreamlife to a point where I would wake up sweaty and fearful that the earth had just been engulfed by our sun during it’s swelling to the red giant phase of it’s life. Needless to say, my waking up proved the fact that the sun was still just a middle-size star. It took a little while longer, but I finally realized the timeline of the life cycle of a star and the probability of me or any of my genetically recognizable offspring being alive when this stellar event actually takes place billions of years into the future.

If you have ever had a similar fear of an asteroid hitting the earth or of a germ warfare conflict wiping out civilization, take a moment to read “We’re All Gonna Die” from Wired magazine. Maybe it will put that fear into perspective and your dreams can return to one of your many other vivid, enjoyable fantasies.

So, according to the WSJ, a small coffee at Starbucks is referred to as a tall cup and an extra-small is offered but called a short and is not on the menu boards because they needed room for the grande and venti and four sizes would, apparently, just be way too many.

I have lived in San Francisco for three years and still have not grown accustomed to the “non-fat double capp with extra foam” crowd. I’m sure the employees at the coffee shops have seen the cringe on my face when the person in front of me orders a “venti vanilla soy double latte with extra foam and whipped cream.” This isn’t a personal attack on the lifestyles of the complicated coffee connoisseur, but rather a reflection on growing up in the midwest.

My childhood consisted of one type of coffee with either sugar or cream added. Personally, I need the extra sugar to fight some of the bitter taste when I actually partake of coffe in loo of my regular Dr. Pepper fix. But it really was that simple in the past. I can even acquiesce and see the benefits of different types of milk and lattes and even the occasional cappucino. What I just sit back and laugh at is the complexity and sheer enormousness of the coffee-based big-gulps that the mass populus seems to crave today, to the point that the small cup doesn’t even make it onto the menu board.

Amazing. 40 percent of Americans iron while naked. It just seems dangerous to me.

I’ve always felt that “natatorium” was a complicated way of saying “building with a swimming pool.”

I will now be speciously enjoying the story line of the new movie Finding Nemo. I have been a huge fan of Pixar’s line of films and shorts, and will be seeing the newest addition to their feature film catalog soon, but I no longer am under the illusion that Nemo would survive in the real world.

SCORPIO October 23-November 21: You get a refresher course in what matters most. Something taken for granted won’t come easily. This pushes you to make more of talents.

I hate it when my horoscope doesn’t blatantly come true that day. I mean, it isn’t exactly specific, but shouldn’t I know at the end of the day what “refresher course” I took?

I spent an hour today comatose on the grass, guarded from the unusually warm sun by a large group of pine trees. It still amazes me after three years of working in San Francisco how a small square of green can calm and tranquilize the senses, even as the rest of civilization continues bustling onwards on every side of the oasis. The natural recharge just reset my body and mind and spirit in a much needed way and reminded me of the majesty of escape and necessity of nature in urban areas.