Update: I forgot to mention that I had a story published yesterday. Read it here.

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My day was random, so so is this blog.

At some point in the 1980s, Saddam Hussein drank from a small glass cup. Other than its golden rim, it wasn't that fancy. But for a dictator on a budget, I guess it worked. I know this only because I held that cup in my hands today while visiting the office of a top advisor to Prime Minister Nouri al Maliki. It was displayed on a shelf and the advisor, Basam Husseini, apparently shows it off to every new person who visits his office. "Don't break it," he told me. "It's worth a lot of money."

It was strange holding a piece of history in my hands. Who knows what sort of brutal orders were made or paranoid conversations were had while Saddam drank from this cup. Did the expressionate Saddam raise it high in the air while on one of his tirades? Did he use the cup to toast a military victory? It's bizarre to think about.

Husseini, the advisor, is an interesting guy. His mannerisms made me wonder if he would make a good Iraqi version of the Godfather. He even had the right jawbone. We had a great interview about the Iraqi justice system. As I left the office, he told me: "Be safe. You're way too white to be walking around Iraq."

The day began for me at exactly 5:51 a.m. That's when I heard the sound of at least two machines guns outside the hotel firing off a few rounds -- at each other, presumably. The gunfire only lasted about 10 seconds, but I was ready to throw on my flak jacket and scurry into the hallway. It was the first time I had been awoken by gunfire since I got here -- and the first time I heard so much of it so close by. It sounded like it was right outside my third-story window. For whatever reason, I fell back to sleep pretty easily. When I woke up again at 8:30, I asked our security guard Kevin about the gunfire.

"Oh you heard it?" he asked.

"Yeah, it woke me up," I said.

"It was probably just some guy shooting at another guy," Kevin said.

"Oh," I said.

Great analysis.

In Iraq, blackouts are the rule, not the exception. But we usually get power to the hotel 24/7 thanks to a massive generator. But this morning that generator went out. I was leaving to the Green Zone soon anyway, so it wasn't too big of a deal for me, but it was a good reminder that everything around here is unstable and unpredictable. By the time I got back to the hotel, we had power again. But much of Baghdad is not so fortunate. Most residents get only one or two hours of power a day.

Usually when I travel to the Green Zone or go anywhere outside the compound I wear my flak jacket underneath a button-up shirt so I don't look too obvious. The bureau chief, Leila, doesn't bother. But I figured I'd go for the full livin-in-Iraq experience and maybe save my life in the process. The other good thing about the flak jacket is that it really makes my upper torso look more square and firm. My shoulders look slightly broader and my abs become rock-solid ... thanks to the metal plate. I'm going to start wearing my flak jacket more often, like around the hotel and maybe at some shopping malls in the states.

I can't wait until one of our Iraqi security guards, Wassam, gets back from running some errands this evening. He's going to buy me Iraqi pizza. I devour anything here that tastes remotely like American food. And this pizza I will devour.