neither can I.
since last we spoke (and it's been a while I'll admit): another migraine. TWELVE POINT FIVE GIGAHURTS. and an interesting after-effect: for a while, every time I a) stood up, b) stretched, c) held my breath (a nervous habit), or d) yawned, the blood was completely gravity'd from my head; to compensate for it, my heart loosened the pressure valve a bit and the sudden change was like BAM and I had to sit down lest I pass out.
also there's a bit about a failed lan party, and some x-treme snow tubing, and some cynical 'return of the king' watching, but all pales in comparison. oh yes, I also did some painful out-of-shape skiing. wrt skiing: was the fog getting worse, or was I?
the presidential inauguration will cost $40 million. for what? a microphone and a bible? come on, prez. spend the money on someone who is not you.
on the other hand: opinions are like the football game I taped and wanted to watch before learning the score somewhere else but then my friend called and was like 'omg lol!!! did u see teh game!!! a totaly blowout!!!!!1'
I'm addicted to making things pretty and logical, except in the rare sets of circumstances where it might actually matter to someone (let alone someone real (let alone me)). that said, I have to be honest: the kitchen is sparkling this morning and it's my fault. a person might think june cleaver herself had spent an afternoon here.
in the thread of my recent ruminations about the relationship between my matriculatorial status and the volume of words issuing forth from my upper brain: again I find myself missing school. the schedule and style fit me. I have never liked the idea of a real world, and now that I'm in it it's even worse. I have always known I'm easily disillusioned but I never realised just how easily.
when I die (assume with me for a minute that I'm mortal), here is what I want: I want everyone to show up and be absolutely quiet for ten minutes, then I want to be carried/wheeled/rolled in ten minutes late. if this happens the way I foresee, I will be one of the very very few people in the afterlife—or whatever else comes after life—who can honestly say s/he was late to her/his own funeral. in the end it all comes down to bragging rights, but that's just who I am.
good:showering.
bad:showering with a growing lack of sufficiently hot water.
good:kissing.
bad:receiving an immediate and inevitable post-kiss reaction of 'YOU NEED TO SHAVE'
good:lather/hot water/razor shave (and missing the chin area completely).
bad:shaving around my adam's apple.
good:having a goatee.
bad:having to shave a goatee off at wife's longsuffering insistence.
good:lists.
bad:bad lists.
I spend too much time at a computer screen. how do I know this? yesterday I left work and the sun was setting, and I thought 'man, that's really high resolution.'
…
[aside:
R.I.P.
goatee
nov. '04-jan.'05
]
