The Good Dr. J's Playful Game of Hyde and Seek.

It never ceases to amaze me the things people can do at one moment, and then the next. I have to dig out my sheeps' clothing again.. around here somewhere..

The first time we met he was moments away from (innocently) drooling on my shoulder.

After that it would appear that we spent our time apart moving along the same path, not towards each other, but maybe next to each other. We are already so used to going in the same direction it makes very little sense to continue doing it without one another. Not like two peas in a pod (that would be gross.. same parents.. icky), not like peanut butter and jelly (he's the wrong color pallet, and I'm not all that sweet..) not like two sides of the same coin. Better, we are similar sides of several different coins, we don't always over lap, but we are usually not so far off our metal precipice as to be invisible to each other. He has been there the whole time. It's my hope that he will be here the whole time.

According to certain calendars, by the time we are able to exist in the same state, the world will have ended.

Bummer.

I believe it is possible to grow up and stay a child, to keep the scent of muddy shoes and winter woods over heady cups of tea. Not everyone shares this belief, thinking instead that it's important to throw away the muddy shoes and use environmentally destructive spray scents to hide the smell of the season. The possessor of the sincerely inquisitive and creative mind is a rare beast-- the real ones don't get tired, don't give in because they see other people have.. they keep going, they don't have a choice.

I struck out today to find a job. In the rain. Not a smart thing, to try to find a job in the rain-- you get all wet, resumes get all wet. Though it wasn't really raining-- though if it was, it was the type of rain that you don't really identify as rain until it's too late. All of a sudden you are covered in the mist you have been walking through, afraid to try to brush any of it off lest you introduce it further into your clothes. Your nose has become a slip and slide, your forehead is charging admission, and the line meanders efficiently all through your hair. The umbrella you are traveling with 'incase it starts raining' is rendered useless by your lack of timing.

In spite of that, I think the impromptu interview went rather well, and I expect to hear back from them sometime soon.

Love is not blind, by the way. Love, if anything, has the power to see where many other things can't, and in spite of what it sees maintain the ability to be understanding and accepting. Whoever said it was blind may have been thinking about only the most superficial aspects of a relationship. Or maybe considering Love to be blind implies that it is blind to the world outside of the Loved. I could, potentially, understand that-- though I doubt the phrase is often used in that capacity.

It could be that 'Love is blind' is meant to mean that it is as 'blind' as any other highly emotional idea. Hate is also blind by that logic-- though considering that if Hatred is blind in the same way that superficially Love is also supposed to be blind, I would say that Hate has the ability to see much more clearly. It is easy for us to Hate what we don't like to look at, hard for us to Love the very same. If someone Loves an ugly thing, we think they are blind. If someone hates a beautiful thing we assume that they must have a very good reason for it-- that, or they are stupid, misinformed, or going through puberty.

I found one of the only ATMs that doesn't accept deposits today. I stood in front of it for a solid five minutes, disbelieving, pushing buttons and looking for the appropriate option to deposit funds to pay rent. Couldn't find it.. wasn't there. Key has locations in NY and ME.. none in MA.. and the SINGLE ATM they have secreted away on Atlantic Ave does not DO deposits.

Awesome.

So I was downtown, assuming I'd be able to get at least THAT aspect of my life squared away (third trip in as many days with limited results). Not true. I figured that I could at least make the trip worth my while by looking around Chinatown for Silkyway, which is a Martial Arts Supply store. I found it, complete with iron bars across the door and a 'For Lease' sign in the window.

Fail #2.

Holy crap. I just sent the most time consuming e-mail known to man.. it doesn't appear as such.. being shortish.. but I don't appear that complicated either.. being shortish myself..

letters of loss, apology.. warning..?

Today consisted of me trying to follow my mind around sharp corners, dark crevices, nooks, crannies, the briny deep, the lovely endless blue sky.. the deep and dismal doldrums of the MA Registry of Motor Vehicles.. trying not to lose it.

My mind.

Trying not to lose my mind.

To the uneducated onlooker it would appear that I am busy, working hard, getting a lot done. To the slightly more educated viewer, it would eventually become clear that I suffer from small problems that pop up all over the place, usually the symptoms of some other solution that has required much thought. These require much backtracking, reassessing, much wailing and gnashing of teeth, which is really why I would appear busy most of the time. Take that mystical onlooker a step further and you may even come to realize, as they would, that I have been working very hard at making my life more difficult than it needs to be.

I have existing within the cozy confines of my rock and hard place for a little over a year, and though I have become used to bouncing off one only to ricochet into the other, I can't say as I have ever enjoyed it.

Today I decided to learn about the Cambridgeside Galleria, it, according to the nice lady at the Financial Services Help Desk at the Mt. Auburn Walk-in Clinic, being home to the RMV (see above), where I could get a Mass I.D. and with it the promise of free care at said clinic.

To back track a smidge, my eye, in eager anticipation of Valentines day, began to produce, Vesuvius-style, great quantities of yellow muck at around 4 in the morning. Great quantities for an eye, understand, not, say, a grizzly bear or a blue whale.

Eye-sized volcano.

Italian volcano.

Pinche.

In order to get that under control I had to visit someone who would give me antibiotics. Enter Mt. Auburn Walk-in Clinic. Enter possible medical bill if I don't jump through the appropriate hoops set up by the state of Massachusetts.

Must prove residency. Must get utility bill. Faxed! Must get utility bill faxed because mail is too slow! Ten days! I have ten days to make myself into an appealing candidate for free care! Must get to fax machine. Find fax machine. Also must find job, coincidentally in same area as fax machine. No problem. Hit two stones with one bird. Applied for jobs! Must go home and put in eye drops! Stat! Home! Eye drops! Fuck! Step missing! Fax machine! Back to fax machineland!

So far no birds down and I can't find any rocks anywhere. So I got proof of my address, so at this time my project is to find the RMV and get a Mass I.D. la dee da dee dee da dee dee..

Letter to the screaming kid on the redline:

Dear The Screaming Kid On The Redline,

Please do enjoy this while you can, child. Please do, as dear boy, when you are my age, and you feel like exploding at 80 decibels, people will not only squint and wince when you totter by, but they will call in the men in white coats to come drag you off to a rubber room. A rubber room where you will be drugged and beaten, hopefully cleansed with a power washer. Naked. And then, boy, then you will have reason to scream.

There isn't an RMV office at the Cambridgeside Galleria. All of the learning I did about that fine mess didn't include that tasty bit of information.

Letter to the woman at the Information Desk at the Cambridgeside Galleria:

Dear The Woman At The Information Desk At The Cambridgeside Galleria,

I couldn't tell if, the second time we spoke, you laughed because you had just recalled something funny, or because my ignorance amuses you. I would, however, like to apologize for blinking at you stunned, when you told me there isn't and RMV in the mall. I know it's not your fault. Maybe you should have picked up the phone when I called your fine establishment and asked for Information. How could you have known, TWATIDATCG, that regardless if there was an RMV at your location, I would be no more successful than I was else where.. how could you have known..?

I wondered around for a while, stole the internet at the Apple store to find out where the REAL RMV was and how to get there, bought a floofy caramel coffee drink from a nice girl at Borders (she was behind the counter, selling such things), got confused about how books with Orcs as main characters are Bestsellers, walked back to the Redline, let some irate older woman in through the gates with me. She thanked me a whole bunch, did a lot of hissing and swatting at imaginary flies.

I sat on a bench and waited for the train.

There IS an RMV in Chinatown. I know this because I was inside the RMV for 2 hours, waiting for my number to be called, diddling with my phone, listening to music and still, for the most part, trying and succeeding at not hating my day.

I got pretty far.

Pretty far.

My conversation with the lady at desk #19. M=me, L=lady.

"Hi!" - m

"..." - l

"I'm looking to get a Mass I.D.?" - m

"You need to put in your social security number." - l, handing me back the application I had given to her.

"Oh, ok. Sorry!" - m, filling it out.

"I need your proof of residency and signature." - l

-I hand them to her.

"Sign" - l

"Sorry?" - m

"Sign there." - l, pointing at funny signature robot too close to me for me to see it.

"Oh! Sorry!" - m, I sign, immediately stressed out that the signature that I have just produced doesn't look a thing like the thousands of ones I have made proceeding it.

"How long does this usually take to get?" - m

"Seven to ten days." - l

"There isn't anyway to get it any faster?" - m

-She shakes her head.

"Stand right there I'm going to take your picture." - l, pointing.

"Ok!" - m, excruciatingly eager to please, bouncy, I am adorable.

-She photographs me. It is an acceptable picture, which surprises me. I smile at her from behind the camera.

"Great, thanks."

"Do you already have a drivers license?" - l

"Yes." - m

"In what state?" - l

"Maine." - m

"You can't get a Mass I.D." - l

"..." - m

"..." - l

"... excuse me..?" - m

"If you have a drivers license in another state you can't get a state I.d, is that your license?" - l, pointing at my ME state I.d.

".. no it's a ME state I.d. I'm still waiting for my license. So I really can't get a Mass state I.d. if I have a license in another state? I have to convert my license over?" - m

"Yes." - l

"----I don't suppose there's any rhyme or reason for that..?" - m, baffled, trying not to.. lose my mind.

".. what?" - l, confused.

"... why??" - m, beginning to smolder, I ask unreasonable questions.

"Those are the rules." - l

"..." - m

"..." - l

"... ok. Thank you for your time." - m, picking up my things and.. leaving.

Getting my license was my final act before moving out of ME. I am still waiting for it to get to me here in MA. I will not make the ten day deadline. I am hoping that the eye drops that I could have gotten from my father for free will not cost me my standard of living. My standard of living is pretty low. I'm not actually all that worried.. and because I'm not worried I, likely, have reason to worry.

I encounter a second screaming child on the redline on my way home. I construct a letter to send to him. I construct a letter to the Lady At Desk #19.

Dear Lady At Desk #19,

I.. I'm sorry. It's too soon. I know it's not your fault, but I can't talk to you right now.

I realize things could be much worse.

When I am standing on the platform, waiting for the train. Person-who-was-going-to-give-me-a-ride-to-make-up-lesson-tonight calls me, possibly unable to pick me up.

Had I known, all those years ago when I was informed that we couldn't afford drivers ed, wouldn't be able to swing going to-and-fro from driving lessons, that my worth and function as a human being would eventually be dictated by my ability to own and control a metal box on four wheels, I would have raised more a of a stink.

Had I known.

"I can make tzatziki, suck it." - my sister last night before dinner.

In terms of things that I could rant about, this is really the tip of the iceberg. Got all wound up last night, continue to be wound up.. click click.. click click..

Things are actually really lovely.. just.. like I said. I, apparently, love to make things much harder for myself than I need to. Thing is.. I don't even know I'm doing it.

in the gray.. gray ghost that I call home..

In the last two days I have distributed 150 fliers for the Arlington school.

I have rules for such behavior, thought I broke one of them twice-- once because I wasn't paying attention (I think I thought I was lost..) once because I figured I had already broken the rule, already felt bad about it-- double or nothing.. twist the knife two rotations, keep the transgression fresh, heighten trauma to dissuade any further insubordination. I am unrelenting. I am a maniac. Those are jokes. Mostly.

#1. I am nice to everybody. I say 'hi!' I say 'have a great day!' I say 'I'm just passing out some information on a local school!' Smile!! Smile!!

#2. I am nice to cats. I wiggle my fingers at them, cluck, squeak, say 'kittykitty'. I become ridiculous.

#3. I will not open a closed gate to leave a flier in someones door.

#4. I will not put anything anywhere near a 'no soliciting' sign, though it's an educational facility, technically we aren't soliciting, I dislike leaving that flavor in peoples mouths.

#5. I will not try to pass fliers to people I meet on the street unless they smile at me first.

I broke #4 twice, didn't see the sign the first time, and yeah-- the second time I saw it and just kept moving. There is a black mark on my soul for that one.

I kind of overplayed #2. So much so that I found a fattish black and white affair following me and yowling for a good few houses.

It was really excited that I was nice to it! It made me excited to be nice to it!

We got along *famously*!

.. at volume!!

Then I had to leave.. and it.. kept.. going.

It's probably still there. Wailing.

I don't really like cats. This whole fuzzy meowey interaction is new to me.

Much later:

Today yesterday and tomorrow will be difficult to tell from one another. I've been in bed all day-- only recently got one of my ears unplugged, only recently am able to amble as opposed to stumble around the apartment.

So I can see straight.. mostly.. but I really want a donut.. so I'm clearly not all there.

Went to Advanced Degree last night. Sure did.

Spent most of the time watching, unable to join in-- figured it would be unwise and irresponsible to pick up a weapon and spin around with it, or strike at anyone and be expected to defend myself after spending most of the class in the bathroom, running cold water over my wrists, and trying not to throw up/green out. 'S'not really blacking out-- things didn't turn black.. more greenishyucky: green out. Nod.

Where kung fu is good cure for whiskey hangover.. not good cure for pending viral infection.

Sirnosir.

Lesson learned. It's apparently just as challenging to train smart as it s to train hard. Crap.

Didn't go to Full Instructor Course tonight either-- NI said I could stay in quarantine and just to let him know how I was doing in a few days. I can count on one hand the amount of classes I've missed because I was sick-- I need to take my shoes off to count the ones I *should* have missed because i was sick..

..thems the breaks.. I'm still learning the difference between training smart and training hard-- what the purpose is.. why I would put myself through anything I would expect anyone else to go through. I wouldn't ask a student to push through a class if they were sick like I was. If they were being lazy? Sure. In a heartbeat. But not if they were going to like.. get worse internally because of some rock-head attitude that tells them to make stupid choices.

Ahhh.. boy.. I can't WAIT to sit back and watch the social chaos unfold when facebook integrates their '*best* friend' application.

Man-o-man.. miss-my-man..

she drink coffee, sea lion, she drink tea, sea lion..

What I am cannot readily be expressed in words. Though words, I understand, are usually the best place to look when trying to describe something.

Why do I want to describe something? I suppose maybe looking for relevance? ..familiarity? The possible idea that *through* this communication someone can relate? ..validation? ..community?

Sharing is.. caring? scaring? scarring? .. ring.. ring.. .. .. ring.. ring..

phones don't really 'ring' any more. You can't really say 'Hey Dennis, give me a 'ring' later, we'll catch up.' You'd have to say something like 'Give me a Theme to Sesame St. later, give me a Beethoven's fifth, a Six Feet Under opening title.. we'll talk.' But you wag your hand at your face in a sideways 'Y' gesture and people get it.

Also, cameras (unless they are non-digital, and my ignorant point of view will decide that this pending fact is also true of some non-digital models) don't make a 'click' noise when the shutter opens and closes. The machine does!!!! The silly robot that lives in your digital camera clicks and sighs when you (eventually figure out how to) push the little green button! It has NOTHING to do with the shutter!

!!!

I wonder what the evolution of THAT will yield. 'Well son, when I was your age, phones all made the same sound, one sound, one funny wiggly 'ring ring' noise to let you know someone wanted to talk to you. No texting back then, no emoticons, no facebook. These images here? They were made from small spools of plasticky brown stuff that couldn't EVER be exposed to the light of day or they would disappear!! We kept them in special drawers and books. Once you could look at them in daylight they were called 'photographs' not 'pics' and they were printed on very thin pieces of trees. 'What are trees', you ask? Well sit back, son and let me weave you a tale..'

Sweeping hand gesture, blurred screen, lots of hitches in the film, lots of mugging at the camera. I imagine thumbs up, overalls, straw hats, and chewing tobacco.

I feel about nine million years old. That happens whenever I look at Christmas trees in family rooms.

Been arranging old photos.

Should be going through paperwork.

Went 'grocery shopping'.

Applied at MIT museum. I should probably go there, once?

Heh..

I wont bind my strings to you, but I'll build my world beside you.

There is so much I have to do right now.

I've arranged my bookshelf, sort of. I put down a 'runner' carpetthing in the hallway, cleaned the nastydustyfront of my fan. I also set up a meter-change with the gas company. Sounds dirty, right? It was only about 20 minutes of focused labor, but I feel accomplished.

I'm in a sit-on-the-bed-and-stare-at-the-wall frame of mind, having just come back from a weekend that may as well have been a lovely swim in a beautiful dream.

I need to be in a put-my-bed-together-clean-the-floors-sort-through-random-paperwork-so-I-don't-get-zapped-by-any-obscure-pending-payments/notifications/address change/life change information-that-naturally-once-pastdate-and-irrelevant-will-continue-to-ruin-my-life frame of mind.

Hard.

Full Instructor Class tonight. Have to get in the right frame of mind for that.

Unthinkably hard.

I need to train my new roommate NOT to put the heat up past 65 unless his eyeballs are about to freeze.

Hopefully not that hard.

I should probably also adapt a frame of mind that allows me to recognize that, though I am not hungry now, it is possible I will be in the future and should, by that logic, buy groceries for futureme to consume when she is futurehungry.

Impossible.

My hands are so effing dry.. .. ..

Later:

I put my bed together.

I put my bed together without breaking it or me.

Arranged living room. Arranged living space.

Arranged headspace with Mr. F.

Assignment, should I choose to accept it: live, learn.

Done.