Let me count the ways.

-Would you still love me if I gained 20 pounds?

-Um, why..?

-You haven't answered my question.

-Well, yeah I would. Where are we talking about here.. and why..?

-Where..? In my.. ear..?

-Well, I don't know, it might get in the way..

-You wouldn't love me if I gained 20 pounds in my ear? What kind of monster are you?

-What kind of monster am I?!?

Lucky Charms: Magically Defenseless..

Chocolate frosted crescent kicks.. my new favorite breakfast cereal. It is satisfying to know that after six hard years I have finally learned how to effectively kick someone in the face if they are standing next to me, facing my same direction. Taken me that long to gain the flexibility-- I believe this summer might mark the one where my knee and my shoulder finally meet. Hoo-hah.

When I take the bus anywhere lately, I pay in cash. I do this because I have not yet had to take the T anywhere, and I do not want to buy a T pass. In doing this I have had the good fortune of treating the bus like a giant vending machine. Just like a regular vending machine, it is possible, and not uncommon, to fight with it about the receivable state of your paper money. I find it best to use something entirely devoid of creases- as though it has been flat ironed between the unyielding buttocks of Zeus himself. Sometimes the irksome little robot will spit it out at me several times before swallowing and suffering my ride along with me, puking and hiccuping with other less crispy commuter dollars.

I saw a picture of a baby on a friends web site. What went through my head was not 'cute! I wonder whose child that is?'.. it was more like 'Where did that come from..?' Squinty eyes, etc.. My sister has been talking a lot about babies.. birth.. having kids.. raising kids.. wanting kids.. It occurs to me that I may have to be a pretty close witness to this process should it ever come about. I am not excited about this and this makes me a bad person. Regardless of what I may think, I do inhabit the body of a young woman, and I may not find it to be entirely confusing and uncomfortable (experiencing a family member in pregnancy, not myself.. I'm getting to that). Like most things that scare me (to my chagrin, I was able to recently find out that were it to come down to being pregnant or having cancer, I'd prefer the latter) I have done some self educating about the whole shenanigan. This, in order to alleviate some anxiety about being at this point in life, where babies can potentially be more than just somebody else's problem.

My bark is far worse than my bite, though. I don't "get" babies.. they confuse me.. they LIKE me.. and most of them don't appear to have an agenda. I suppose it would be neat to hang out with one teach it how to do stuff.. like long division, card manipulations and how to navigate the night sky..

I would like to point out that when I google searched "What does it feel like to be pregnant?" before entering the final word to seal the google deal, the fun loving helpful search bot came up with some possible matches for my anticipated choice of words. Some likely candidates included 'what does it feel like to be high/drunk/on crack?'

Top of the list: "What does it feel like to be a bat?"

...

A different internet search taught me that the almost constantly cracked corners of my mouth are caused by brain damage.

The internet is so smart!!

This (babies and brain damage) brings me to Rosemary's Baby, which I watched earlier today. For those who don't know, it is a story about a young couple who moves into a New York apartment building and befriend an old couple- crazy neighbors, who, Rosemary later believes to be Satan worshipers hell bent on stealing her baby. Mia Farrow plays Rosemary. Thanks to her stint as a voice actress, I can't listen to her become impassioned about anything without overlapping "I'm a unicorn! I'm a UNICORN!!" in my head over the dialog. That her character is concerned about her crazy neighbors engaging in witchcraft and other such pagan activities makes these frequent outbursts and my internal overlay pretty silly. Tsk tsk..

I did laundry today. Also, I'm pretty sure I charmed a bank teller into giving me a free-for-five-years checking account even though I'm technically not a student, unemployed, and new in town. I like this because I dislike paying ten dollars a month for something that should be free, cannot guarantee at least a $750./day balance or a direct deposit from my imaginary job. That sentence was not structured very well.

Had a second interview with Wet-Interview-Place. I will come up with a clever name for it when they decide to tell me, one way or the other, if I can sell them a weekly number of hours of my life in return for at least the promise of stability.

Arlington Food Drive! Cleaning projects!! Byung Ja!!

And I think to myself, I need exact change..

I installed a shower head at Amy's. Uneventful. I only sprayed myself in the face once.

Okay, twice.

The first time I spoke to a real live human being that I could look at today was about seven thirty p.m. EST.

Nothing back from my erstwhile damp impromptu interview. Looks like, again, all signs pointing to 'yes' means 'no'.

You remember those warner brothers cartoons? The one with the big nay-saying bulldog and his little yippy buddy? I think the big guys name was Spike? As far as I can remember the little one often tried to get the big one to beat up Sylvester cause he thought 'Spike' was so tough and so cool.

Chester.

Little dog's name is Chester I recall.

I think the most frustrating part of being me is that I have both of those guys, the hopeful optimistic retard, the staunch brooding buzzkill, in the same head. My little dog is constantly reminding the big dog of these grandiose adventures, convincing the big dog they are easily surmountable if impossible at first glance. Big dog goes after the prize, gets the snot kicked out of it by unforeseen circumstances. Little dog bounces around, ready for the next adventure, convinced the big dog can handle more.

I spent all of yesterday accidentally over medicating on cough medicine. I did this because I am retarded and I don't know what numbers mean. I was curious why I felt so strange throughout the day.

'Self,' I said. 'Self, why do you feel so weird after just a dose of 'tussin? Why, Self?' Then Self looked at the bottle and wondered why it looked so empty if I had only had three doses. Lifting a groggy arm over to the resting bottle, Self learned a little something about numbers.

What she learned: 4 and 2 don't really look anything alike, written or numerically, certainly not volumetrically.. don't ask me how I got them confused. I slept pretty well, felt a little hungover this morning, couldn't use my hands very well. Completely sucked during Advanced Degree. Had all the control and enthusiasm of a dead fish. UGH.

I still have a cough.

Hit 500 this evening. My hands tingle and are the color of an Oompa Loompa. Hoot.

When I want to receive e-mail from someone, while loading the page to my mailbox, my brain sings a little song using the name of the person I hope to hear from. The song sounds a lot like something someone could do the conga to, and works best if the person's name only has 2 syllables.

Shelley told me that the mirror I have is one of the ones that makes you look fatter than you are. In the really real world I must be approaching AIDS patient status.

Like many people, I used to want to be Luke Skywalker, true ages 9-?. Growing up, Blue Hill was the farthest things from the bright center of the universe, and during school I'd be doodling dragons and knights, daydreaming into the clouds of adventure, intrigue, mystery. I would venture now, that actually being Luke Skywalker probably wasn't a whole heck of a lot of fun. I would imagine there was quite a lot of down time, when he wasn't doing battle with himself in dark caves, or running around with Yoda tied to his back like some freakish three year old.

I feel like I have succeeded in designing a life full of challenge, mystery, and adventure. I'm lately in a position to 'defend my universe' from certain dark ideas, dark paths, bleak take overs. It's, surprisingly, not that hard. I say this now.. in a week I'll be back to doom and gloom, woe-is-me, what-am-I-doing-with-myself-that-is-making-even-the-most-benign-tasks-so-difficult. Kidding.. I hope I wont be there.. though history tells me I might..

I've probably also succeeded in securing a life of relative solitude. I pursue an art that tends to alienate. I have moved around enough to shake off anyone I could, potentially, be seeing on a daily basis.

Soldier Medic visits. He reminds me of all the good in the world.

Then what do polar bears exist for?

My roommate has friends over!! They are two women, I'm guessing mother and possibly girlfriend. I have made an effort to be social-- walked by his room (where they are) in transit to the kitchen so I could get some tea. He said hello, but made no effort to introduce me to his lady entourage. I was thinking it would probably be fine if I introduced myself to them.. said something like "Oh hey! My name is Lindsay, I'm Andrew's roommate! Nice to meet you.. blah dee blah.. "

For reasons unknown I decided it would be funny if I slipped and accidentally called him "Andrea." Because it would be imperative that I not do such a thing, the possibility of this accident actually occurring increased by at least a thousand fold. I kept quiet, hiding behind a cup of tea on my way by his room.

Anyway..

Zhe Rüelz:

There are several different types of chess players. Some play for love of the game, love of the challenge. Some enjoy the playful snobs, the hungry intellectuals, the elite gamers that often compete over such a heady playing field. There are those who seek affirmation and find the sophisticated arena of chess a noble platform to prove their intellectual worth. It is not uncommon that games of chess end leaving one person feeling just slightly dumber than they had earlier, and the other maybe a touch more smug. If you've played the game you have been the fool or the ass at least once, yet as chess is a haughty game of nobility and deep internal negotiations, one does not always get to 'play' the ass, if you take my meaning. Victors of much less esteemed activities such as tic tac toe or lawn bowling may be seen executing enthusiastic fist pumps and exuberant exclamations of "In yo faaaayyyceee!!" towards their former (LOSER) competitors-- such is not the world of chess. Additionally, people don't often play chess to get wasted. The following is a breakdown of a potential "new" way of looking at the chess board, the chess culture, the chess mind. If you find these results unfavorable, I may suggest reversing the game principle, having the drinking be a 'reward' instead of a 'punishment'. Enjoy.

Pawn: sip

Rook, Knight, Bishop: half shot each

Queen: shot (if your opponent gets a queen from a pawn you must take a shot-- but try try try to remember!!! That means they could lose **2** queens!!)

Check: sip

This set up is to be played with some kind of hard liquor (though if you intend to play more than one game you may want to use beer or wine.. just saying). I recommend vodka for hurt feelings, whiskey for hurt faces, gin for complicated rationalizationzzabouthowyoutotallycouldvehadummmrightthere..swearit.. rum for you'rejuzzzocutewhenyouwin/losecommere*grinswaynosetweakhiccup*.. and tequila leads me to part two of this whole reinvention process, which is strip chess.

This requires that the players are on mostly even clothing grounds. Undershirts are kind of necessary for the foolishness of the event to unfold appropriately.

Pawn: accessories, socks, shoes, hats ties etc..

Rook: per pant leg

Knight: per undershirt sleeve

Bishop: per overshirt sleeve

Queen: underwear (if your opponent gets a queen from a pawn that is instant nudity for you. hoot!)

Check: acts as the pair to the removal of sleeve or pant leg. If there is not an item of clothing that has already been 'started' the act of putting someone in check defaults to accessories.

Things to consider:

Removal of both sleeves/pant legs is the same as losing the clothing item.. duh.

Don't be a jerk and wear all your winter gear to the game.

Don't be a ho and wear pasties and a g-string and consider them 'accessories.'

If someone begins to feel sick (either from over drinking or over nuding..), that isn't fun.

Being an ass keeps others from wanting to pinch yours, chess is a game of the mind.. don't lose your mind.

If mixing the two activities be sure all parties are comfortable with each other-- draw cards to see who plays under what rules? Who is naked and who is drunk? Switch?

Use protection. T'would be a shame to have to limit drinking chess and naked chess to nights when the kids aren't around.

Augment as needed.

I'm probably going to scream..

I've lost my passport.

When the present isn't blasting, usually the past has it covered.

The Plan: Get up early. Walk (25 min) to Amy's place. Paint her bathroom and her bed (coat 1) go to coffee house, sit. Paint her bathroom and her bed (coat 2). Leave.

Leaving Apartment Take 1: Overslept. Looked at the key to Amy's place. Walked (25 min) in the snow and rain to Amy's house. Remembered I didn't actually pick up the key after looking at it. Looked at the door. Walked (25 min) back home, snow and rain. Picked up key. Blew nose.

(Somewhere in here I panic, convinced I have locked myself out. 30 seconds later, I find my keys..)

Leaving Apartment Take 2: Walked (25 min) back to Amy's place, tried key in side door. Tried key in front door. Tried key to the left. Tried key to the right. Tried keys thusly at both entrance locations at both deadbolt and doorknob venues. Looked at the door. Called Amy. Waited (25 min) outside for Amy so she could let me in. Painted bathroom, painted bed (coat 1). Ate. Painted bathroom (coat 1.5) ran out of paint. Left.

Moisturized hands. Will continue moisturizing hands until the end of time.

Went to catch the 77 to class. Dropped my remaining $1.50 USD into the bus slot for it to take me about seven minutes down the road and then go immediately out of service. Walked ten feet towards Arlington (still in Cambridge, with Somerville separating us- easily 40 minute walk). Stared at the silent dead bus, betrayed. Walked twenty feet towards my apartment. Stopped. Stared back at Arlington. Watched another 77 drive by. Pawed at empty pockets. Visualized the stack of quarters sitting on my dresser. 15 minutes to make a 40 minute walk. Walked home.

(Richard told me to watch out for the North Cambridge 77.. and that if I ask the magical bus wizard he will give me a special piece of a tree that will allow me to get on another 77.. free!! hee hee!!)

The phrase "tomorrow is another day" sounds menacing.

Conversation between me and my sister:

M= me

E= her

"Koala bears are actually pretty mean, yuhnno?" -m

"Well, they're only up for what? two hours out of the day? I'd be mean too if I was constantly 'just waking up'" -e

"I can see that." -m

A small pause while we continue walking.

"I didn't realize they slept that long. Maybe that's like, where they live, you know? Like, that's their life? when they're sleeping? And like, when they're awake their life gets interrupted and they get mad?" -m

There is a pause during which, I am certain she is speechless, awestruck by my tree-dweller-shattering revelation.

"...are you stoned?" -e

Conversation between me and my dad:

M=me

D=him

"You sound a little tapped up, seems like you need to ground yourself some. When was the last time you meditated?" -d

"While ago.."-m

"You really should, the benefits are without limit in importance and abundance, though usually not apparent immediately." -d

"Yeah.. " -m

"It really does make a huge difference, not in the external world, but more in your internal ability to cope with the outside."-d

"Yeah.." - m

"Things will start to become clearer, you'll feel more centered, you will start to see nothing but sunshine and lollipops, the world will start to bubble and shimmer. Tom Cruise will appear to you out of the mist, floating on a cloud.." -d

"You know he only has one tooth in the middle of his mouth?" -m

"Really?" - d

I should meditate more. I should practice more. I should have myself on a chul sa chung schedule. I should have myself on a weapons schedule.

I have to find a job. I have to figure out some other technicalities that I had forgotten about that were included in the moving process.. beyond unpacking boxes and arranging furniture and whotsits.. I have to get more centered.. I should meditate more..

I think I can pin point exactly when I started to feel.. this way. Reluctant. Un Willing. Unusually Gatdamn Hardtogetgoing= UGH.

UGH began roughly three minutes after I did a whole shit load of pushups, and approximately 9 hours before I started, in ernest, to pack my Portland life into boxes. I believe the first tier of UGH started in July.. it was more like.. '...ugh' at that point.

I believe this happened last time I moved here.. I really need a job. That will sink me.. center me.. keep me from being all over the place and largely irresponsible and disorganized with my time..

Painting day 2: No late start. No phony key. Finished bed and bathroom. For those of you that know me, it shouldn't be that hard to imagine my crawling around on the walls trying to bend into those hard to reach places, listening to Madonna's Immaculate Collection. I was not singing into the paint brushes.. swear. More like singing to the light fixtures..

Maybe I'll go on another hunt for a jade bracelet. I don't know why I've always done this-- or why I'm mentioning it here.. maybe because if for some reason I don't come back at least the two people who read this will be able to accurately engrave my tombstone "she died looking for a jade bracelet."

Haiku for you:

Humidifier.

Go ahead, say it again;

Humidifier.