In which we begin again.

It has been a very weird winter here in the Windy City! Yesterday I was laying around the flat with my sister and she mentioned that one month ago had been Christmas Eve, which is shocking because Christmas Eve seems like a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. I have been working working working working at the office, but now, in a one month late Christmas present, school starts today.


I am alternately dreading the thought of/excited for the season premiere of school. I have two writing classes & one reading about writing class. I have been feeling desperately uninspired lately so I am hoping that new assignments and new books to read will galvanize me into writing again. When I read something fantastic, I am always inspired to put finger to the keyboard again, in hopes of writing something equally fantastic. So now it's second semester, and I am a little "over" grad school. I am not quitting. I think I am just second guessing myself. I hold a gold medal in second guessing; I won it on a particularly unfruitful and indecisive shopping trip during the 2008 Olympics.

Depicted on the medal is the Greek God Descisio, ordering his servants to bear him

hence to his villa so he can mope about not buying the sandals that he really wanted.

In related news, I have this mammoth overdue fine at the public library, so I justify new book purchases as career research.


Yesterday I happened upon a former friend of mine critiquing my work. I was browsing through the archives of a community we used to host together and there she was saying I got too bogged down in descriptions & details, and that I was trying (as in, trying too hard) to be a writer. I wasn't even hurt or upset because she was right, I was, though I don't feel that I'm that way anymore. I think I have a talent, and I just have to learn how to move it along and funnel it correctly into something readable. Which, grad school, I guess that's where you come in.

In other news, I am very excited about the spring premiere of:

1. LOST. Final season oh man oh man.
2. Nowhere Boy, a good lookin movie about John Lennon the teddy boy.

In which I wish I had posessed the foresight to buy a hat.

I am living on the ice planet Hoth right now.

So how was Christmas, how was New Year's? My life was a ridiculous dream for 2+ glorious weeks. I had a long romantic train ride home, a flurry of baking and present wrapping, a luxious morning, a long drive, a foot of snow (seriously it just would not quit), doughnuts and cookie baking, sledding for hours, family baking intermurals, two delicious dinners, endless movies, showers of presents, laid-back days of work, free chocolates... the list goes on and on.

New Year's was pretty cool too.

Needless to say, I am loath to leave the wonders of the holidays. Yesterday (it being Epiphany and all) I took down my Christmas tree, which is my least favorite holiday chore. I don't mind so much the work as I mind the depressing reality of post-Christmas times. I know that everyone is obsessed with the commercialization of the holiday but to me it remains sparkling and magical and a complete wonderland of delights. It is the only time of the year that I feel unabashed in acting like a complete giddy child and basically annoying everyone in my family by constantly singing at the top of my lungs. I would not lose that for the WORLD. You can bet your bottom dollar that it will always be said of me that I know how to keep Christmas so suck it.

Anyway I am not yet engaged in the full hatred of snow. I am still enamored of its charms and wintery delights, though I do need to purchase a hat. Preferably one with ear flaps because though I will look like a complete lumberjack, I will at least be a complete lumberjack with warm litle earsies.

Yikes, this is not what I had in mind.

In which my pens have all turned to inksicles.

TRUE LIFE: I love cold weather.

Oh, that? That's just steam rising off the lake (the picture is from the Trib), you know, normal stuff. I saw the same thing coming off the Chicago River on my way to work via Brown Line this morning.

Yessir, when I stepped out of my flat this morning, I took a deep breath of cold winter air and immediately felt my lungs freezing in my chest. The gangway was covered with a semi solid (but ALL dangerous) layer of ice and crispy frozen snow. The gate was locked in the icy embrace of winter. The sky was a hard porcelain blue. I slipped and nearly died about fourteen times down the block to the bus stop. And the whole time, I was fucking thrilled.

I confess. I'm one of those dirty no good low down winter loving commies. Everytime you're wishing for a heat wave in December, I'm fervently undoing all your hard work by praying for a blizzard. I get geeked when I see snow falling, to the point where I'm acting like a hyped up preschooler confronted with a pile of Sugar Daddies.

But you already knew this, since I've previously confessed my love affair with weather.com. I did forget to mention my main man, Tom Skilling, the bald panther of meteorologists, and the only one I trust to... well, I can't think of a weather innuendo, but the man is an adonis.

Anyway, yesterday was the close of my first semester of graduate school. I celebrated by not working on that twenty page paper hanging over my head, just another day in the life of a grad student, which just brings me one inch closer to leaving the warm comfortable womb of academia. There was an email sent out about thesis projects and I was like psssssht. Then I was like shit that will soon apply to me better get thinkin.

This picture is so accurate it's scary. I mean, I have a job and an apartment and a life (read: a cat) (read: no just kidding I meant a life) and everything, but something about the comforting familiarity of traditional school really makes my life complete. I shudder to think how I will operate without it. No professors? No assignments? No activities conveniently separated into two hour periods? No MLK Day holiday?  The world is a dark and scary place out there.

So in sum: Chicago is entrapped in the maw of a deadly winter cold, I adore snow, grad school schmad school, and I also love Tom Skilling.

in which it most certainly does not snow!

So this is the most wonderful time of the year. By which of course I mean the time that I become obsessed with weather.com. Right around the beginning of November, weather.com becomes my homepage, and checking it turns from casual curiosity to unhealthy addiction. As I write this, weather.com is preparing for its third round of weather predictions for me today.

Unlike nearly every other resident of the Midwest, for me, there is nothing quite like waking up to see the streets covered in a blanket of white amnesia-y snow. Just smelling the cold on the air gets me going in a manner that most people reserve for seeing their S.O. after a month or two of seperation: the fast paced heart, the fluttering hands, the breathless excitement, that warm, delightful almost-peeing-yourself-you're-so-happy feeling! That is me when the first flakes make their dutiful touchdown on the cold pavements of the city.

I am probably one of ten people in Chicago right now UNHAPPY about the unseasonable warmth that we are experiencing right now. Oh, because I'm afraid of global warming? Well, okay, touche, but also because I desperately want snow. I am on tenterhooks here, literally on tenterhooks! I can't sit down because I keep getting up to look out the windows & check for snow clouds. The weather channel is my morning. And I keep wearing my winter coat, half out of quiet misguided hope that this choice will somehow have an effect on the weather. (The other reason for wearing a winter coat is because 50 degrees and sunny does not mean soul crushing wind.)

Before anyone asks: no, I do not have to drive in the snow. No, I do not have a walkway to shovel. No, I do not have a predisposition for colds. But I will gladly a. drive you around, b. shovel your walkway, and c. make you a daily soup of your choice if it means that I will have snow N-O-W.


The only good that comes of an EL NINO CHRISTMAS is Chris Farley.*

"I am El Niño! Which is Spanish for... the... Niño!"

And even then, that might not be enough. In matters of seasonal temperatures, I have always found it wise to use one of the most famous addages from Poor Richard's Almanack as a rule of thumb: "If I can go rollerblading on Christmas Day, it's time for some goddamn snow."

In a related story, I really need new jeans. Preferably ones that don't require the employment of the tried and true rubberband-around-the-ankles trick to get them to fit in my boots.




I bet I can fit one more round of OREGON TRAIL in before quittin time! I love Friday.

*(Sometimes when I try to write Chris Farley's name, I end up writing "Christ" Farley. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.)

in which the saga continues.

If you like playing quest-y RPG games, and you would like to experience playing on in real life, just lose your wallet. Soon your life will be like a quest.

As a Peasant, you live in a pleasent fifedom of relative safety and security--until a band of armed robbers steal your most prized possession, [WALLET]. This sends you into a fit of tears/uncontrollable rage, mediated only by frantic phone calls to your mother, who works things out with the bank and is able to set up appointments for you to recieve a new driver's lisence.

Soon after this dastardly display of thievery, a [WIZARD] appears to comfort you. He reveals that there is a way to get [WALLET] back, but it will require a great deal of work on your part.

Do you accept his quest?
>>Yes
>>No



Yes? GREAT. [WIZARD] tells you that to reconstruct [WALLET] you will need to collect several key objects.

Wait. Did he say reconstruct? You just wanted [WALLET] returned to you.

[WIZARD] laughs. You are a fool. There is no way to get [WALLET] returned to you unless it is found by someone with a good and pure heart feels sorry for whatever rube doesn't check their purse 15x every minute to see if [WALLET] is inside. And the chance of that happening can best be described like this: slim to none. So your only choice is to reconstruct [WALLET]. And you already said you would so you're locked into this deal anyway.

[WIZARD] presents you with an itimized list. It is as follows:
>> 1. new [DRIVER'S LISENCE]
>> 2. new [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD]
>> 3. new [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]
>> 4. new [WALLET]
>> 5. new [STUDENT ID]
>> 6. new [UPASS]

Here is the catch. In order to purchase [WALLET], you will need [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]. In order to get to a place to purchase [WALLET], you will need [UPASS]. In order to get [UPASS], you need [STUDENT ID]. In order to get [STUDENT ID], you need to take the train, which requires [UPASS], and you will need $$, which requires [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] since your $$ was in [OLD STOLEN WALLET].

In order to get [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] you will need to go to the bank which is conventiently located in the far fifedom of [GODDAMN INDIANA]. In order to get to [GODDAMN INDIANA] you need [UPASS] and [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]. In order to get [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] you need to prove your identity, requiring [DRIVER'S LISENCE] and/or [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD], both of which were in [OLD STOLEN WALLET].

In order to get a new [DRIVER'S LISENCE] you must prove your identity, which requires [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD] and/or [STUDENT ID].

[WIZARD] flees the scene, laughing at your inability to solve your problems. You are left crying in the dust.

THE END.

Play again?
>>Yes
>>No

in which I go into a tailspin

So yesterday my wallet got stolen.

AWESOME.

Looking in your empty purse is probably about the worst feeling in the world.

It really isn't that bad (except for one glaring hideous fact which will be described in greater detail later). I don't have any credit cards, just one debit card that I immedietly put a stop on. My library card, school ID card, health insurance card, and my upass were also in there... which also sucks, but are all replacable. The upass is probably the worst of the lot, since it takes 5-7 days to get a new one (!!!) and costs $35 (!!!!!!). My driver's lisence was in there, but that is also replacable. And fortunately I was headed back to Indiana anyway this weekend to see my brother's show.

AND ALL THAT WOULD NOT BE SO BAD. Except my social security card was in my wallet.....



This is the glaring hideous fact that I mentioned earlier, in case you weren't aware.

So I am not one of those fools that just blindly travels her merry way with her trusty social security card in her wallet. I keep it safely hidden inside a hollow book. Just kidding, I wish I had a hollow book. But the only reason I had it with me was because they had to make a copy of it at work so I could, you know, get paid. And of course it was the day that my wallet was stolen... or something.

I feel like I have to add the OR SOMETHING becuase I don't really know. I was at Starbucks buying a chai for lunch. I went over to the cream counter to stuff my cash (a whole two dollars!) back into my wallet... then I sat down and drank my chai and did a crossword. Then I went back to work. No one bumped into me or anything like that. My purse was with me the whole time. It was hanging on my chair, but it was pressed against the wall and I totally would have noticed someone rooting around in it. I didn't realize the wallet was missing until about four o'clock when I went to balance my check book.

But like I said, it's the goddamn socical security card that is the absolute worst facet of this whole debacle. Missing social security cards are forever. I will always have to be worried about this forever and ever and ever amen. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

Fuck you, thief.

in which isn't she loverly?

so this afternoon, I went to the Fortnightly Club for lunch. oh you know, just this little out of the way place, luncheons and talks and afternoon teas.

seriously it was totally ridiculous. the luncheon was hosted by the Friends of American Writers organization, a whole gang of really sweet ladies who love literature and love to support it. they awarded me their annual scholarship through Roosevelt, so I got to go to lunch with them and give a little thank you speech. yikes.

this morning I got up and got dressed and went to work per the usual. at lunch, I got all sophisticated, just jumped into a cab and zoomed off to Belleview place, and got out at the delightful little cottage to your left.

I felt like friggin Eliza Doolittle or something. chandeliers everywhere. dumbwaiters and guys in waistcoats bowing you into the doors (I am being mostly serious here.) at the tables, the place settings had the usual intimidating three forks. all these little old ladies in hats kissing cheeks. three course lunch and cake and coffee afterwards. I concentrated on not spilling cranberries and yams in my lap and tried to remember what I'd planned to say when the time came to accept my award.

the president of the club gave a nice introduction. the other award recipient talked first. she was very eloquent and gracious and I admired the ease of the way she thanked everyone. so when it was my turn, I stumbled up to the mic and talked about how greatful I was, how I'd wanted to be a writer since the sixth grade, my first story about star-crossed lovers and a haunted fort (which got me laughs), and how touched I was that people support my work, even people I don't know yet.

I know, sappy, right? but shhh, I really did mean it, every word. every time someone says "hey I like what you wrote", it's like Happy Birthday to Me. I just can't believe that people are that interested in me. it's easy to get caught up in yourself and write only for you. I have a hard time showing my work to other people, not because I'm snooty or stingy or even embarrassed. I just hate bragging. so when people, beyond prompts, just appreciate my work... it's a big warm honor that I don't think I will ever get used to.

then after all that serious business, I went to the bathroom and proceeded to fall down the stairs, but recovered with my usual poise and grace and nervous laughter. She is Saint Mary's.

anyway it was great, and a "real writer" moment. by which I mean the award, not the falling down the stairs thing. and hopefully a sign of more things to come.

in other news, I finished my second piece of fiction for workshopping. not at all what I expected. while riding on the train to work, I became inspired by Fleet Foxes. check them out if you don't already know the secret. they are brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, especially "White Winter Hymnal". I am literally obsessed with that song, I daily put it on repeat and ride the rails around the Loop.

what else what else.... I'm trying to polish something for the AWP Intro Journal  competition.... I dunno if I'll make it to the deadline but I am hoping. maybe Medusa will go.

yikes, life. I love you.

in which I am following the pack.

5. things I am currently obsessed with:

1. buying dresses

2. eating out

3. fleet foxes

4. greek mythology

5. public transportation



awards luncheon tomorrow. weekend coming soon. life is good.

wouldn't it be sweet to trick-or-treat at Yoko Ono's? I have never much been inspired by her but she is a really interesting person. wouldn't that be something, to have such an intimate connection/knowledge to someone so famous and beloved the world over--knowing what their favorite color was, their favorite food, mudane banal information.

she gets such a bad rep but she's probably really sweet in person.

anyway it's a Friday. I am trying to write an apocalypse story but it keeps coming out too much like the Road.

"Jemmy has been sainted for a long time, but we are still walking toward home. He told us that all our troubles would be over the minute he got holy. When it finally did happen, he said success just tasted like wormy apples and started to cry. Juliette asked him to say a blessing over all of our parents on his sainting day, but she was just being nice. We haven’t seen our parents since a long time ago. Their bodies long ago fell apart into ashes, the ashes on our faces and the ashes we breathe. But I didn’t say this out loud because it would have made Jemmy cry again.

We are still walking toward home because walking is what they told us to do. Jemmy cries when he thinks we are not looking. He pulls his scarf over his face and sobs into the wool. Being a saint is not as great as he thought it would be, he says. Tears make pale tracts on his grimy face and he snuffles something awful. I have started plugging my ears with bits of paper and string just so I can get some sleep when the sun comes up, when we are all safe beneath the bridges.

It is my job to hold the map. It is Juliette’s job to hold the Baby Buffalo and to watch the clock. It is Jemmy’s job to make the night fires and do the praying. It is Wean’s job to watch the road. It is the Baby Buffalo’s job to tell us what to do.

When the sun comes up we run for the bridges. That’s the first thing we learned."


....see what I mean?


© christina k. 2009

in which time makes you bolder even children get older I'm getting older too.

so now I've got this job that I love.

I can't express enough what a relief a real job is and I can't stop smiling about it. I go home and feel so comfortable and grown up. it's like the minute I got a job everything I was worried about just drifted away. I wake up in the morning, make coffee, take a shower, eat breakfast, watch the news, get dressed, take a bus to a train to a train and unlock the doors at work. it's such a wonderful monotonous routine and maybe someday I will grow to hate it but for now... I love having somewhere to be.

I was born in Chicago, I was partially rasied in Chicago, and Chicago has always been my real home. when I moved here it was a fulfillment of everything I had been waiting for. I had been waiting and waiting to move to Chicago. but when I got here I still felt out of step. I started learning all the street names and EL stops; I started memorizing block numbers and Dunkin Donuts locations, but it still wasn't right. I went to school in the evenings. then I came home and laid on the couch.

now I feel a part of things. when I get on the train, when I walk fast with my head bent against the wind, when I jump on the bus, I'm immersed in this dance that is always happening in the city, all the time. I know the rhythm and I'm learning all the steps.

and I'm growing up. yesterday I realized that I am twenty-three. I realized how old that was and how young that was at the same time. I can feel my life coming together, assembling around me in interlocking pieces. that's not to say that everything must always stay the same, that nothing will ever change, that my life is my life and will be this way forever. what I mean is that I am feeling connected again, alive, vibrating with energy. I can feel my life working for me, and I can feel my purpose becoming more and more clear everyday. you know those money managment commercials where the green path lights everyone's way for them? that's how I feel things are working for me.

one thing I never talk about is my religion. I'm not ashamed of being religious, I just consider the matter very personal. I love being Lutheran, I love going to church and singing hymns and feeling the power and communion with something so much bigger than I am. every day, I feel this increasing spiritual awareness and some days my blood just feels electric. I don't credit my life to luck, I credit it to God, and that's where this path comes from. I have been praying for so long for my way to become clear and I think it finally is.


this office is so bright. my mother sent me flowers yesterday. it is getting colder and winter is coming. I am starting to wake up again.


thank you job. thank you Chicago. thank you God.

in which I start to grow up.

so today I got a job. then at school a condom got stuck to my shoe. fortunately it was unopened. I have had many encounters with condoms since moving to Chicago but this was definately the weirdest since I came into contact with it in a neutral classroom. I was walking to the bathroom and it was like I was walking on bubblewrap. then I thought maybe it was a wad of tape. no, it was a condom, taped to the heel of my shoe, so I started laughing & just couldn't stop.


but yeah, I'm a receptionist (condom shoe and all) at an interior design company downtown. so mark your calendars: Friday brings my last day of working retail f-o-r-e-v-e-r. REAL LIFE, here I come.

in which I eat with chopsticks.

the other day I saw a guy fall into another dude's lap on the red line. guy 1 was trying so hard to be cool. he had big shoes and a big hat on. and his lips were all puffed out like he was going "don't mess with me" in his head, over and over again in some crazy cool guy mantra. then the subway stopped really suddenly and he fell into this dude's lap. dude 2 lost it and cracked up and just kept saying "you should've told me you were so attracted to me" over and over. guy 1 caught on fire out of shame and got off with the next train stop, probably to wait for the next subway so he could ride home with some dignity. or as much dignity as a guy has while wearing big shoes and a big hat.



my best college friend CAROL visited me this weekend and pretty much made my month. I made chicken pot pie and we looked at Halloween decorations in the neighborhood. then we went to Chinatown. her boyfriend came too... turns out he's pretty cool. he taught me how to eat with chopsticks. he isn't Chinese or anything, he just knows his way around the chopsticks. !! eating with chopsticks is such a huge achievement for me, no joke. I have been trying to eat with chopsticks for 20+ years. turns out I was holding them totally wrong. now I am chopstick guru. I can even eat rice with chopsticks. yowza!

it has kind of been raining nonstop.

on a route obscure and lonely

hip deep in the briney swill, she remembers.
cheap pink plastic swine
six staring suitors
groping beneath the baclony below
her charming witty smile.
an echo trails in the hem of her skirt
she has been working for a pattern cutter
her teeth are yellow in the streetlamp
she is lucky to be working.
her fingers remember.


I have never considered the subway stalagtites
protruding sadly like sore baby teeth, small and easily forgotten.
The floor is pitted with grooves and footprints
the puddles gleam and every sound becomes an echo
the train is coming.
I take a breath and hear him answer.

m e d u s a

so this is what I've been writing lately:




This morning, I wake up in my bedroom at the top of dad’s house.

My bed is cavernous and my sheets are supple dark silk. The windows stand around me like empty eyes. The wash of the beach is far away.

Downstairs, Sally bangs around in the kitchen. The distant griddle hisses, musical grease. The twang of steel guitars on the radio, unfocused. Pelma is pumping water in the yard. The dog boys sing Johnny Cash out in the hills. The cicadas are droning in the trees. They’re saying: summer, summer, summer.
I climb out the window onto the red stucco roof and burn my heels on the hot tiles. The endless summer of the island slaps my cheeks. The breeze off the sea tastes like day old fish.

Some mornings I think about the white surf kissing the dark and bitter rocks below. Some mornings I contemplate dad’s hunting rifles, locked behind the frosted glass of the gun cabinet. This morning, I crouch over myself and put my face in her hands, make an X with my arms and legs.

And I wait.
 

 
 
 
 
© christina k. circa october 2009

in which nothing but fall will change my world.

positives:
1. on sunday, I got a $1,000 scholarship because I am a good/great writer which makes me feel much better/more secure in my life in general.
2. weekend forcast: cold cold cold oh yeah maybe snow?
3. pumpkin banana bread/carrot cake muffins
4. first story workshopped in class
5. LOST marathons/late night cups of coffee

negatives:
1. the ole navy
2. mysterious blown fuses
3. slowly dwindling bank account
4. first story workshopped in class
4a. I don't know where to go with said story from this point
5. very tired of reading about Marxism


I can't seem to give up biting my fingernails. it is a habit & a hobby of mine; it alternately disgusts & delights me. I was doing so well because I was compulsively painting my fingernails on a daily basis and I have a fear of having shit on my teeth. then my fingernails got really brittle and creepy and yellow around the edges and so I stopped. I think it is an addiction that will plauge me for the rest of my life. any suggestions are welcome except constantly wearing mittens--that is just silly.

I have been feeling very spiritual as of late. maybe it's the 5+ cups of coffee. maybe it's some divine hand. In all honesty I'd prefer the latter.

in which it's nobody's dirty buisness but my own.

Dear all 30<30 crew,

I'm sorry to say that after a very lengthy wait, Blake & I haven't been able to find a publisher & will need to abandon this project. I know you've all contributed a lot of time & energy into this project, but yeah, we're really sorry.

Wait. What's that? Oh yeah. Just kidding. I'm happy to announce that Starcherone Books will be publishing our little anthology in Spring 2011, just in time for AWP! Yippie! I'll send updates as they are forthcoming. Eventually, I'll need snail mails for contracts, updated bios, etc. Thanks, everyone for participating in this project. It's going to be amazing.

.... um translation: I will be premering in an anthology in spring 2011. !! anyone want to buy an advanced copy?

I have been getting job offers left & right & the best part is, I am not even being sarcastic when I say that. I turned one down today (1hr daily commute, 6 days a week with forced overtime, too far from home/school, would have interfered too much with school), and I have 2 more upcoming interviews. you know just living the post-graduate job-getting dream.

today was a banana bread rainy day reading about Marxism fall day.

in which there is a tango with the big white porcelain bus.

today I saw a lady puke on the subway. fortunately it was on the floor, not projectile vomiting, so there is some justice in the world but I still had 2 stops to go in the bright cheerful company of a pile of yellowish vomit. everyone started reflexively rubbing their hands together and making faces. I just started worrying that it would someone roll backwards and get on my shoes. not that my shoes were so precious, I just hate vomit. and usually I'm a sympathy ralpher.


to contrast this horrible news, I will now reveal that I am making cinnamon cookies. I have big big big trouble spelling the word cinnamon. cinnamin cinnemon cinneman cinnoman. I had to google it just now to make sure I was spelling it right.


"oh my god girl it is cold at night," and I am listening to christmas music.

in which we are having a big picnic for you in the desert.

so I have a receptionist interview tomorrow at a laboratory
so what am I doing tonight? watchin hair eatin ice cream and pasta.
this is how we celebrate.

we are all one:
and I am the President of the United States of Love......

in which I need a tune up.

¿cóma está?


I am just sitting around waiting for fall to start. currently the weather is muggy beyond all belief, except in our flat, which is breezy beyond all belief. yesterday I ate an end-of-summer delicious ferrero's italian ice on the red line on my way to school; today I hung out with caroline and ditched school. not too shabby.

if there is one thing I need to improve on it is planning my time. I can't get it into my head that it takes 10 min to walk to the train, 15 min to get downtown, and at least 5 min to walk to where ever I need to go. instead I wait till the last minute and then run around shrieking. if there is another thing I need to improve on it is washing the goddamn dishes in a timely fashion instead of getting all frat boy on them and letting them sit disgustingly in the sink. (I remember times in college when I would take my dishes into the shower with me in an attempt to force myself to wash them. la-a-azy.) more improvements to come.


I am really just doing some more procrastinating. I was contacted about a receptionist job at a downtown laboratory... I think it was the same indian guy that I accidently hung up on last week. yi-ikes. but I would actually like to work in a lab, because that would mean a. quitting ole navy, b. steady income, c. I would work in a friggin laboratory. I am finishing reading Frankenstein so I am a little nuts about labs right now. oo-oo.

in the meantime, 1. my little sister is visiting tomorrow, 2. my third roommate is moving in on saturday, 3. I am obsessed with listing and numbering things.

in which you'd better look out below.

"Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love."