motionless sickness

if i had the choice to drive 20 miles non-stop on a Beyonce curvacious road and Mischa Barton stick pin straight road, I pick curves all the way.

whenever i drive on a straight road, i feel queasy and unsettled. the notion that these miles are laid before me as far as my eye can see makes me nauseated.

on curvy roads, i'm at ease. even though i can't see much farther than a good 20 feet or so, i feel relaxed, turning sharp corners.


i think that's how i approach life..and i have no energy to expand on this analogy.

blank.

i am empty. but hopeful.

simple things. (that take a bit more effort)

i woke up this morning. (ok, duh.)

walked over to the local produce stand, got a hold of some fresh button mushrooms and a bunch of basil.
damage: $3

took the train into ferry bldg. bought an epi loaf and a torpedo ($3). munched on the torpedo as i waited for the cowgirl to open her gates for those mooing for some cheese. walked around, gave into an espresso ($2) at blue bottle.
herded my butt into cowgirl's and got right down to business and settled with a lovely l'amuse signature gouda aka "the beemster" ($7) for my quiche. just so you know, i love love protein crystals in my cheeses. they are a joy to behold.

i went home.
the quiche was a disaster. it was my first attempt at a crustless and yolkless quiche.
it tasted okay, but it was grey and looked disgusting.

anyway. i enjoyed tearing off bread, slicing up cheese, and chomping on it. simply yums.

i also shattered a crystal bowl. that was terrible. but i didn't like that bowl anyway. it was a dramatic way to go, though.
and for some reason, i couldn't stop tears from falling on the train into the city. it was strange. and i'm still confused about it.

waiting.

i spent today alone. part of me needed it. another part wanted it. yet still another part longed for the energy to gather up the troops and paint the town red, wreaking havoc and bringing mayhem wherever we went.

cos it's my birthday. go shorty. it's my birthday. celebrate. party! drinks all around.

but there's no reason to. i appreciate all the msgs, the calls, all of it. i do! thank you.

but it really shouldn't be about me. i didn't do much. all i did was maintain fetal position and let my mother's powerful uterine muscles (or something) push me out the birth canal and allow a doctor to catch me, cut the cord and shove me into the hands of some nurse to tidy me up and hand me over to my mom. so technically, it's her day.

but there's a void. and i guess i'm just waiting for that call. or text. or something.
it's almost 10:30pm. there's still a good 90 minutes for my dad.

stuffed. but empty.

i devoured an entire rotisserie chicken, the whole baguette, and half a container of the best parmesan cream cheese.

stress, ya think?

sushit

had a nasty experience at hotei sf yesterday. guess what i did this morning. oh yea. quite a dynamite roll, if you ask me.

and as if the morning wasn't bad enough, i waited to use the john since my roommate locked himself in there first.

this is my gripe: if you're gonna hurl the steamed peas and mushrooms you ate last night, at least have the decency to open our lovely windows.

joystick

it's still weird to me that men are so guided by their joystick.
no ladies i know would throw away making $20K for a month's work to dilly dally off to london for some hot piece of ass. i don't care how hot.

we gals work that month, pocket the cash, THEN gallivant off to london for our hot piece of ass. or two. and buy a few choos to boot. or boots to choose.

girl.

i'm generally a morning person. but if a series of events throw off my normal homeostasis and i'm not getting enough sleep for at least three successive days..

..definitely not a morning person.

it's not subtle. my entire body screams "warning. warning. step away from the rabid mammal."

but you have under-evolved beings that haven't developed that sense.

namely one of my roommates. i ran into my room to prevent myself from snapping at him and his neck.

but who wants to hear a guy drone on and on about his weight? at any time of day? in any state of mind?

not i. roar.

weird.

wagging antennaes

There are often moments where a deluge of half-baked, addling thoughts drown my brain, leaving my fingers restlessly drumming, tapping on any surface, ghost-transcribing.

And then I open up a word document. or draw up a virtual yellow (or purple, depending on the mood) post-it on my desktop. I wait.

Nothing.
I wait.
Still nothing.
So I sigh, tap my fingers asdf-;lkj a few times and click "x."

I've finally decided to just start something and see. Who knows where this will go. If it will go. I'm going to be an amoeba and shapelessly muck around and have my antennaes wagging.