Today I went to Mondauk park to run.

I spent two weeks in Italy and my body, while approximately the same size as before, adopted this new doughy quality that I'm now getting rid of with extra running sessions. It's going away quickly. If only all problems were that easy to work with?

I ran by a girl from high school who was always in direct competition with me. She was always auditioning for the same choir or hoping for the same award. She was super insecure (as was I) and could be really nasty to people. Of course, I took great pleasure in kicking her ass, musically.

I ran up behind her and her mom, not recognizing her until I had already passed them. I'm not sure she even knew it was me, unless she's particularly good at recognizing the back side of her high school acquaintances.

I'm letting go of a lot of bitterness and trying to be objective. I have nothing but good feelings towards her.

Especially because, at the end of the day, I'm happy now. I hope she is too.

I am drowning in a sea of Luna Bar wrappers, old magazines and mugs of lukewarm tea (from where I'm lying, I can see four).

Being sick is like being underwater. Everything sounds muffled and you can't breathe.

Sunday mornings are spent in the lab with my favorite lab monitor, a brilliant guy whose sense of humor is about as circuitous as mine. He's constantly challenging me. My time with him is mind exercise, preventing seemingly inevitable atrophy. 

This week's topics of conversation included growing old, the natural history museum, and his man-crush on Paul Rudd.

He asked me:

"Do you ever just feel like giving up?"

I smiled as I neatly wrapped MIDI cables and ejected my flashdrive.

"All the time."

When I got all of my new software during the (fall) semester from hell, I tried to install it and didn't have enough space on my computer. I ended up with bits and pieces of what I needed.

Bits and pieces... Fuck me.

Now I'm trying to get my software/life back together (yeahhhh, there's the analogy). I started a song after work yesterday and haven't left my computer since.

I'm not sure what any of that actually means beyond the fact that I am:

a) playing with a pitch corrector and 

b) trying to worry about zilch

Note:

Really? "LOL"? Because I tried to picture you laughing just now, and I just don't believe it.

Sage advice for the masses:

Toke with your superiors and if you're more into his roommate, then be nice: stop returning his calls. 

Hypothesis:

If you are being awkward, then I am going to feel awkward.

Discuss.

...spring?

It's days like this that I wish I had a puffy vest.

But I do have:

Soy smoothies.

A library card.

A bright orange t-shirt with a tiger on the front.

No complaints. 

Sometimes, when I'm blasting tunes, I wonder if my neighbors judge me based on my taste in music. 

I hope they do.

Protocol.

I feel like this is a math equation, the hard kind.

2 people + 2 weeks(dating) - one family tragedy = ?

Or maybe a word problem. "Sally is dating a boy. Something bad happens in the boy's life. Sally hears about it from the boy's ex girlfriend. If Sally's heart is in the right place, how many apples does Sally have?"

Naturally I want to be there for him, but all I really know about him is what he does with his tongue when he kisses. And honestly, how good of a comforter am I anyway?

I show up to work no earlier than 9:05 now. My psychology professor would call that passive aggressive behavior.

I went to visit boy at his place of work.

We talked for three hours.

This is too easy.

I'm bored.

(Yum)

Tonight CW and I went to get cupcakes at a gourmet cupcake shop in the Hipsterville section of the city. I ate my feelings, and my feelings were chocolate.

Now I'm floating around my apartment tidying things- is there any greater fear than the fear you experience right before your first hang out (modern day speak for "date")?

Weird lady riding public transportation with us kept going to hold on to the pole, then letting go, and reaching for it again. She gave me a suspicious look, like it was HER pole, and how dare I hold on to it as well. Crazy paranoid urbanite.

She got off at the Harvard stop. 

Just sayin.

Last night Rhodes, Nantucket and I went to our favorite Thai restaurant.

Here is, verbatim, the post-dinner conversation between my two (semi-deaf) friends.

"Oh man, I'm so full."

"That's why you need an alpaca sweater."

I work at the admissions office. It seems appropriate, then, that I begin this blog with an admission:

I spike my coffee every morning.