34 days

having been sick for a month has really brought my quality of life down, and that's most likely the last thing I need right now as I'm bolstering my brass balls for a gallant move across the country and trying to work as much as possible to pad my modestly furnished (to say the least) bank account. this morning upon waking up I became excited that I'd regained some of my voice and triumphantly only woke up 3 times during the night. only 3! stop the presses! flush that bottle of tylenol pm and burn your eye pillow! that's practically a full 5 hours!

part of the melancholy mood is my faulty immune system, and the other part could be seasonal affective disorder, but as the dawns break and sundowns fall, each day feels shorter and I am coming to terms with leaving san francisco. my main focus is that I want to let it go, rather than run away. I have some preconceived notions of how living in brooklyn will be, and some are so heartening and fresh, and then there is the one that I'm sure of, and that is that I will be lonely. I am at this moment, surprisingly calm about it. my maiden voyage to a new city all by myself is a rite of passage that will help me grow into the woman that I want to be, no matter who stands opposing my decision. I've heard discouraging remarks from people close to me under a paper thin veiled guise of "concerned friend", and that is disturbingly puzzling. what could someone possibly get out of instilling doubt and discouraging another person you care for from pursuing their dreams? at any rate, as chris so succintly summed it up, "it's all part of the plan", and I'm more than prepared to play defense.

in other news, I'm undersexed. I found myself scraping smart balance on my english muffin this morning thinking of funny euphemisms for sex having to do with spreadable condiments. then I immediately realized that the sexiest thing to happen to me in weeks was watching my hot roommate mop the kitchen in his beavis and butthead boxer shorts from the dining room with my hair sticking askew in several directions while sipping on my morning coffee. I unconsciously slipped into a steamy pine sol reverie. "you missed a spot," I'd say, "right over there. lower. loooowerrr.... right there! yes! YES! YES! don't stop... mopping!!! my god, you could just eat off of it!"

come to think of it, it seems that the kitchen is making me hot. that sort of makes sense because food and sex are right up there with air and water, although it would seem that no one quite gets enough of the latter. and also, do roommate rules still apply if you're leaving the state in a month? would it really be so harmful to pass a note under his door demanding that he meet me in the laundry room with cool whip and a butt plug at midnight?

I'm going to have to steal the batteries out of the remote, again.

"I like to use 'I can't believe it's not butter' on my toast in the morning, because sometimes when I eat breakfast, I like to be incredulous. 'how was breakfast?' 'UNBELIEVABLE!'"

-demetri martin