"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


A Don Juan Disposition and a Panic Attack

Jumping right in:
Last. Week. Sucked. And then didn't suck, and then sucked again.

Oh sure, Monday and Tuesday were fairly uneventful (save for getting locked out of my house at 4a.m., but whatever). Wednesday was the worst. Ross and I broke up. For about a day, and that's about how long the argument lasted too. Don't worry your pretty little head about the details, but suffice it to say I won't be winning "girlfriend of the year" any time soon. We got to that point where you can't scream anymore because you've lost your voice, and you can't cry anymore because there's no moisture left in your body, so we invited a bunch of people over for our annual State of the Union (don't worry, folks, the irony was not lost) drinking game, and got hammered thanks to Mr. Bush, and his unwavering mispronounciation of the word "nuclear." As an aside, I think it was beyond awesome that PBS was playing a documentary on Auschwitz during and after the the speech, instead of the usual coverage and ensuing punditry. Also, NPR played Carmina Burana during the Super Bowl tonight. Someone loves me, but I digress.
So we fell asleep and woke up the next day as if not much had happened. Somewhere along the way we decided we were terrible at this breaking up thing, and decided to take another stab. Concessions were made, and I found a new living arrangement that's close by, so we can stop being married and start dating again. I have yet to actually move, but I am looking forward to it. My new house rocks, and even if I only spend a few nights a week there, it will be well worth it for having my own "space." Overall not a bad outcome, I suppose, but requiring some work, nonetheless.
Thursday was an entirely different matter. Major fucking breakthrough in my blowslot to the tune of finally figuring out a technique I'd been searching for over the course of three semesters. It is no end of frustrating to envision the work you want to make and be entirely unable to make it happen. And how shocking that it was that easy all along. I may actually turn out some work I can be proud of soon. Relating the extent of my exitement about this is proving difficult.
So the yin keeps a yinning until the yang decides to do its thing.

On less ponderous notes, I've recently become a born again Netflix subscriber, and got invited to Friendster, which I'd heard of but never really looked into. I can't imagine anyone reading this would be interested in friendster (especially since I thought it had it's 15 minutes two years ago), but if I'm wrong let me know and the invite's yours.

My birthday is in a few weeks and Midnight Sushi is in order. You have been warned.