what I did on my Christmas vacation

spent time with my family:










read:













played:








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"Bones are patient. Bones never tire nor do they run away. When you come upon a man who had been dead many years, his bones will still be lying there, in place, content, patiently waiting, but his flesh will have gotten up and left him. Water is like flesh. Water will not stand still. It is always off to somewhere else; restless, talkive, and curious. Even water in a covered jar will disappear in time. Flesh is water. Stones are like bones. Satisfied. Patient. Dependable. Tell me then, Alobar, in order to achieve immortality, should you emulate water or stone? Should you trust your flesh or your bones?"

Alobar stared at the lama and said nothing. After several minutes, the lama hat asked him why he remained silent. "Water babbles to stone," Alobar said, "but stone will not answer."

-Jitterbug Perfume

waiting takes too long

When I got home from work today, there was a small, brown box in my mail slot. It looked like a box of new checks, but I didn't remember ordering any new checks.

As I examined the box closer, I saw it was from my aunt in New York. Fantastic!

She even used Wilma Rudolf stamps.


For just one moment I thought, "I should wait to open this until Christmas." But the thought left as quickly as it came, and I started ripping open the box as I ran up to stairs to my apartment. It was a gold and purple box. Using my finger nails I pealed away the tape, and opened it...

Oh my.

How exciting.

I love Christmas.
I love suprises.
I love my aunt for sending me maple candy.

Perfectly pressed into the shape of maple leaves, I could hardly handle the pleasure. It melted in my mouth. The best thing would be to ration this treat?

Only five pieces: one each day for the next five days.

No. Its only been two hours and I only have two pieces left.

my friends tell me you're bad news, but I don't care I like you

Its only 7:30am. Its Sunday. Sunday is funday. I can’t have funday today. I’ve got to study. I should sleep some more. The number one method of interrogation is sleep deprivation. If I don’t get enough sleep I won’t be able to remember the things I study. I’ll fall apart. Maybe if I stare at the ceiling my eyes will get tired and I will fall asleep again.

This is not working. Maybe if I close my eyes and try to think about nothing and lay really still.

This is not working either. It is ten. I have to get up. This is ridiculous. I am hungry.

I’ll study at Mona’s over pancakes and coffee...

I can’t study here its too loud. I’ll just pretend to study so I look cool. Sitting alone at breakfast on Sunday is not cool. If I look like I am studying then maybe people won’t notice I am alone.

I need to do some Christmas shopping. Tattered Cover is around the corner. I should buy people books for Christmas.

This is a cute journal. My little niece will love it. She will begin writing early. It will help her cope with life and being a teenager. All her struggles and awkwardness will dissolve in the pages of the journal her older, cooler aunt from Colorado bought for her for Christmas. I’ll write the first entry for her. “Use this to write all your thoughts…how much you hate your mom or the boy you think is cute, etc.”

The new Vonnegut book! Perfect. My cousin lives in Cape Cod. Vonnegut lives in Cape Cod. She should read his work. I don’t think she will appreciate it. Maybe she will. Maybe she will read it and be inspired and have a great revelation about how life is more than being a flight attendant and wearing the cool new sweater from Banana Republic. Maybe she already knows this and I should give her more credit. No. Vonnegut needs to help her. But I better read a couple pages to make sure its not too much for her.

“A snarf is someone who smells the bicycle seats of girls.”

Too much! She will read that sentence and never finish the book. Then I will be $24 poorer for no good reason. Vonnegut probably moved to Cape Cod because its such a beautiful place and only about 10% of the population would know who he is.

Oh god. Its almost noon. I am just stalling now. I have to study.

My apartment smells funny.

I am going to put this xaviar girl sticker on my snowboard. Right on the front so I can look at it as I am riding down the mountain. It looks really cools. Those girls are cool. I wish I could be as cool as them. I want to learn how to olllie. If I could ollie I could skate like them. I need to learn how to ride with my front foot on the board. Dave wants to go skating. I want to go skating. Today is funday. I should go skating, but I really should study.

Paul’s on the phone.

No. I can’t go have brunch. I already ate. I have to study. I can’t study at my apartment. Its too messy. And it smells funny. I should take a shower. I smell funny. Okay. I’ll meet you at the Monkey Bean.

I wonder if people could hear everything I thought if they’d tell me to shut up.

I should write a post about this.

how do these things happen to me?

misadventures of duct tape and luccy

My fortune cookie last night:

"set high goals"

I've heard this before. On Monday, someone told me "aim high because you're going to miss."

ping-pong balls and tacos

I burned my dinner. Two blackened waffles are sitting on fire escape.

I was hungry and thought it might be nice to have something to eat. Much to my demise, the combination of hunger and loneliness diminished my attention span.

I got bored…

So I thought I might read a bit while the waffles were in the toaster. I started reading and forgot about the waffles.

Now my apartment is fill with smoke, and my belly remains empty.

This is what I was reading:

Seeking some kind of understanding, though, I find myself seeking out others mangled by bizarre familial machinery, those whose parents are dead, or dying, at least divorced—hoping that these people will know what I know, and thus will not hassle me about the details, about give and take, about my contributions. Toph-wise, if, as we paw each other on the cough in the burgundy living room after Toph has gone to asleep, she wants to stay the night, and does not understand why she cannot, does not understand why Toph must not wake up to see random people sleeping in his brother’s bed, she is too young and unthoughtful and does not appreciate the importance of creating for Toph as simple a childhood as possible, and so she is not seen again. If she does not know how to talk to Toph, if she treats him like a hearing-impaired dog or worse, like a child, she is not seen again and is made fun of with Beth, …If she brings Toph something, for instance a pack of new Ping-Pong balls, the need for which she somehow gleaned, then she is a good person, not a bad one, and she is loved unconditionally. If she comes over for dinner and actually eats our version of tacos, without all the ludicrous shit people usually put in them, she is a saint and is welcome anytime.

This intrigues me. I go back and read it again and again.

If I could have just been there at that time I would have bought the ping-pong balls; I would have eaten the tacos. Things would have been wonderful. He would have understood my Toph-wise life and me his. The rules would have been assumed. (No…I don’t have a crush on David Eggers, I just have a similar hopeless romantic view of unspoken understandings in relationships.) I imagine its easy to love someone or just to be with someone who gets it. That way, time isn’t wasted by talking about things that should be understood. Instead it is used to have pleasurable conversations and heated debates followed by fantastic sex or comfortable silence over a cup of coffee and waffles on Sunday morning.