It hit me...

One can regress.  I've heard of it.  I've seen it (sort of).  I've never actually experienced it.  I am now sitting in my old room.   While I've attempted to make it 'my own,' I can't shake the feeling that Zach Braff knows his shit.  Ask my MR F- a turtle once lively, now clinging to his rock with one webbed foot, head tucked to avoid the truth.  He knew long before I did that this was not the plan.

Only back for three hours and I was forced to question: "what the hell happened to Drive 105?" "Everything slowed down right- I'm not just imagining it (the man at the stop light looked at me, alone in the U-Haul in Rogers, put up his window, and drove away without answering)" "Wait, so Reba McIntyre remade a Kelly Clarkson song?" "How is it everything there changed and nothing here did (except Drive 105)?" and my personal fave  "Are those people walking their dog while drinking beer (they were)?"

I've gone to OCB.  Watched Zodiac.  Done so much laundry I'm urinating Tide.  My internal song has changed to some horrid jesus song that I heard four times today- yes it took me four times to realize it was the same damn song.  Had my hair dyed.  Read a bit of Harry Potter... 
Not one homeless person has accosted me.  I have not had photos thrown at my head.  No more free food from Loyola.  My crushes are slowly dissipating.  No drunken random nights of debauchery.  I haven't had to feign pleasantries with other leasers- and their nasty little children...

In the bubbles of his tank, MR F, just etched with one claw, 'polymath.' Whether he meant I'm suppose to find one or I AM the one is still yet to be determined- for the time being I'm choosing the latter.

Today I baked the kind of cake you can sleep in- no lie.

Currently Listening Junkie Faithful By The Ike Reilly Assassination see related

Tossing some throwing stars your way

Last night I fell asleep the same way for the second time in my life (the only variance being I was not intoxicated).  While I dozed, my almost lifeless body began to ponder a new day.  Oh it tried, desperately clinging to new thoughts- the giant spider (think IT, but smaller) I ravaged in my bathroom with an oversized bottle of lotion, the urban hang gliding just to get a better view of Mpls, Me with a pregnant belly and one M. Saxton kissing it while calling it Jr. (this may have been the most terrifying), the rave that took place in my bathroom- I think I did coke or pixie sticks, the point and shoot digital Nikon I bought for $25 that kept floating in any out of the night- while these new thoughts were offensivefunnydownrightunheardof, they were not successful (I should have been intoxicated).  I woke up the same way I fell asleep last night- and usually I would list every affliction waving red over my entire being, but I won't.  It won't fix it.  It won't stop it. 

Yes it's difficult to give up breathing underwater as my superpower, but folks, I think for projectile vomiting on command you would do it too (I promise it will never be on you- maybe someone you're friends with, but never you). 

Who the hell informed guys that the way nab a girl is to invade her personal space with their bony ass elbows- while it's usually in the side, it can also be the span of her entire arm, stomach, shoulder... just... invasion. of. personal. space.  AND THEN....  just when she is thinking, "Christ.  This is becoming annoying," they go one step further.  Touching your thigh. With. The. Side. Of. Their. Hand and or Pinkie finger.  LIKE THE ENTIRE ROOM CAN'T SEE YOU SLOWLY ATTEMPTING TO MAKE A MOVE?  LIKE THEY CAN'T SEE THE GIRL SLOWLY TILTING AWAY FROM YOU?  If by some miracle she doesn't flee the situation- my option- then she was A) horribly intoxicated  B)  Is unintelligent  C) has some sort of STD and is hoping to give it to you....  god dammit.