aliens

I had a realization this morning. What would DDR play like if people had 4 legs, like aliens? Of course, you'd think having 4 panels would be too little, but there's a game called Dance 98.6 or something by Konami that uses 2 arrows only. Kind of for beginners. But what kind of movements would there be? It would be interesting to try doing Double (the 2-pad mode) on my hands and feet and see what the result is. (Not without something to protect my wrists first, of course.)

I don't like when people call me psychotic or desperate, even if it's meant to be light. But I just realized my Facebook status (where I got called the latter) might make some feel rather defenseless. You're applying to 17 grad-schools?? What?? Well, I didn't intend to do alarm with my status, but I guess that can serve as my fuck-you to this school for this semester, where I basically felt defenseless and alien the whole time. What a piece of shit semester. But now I'm out of the muck, stronger. Thanks God (like Lola said in the Tanks video) for Thanksgiving break. I feel pretty fucking invincible.

Plus I finally started gaining weight. I don't know how that happened, considering I ate an average of 2.3 meals a day over break (compared to the usual 3) and only 2 meals today. They weren't much bigger meals than usual either. But yeah, all the working out is finally starting to show.

I feel bold. Well, no, I don't feel bold. I guess I feel more refinedly vocal. Man, that last slice of whole wheat bread tasted uneventful.

I'm meeting with this kid who wants to study in the study abroad program I had in Paris on Thursday. He got my name from the local program director and wanted to hear my feedback. This should be entertaining, and I say that with a touch of positivity rather than the usual negativity you'd hear in that statement. People are really tired right now and aren't hearing positivity in anything though. So they don't catch my positive tone. But this is where I wage war. Finals time. And my force is larger than 300 (Hz) so don't worry. Well, by wage war I mean "have fun." Wage war sounds bad.

By the way, really waging war isn't fun. It's stupid. And this kid who I was friends with up until 9th grade when we just didn't hang out with each other anymore, well, I heard he's joining the army. Why?

I realize now that I guess it's because his father (grandfather?) was in the Air Force. That doesn't mean you have to continue the cycle.

As I fully intend NOT to do. My father and my grandfather both spent time in the armed forces. My granddad was a WWII vet. My dad's a Vietnam vet. Thank God he got kicked out of the navy for being a shitty officer.

I am not being an Iran vet. Man, I hate how the anti-war left has been muted by Obama. YOU COULD PROTEST THESE THINGS BEFORE THEY HAPPEN THIS TIME!!!

Yeah that's how I spit it. Peace

Moon of dreams

Alex got rejected tonight. Fail.

You know, my sister and I have a lot in common, or at least we're starting to have more in common or I'm starting to realize it more. I don't know. But we have this thing where we start talking out loud to ourselves and others in third person when things feel awkward or we're feeling down.

We also have a common loneliness. I gave her a pep talk tonight about college before I went to a Halloween dance and got rejected after dancing real close with this one guy, who I basically went to the entire party for. Fuck this

My patience is killing me. I probably shouldn't have waited this long to start dating or going on the prowl, although for obvious reasons it was a safer thing to wait. And besides, I didn't even wait the full period - in Paris I let that guard down and I slipped and fell. How was I supposed to know the road was slippery, though?

I have to be honest, right now I'm down for anything, no matter how quick the other guy wants to round the bases. But right now my OBP is .000, and when I got on, it was a reached-on-error both times.

Down for anything except being left for nothing.

At ease, brain.
At ease, heart.

Goodnight, moon.

Ghosts

When people turn into ghosts, you can't help but get the feeling you are one too.

To quote my friend's song,

they'll seek me in the country
they'll find me in the woods
they know that i'll keep running while they're up to no good
they'll know my name
yes they will know my name

Ghosts.

Haha, I just wanted to quote her song. She doesn't know I'm doing this, I love the song and I'm playing it right now.

But the sentence at the top is mine, and it's what I'm thinking about right now. I just damn felt like a ghost... these past two days.

Forget it.

Square one.

A familiar place. Just not on Tuesday mornings.

That motherfucker wouldn't call me back or take the time to choose between confirming and denying my facebook friend request, so I pulled the friend request. I should probably block him too, which I had to do in order to drop the request anyway.

I forgot that good love relationships probably don't start with a drunk moment. Doesn't matter who was or wasn't drunk. Of course he wouldn't call me back. But whatever happened to at least giving me the light of day?

Whatever. I don't have the time to wait for myself to feel needier and needier. Shithead.

Maybe in the morning my abstract algebra will solve itself...

until then, another Friday where I hope to receive love. Wait, I've got the time in the wrong order. Unfortunately, so does my imagination.

Can't wait for love... but why is it so hard to meet people who really want it? everyone needs it...

Well well

So many various things to do. And no real pattern to them except the arbitrary direction, in a world of 10+ dimensions, known as forward. Choose grad schools. Write essay for NSF scholarship. Make resume. Transfer credit. Study for, and later take GRE subject test. Choose a field that I'd like to specialize in (it will probably be functional analysis or something along those lines--functions are very, very fun, even when they get complex). Grade homework for an applied calculus class - it's 1:26 AM and I have to figure out how to do this and grade all of it and sleep, literally, a half-decent amount before 9:30. Write a summary in Japanese of a reading passage. Attend three classes tomorrow, including Pilates - I really hope I don't cramp up. And, the newest thing in my life, date guys.

Today I went for a quick date with a guy over lunch in between classes, and I just felt no vibe. He was intelligent, but the conversation was boring (when he said he didn't have a sense of humor or something like that - I swear he did - I was like uh), and he was cute but it wasn't enough to overcome me not having anything in common with him. So when he asked me a few hours on Facebook if he wanted to do something later this week I basically replied telling him I wasn't interested, really carefully because he was a really nice guy and it was just a question of compatibility.

I met this guy (well, we weren't even introduced) through eye contact at a karaoke event and he facebook-found me. Luck of the people who wear Irish shirts even though they're not Irish? Maybe I should keep doing that.

I have a bad feeling this semester's schedule is unsustainable, though. I'm thinking of dropping my Nonlinear Dynamics/Chaos class (9:30 tues wednes and fri, ugh, and the class isn't completely easy) and replacing it with the C++ class that I'll need to take (ok, I could take something else but only if that's possible to find) for the math major. Or drop one of the PE classes. Dropping something is necessary (excepting wrangling with the dean to up my course load to 6 full classes, the two PE classes I'm taking count half) to get the C++ class in. If I don't, I have to take it next semester along with 2 other classes, which would prevent me from studying part-time (2 classes or less), which is much, much cheaper. But the question is - is that worth the stress? Or does that argument even make sense if I'd be dropping one of the classes?

I don't know. I'll find out I guess. I don't enjoy programming, though, so I can't imagine it being more fun than Chaos, but I have to do it eventually.

Shiiiit. So much variousness to contend with.

I want to sleep more, dammit. How, why does everyone act so superhuman here? I guess getting drunk a lot will help you overcome the embarrassment barrier. Maybe. I can't seem to drink on campus without getting depressed later and being unable to sleep, though. Alcohol is, after all, a depressant.

I guess I'm on fire in some ways, but I'm wary of my health becoming worse because of a schedule that would be unsustainable without me taking it out on my health, weight training, pilates and all. And the supposedly dangerous swine flu is supposedly going to strike.

I'm listening to a song from freshman year, back when life was simplest. It's not actually a song released that year, but I put it in my playlist that year for sure when a certain someone's younger brother gave me a compilation disc entitled "SONGS FOR WOMEN 2." Man, my back hasn't really felt right since about a week and a half before school started. Might wanna see someone about that. If time were there (er, thinking in Japanese).

That just gave me a thought in Japanese.
時間があると、時間が存在しないようになる人。そんな人を探しているかもしれない。
A person where, upon his having time, "time" seems to no longer exist. That's the kind of person I'm looking for, maybe.

It's too late for me to be having these thoughts, though. But only tonight is it too late.

The break of dawn

I guess there is a reason that I'm back to where I was a year ago at this time, scratch that, a year and a month ago. I was waiting for the next thing to happen, sitting up at my computer searching for my soul. But not really. Now I feel closer to it. After not listening to it in December I've learned the hard way that sometimes you really need to just listen to your heart. Heart and soul, heart or soul, whatever. That's why I started a whole new blog called "heart freewrites" [/plug]; to address the subject. And to really get closer to what I'm feeling inside, so that the artist in me can recover and fill me up with spirit again. Not just any spirit. Not spirit absorbed from elsewhere. Not spirit absorbed from doing many various things. In Paris people just did what was there and they were like do whatever and you'll be happy because you're in Paris. It's not about the spirit of the city. It's about your spirit deep inside. And mine wasn't feeling the city landscape and lifescape of Paris.

Sometimes when I listen to music I hear more when it's at a lower volume. Why is that? Because I'm hearing partially what I want to hear. And that leads me to a deeper concentration. There's a big problem nowadays in that "hearing what you want to hear" has a negative connotation. Sometimes you need to hear yourself out. In fact always you need to hear yourself out. It's probably said that the news media only tells people what they want to hear. Well, no, I think people want to hear a lot more and then get muted by the media. The media claims (I claim the right to think of "media" as a singular noun) an authority over knowledge and derives an authority over speech. It's this claim I can't stand and it's why I really can't stand listening to Fox News blaring from the TVs (wish it weren't plural) in the combined kitchen and living room area. It's just too much. Or it's been too much ever since, what, high school? Usually I could get along with all that noise. That's because I was really tuned into myself, I guess. But I never really spoke out what was on my mind.

I fear for the day when I really feel the need to speak out what's in my heart at a time where it doesn't fit to speak out. Or do I fear that day? Maybe not anymore. High school was such a scarier time. Then again, many things were scary when I was abroad. Even in Japan I was constantly in action, which is probably why I couldn't ever find the time to relax and completely contemplate what I should do whether to go back for another semester or go to Paris.

At least I have the time to relax now. Time to end the stress of the previous semesters and to prepare for the oncoming onslaught of the ones that'll follow. Even if the courses aren't too hard I know I'll make them hard for myself, so I've gotta prepare. Luckily I've put two phys-ed classes on the table, and those will force my brain to take a backseat and beg for attention. My brain probably has too many useless nerve cells that have all been firing, it's like the parts of your immune system that overfire and cause allergic reactions. An internal firestorm. Not cool.

And I'm learning ways to have fun again. Or having fun again, rather, on my own. That's an important step I'm finally taking. Letting my hair down. When your hair's been fired up from the electric shock that's conducted by the magnetic field created by the exciting environments around you plus your own excitement, you need to work really hard to get it down or reduce the field. And I have completely lessened the field now, though it probably required going to the hospital and experiencing a fair amount of pain for nearly a week now to do that. But yeah, looking forward to a summer of video games and some homework and classes. Right now I can't stop myself from trying to study Japanese and make good DDR steps. But the key to studying Japanese and making DDR steps that are actually good is to enjoy it, unleash your imagination and let it out to run free. And do ridiculous shit.

About three years ago when I had to memorize the verb "oriru" which means "to get off" as in "to get off a train or a bus," I memorized it by telling myself that "rire" means "laugh" in French and that this verb is funny because it makes me think of the sexual sense of "getting off" and that wouldn't be good on a train either, and that thought makes me laugh. So I remembered the verb, and when I forgot it, I remembered the trick. Awesome.

So Mark Bellhorn's batting about .284 in AAA. This is a sign that things are on the up, for me, for the baseball world, for the world. Go Bellhorn!

And I'm getting off. oriru

A little 'write to help me focus

Sometimes you just need to let things melt together.

The expression you could alternate with that is "blur together," but that isn't as encouraging of a story. Then everything is blurry. Here's what happened when I let things melt together today.

Actually, they didn't. They just melted without me. "They" being the butter cookies with a layer of chocolate on top of them that my host mother bought and left in the kitchen, and probably in some bag before that. They're just cheap supermarket cookies that I will probably be buying a whole lot of before I go back.

They melted together. And then at first I tried to separate each cookie with a knife, but it didn't really work. It was as though each section separated by plastic of 3 cookies were meant to be 1 big cookie. I ended up eating the big evolved (think Pokemon) version of the cookie after separating the 1st cookie awkwardly from the other 2, so I guess that's only ⅔ (don't you love how that's a character? I had to look it up on Wikipedia so I guess there's no numpad code for it, if there is one I've forgotten it). But it tasted... like heaven. It tasted like a s'more. Without the awkward marshmallow that disturbs your mouth with a sense of buoyancy. Incredible. I want more.

If life gives you a s'more, though, should you deconstruct it in your head and then figure out that you should just go out and buy butter cookies (or graham crackers) and a chocolate bar and voilà? No, not always... there's not always enough time for that. But it's cool to have the idea.

Hey, I was just listening to ABBA (not everything in life has to have a transition either) and it's a song that they recorded but ended up as one of their least known unreleased tracks because whoever wrote it in the group decided to take an idea out of it for a song that later became a single and that's quite different and more uptempo, "Under Attack," but with a message not really more upbeat. Anyway the track is called "Just Like That," and it goes like this:

Just like that
As though he'd only stopped awhile for a chat
But my secrets he learned
Leaving no stone unturned

Or you could write it as prose, like this:

Just like that, as though he'd only stopped awhile for a chat, but my secrets he learned, leaving no stone unturned

It sounds familiar. It sounds like I'm more willing to play with things now, though. If that's one thing I've learned from Paris it's a good thing. I mean if there's one good thing I've learned from Paris it's that. Look at me, playing around with freewrites again...

Well, someday the sun will dawn for me. You know, that expression. That one. I think freewriting needs a Filipino emphasis de-notation. Wow, I can't write. Berry good. Berry an ah ah ah

A freewrite at least doesn't really need a conclusion...

And it occurs to me...

And it occurs to me that high school might have given me a fear of being alone. Or maybe this is just how nature makes us, how things are. "Nobody wants to be alone" is a phrase I've often heard, and which I believe was repeated to me in sympathy for my recent situation. But I know, or at least it seems to me, that a lot of people operate very well for very long amounts of time being alone. I don't, and not even for short amounts of time. It's a Thursday night, the day before a national holiday, and part of me is complaining that my housemates didn't tell me they were going out, because I happened to have my door closed for 20 minutes or so because one of my housemates' tobacco scent was wafting down the hall from his room to mine and that was annoying so I closed the door. Wow, what a great sentence. But you see, I am also complaining in my mind that none of my (almost entirely female) friends are out doing something tonight. In Japan they almost always would be or at least I'd know why if they weren't. Communication isn't as fluid here; there's no real good central hang-out spot where everybody meets and talks, no great meeting place for a small community. Here it's very much unlike Japan; I think my Paris program's designed that way. And I think it backfired, because a lot of the people here aren't that happy with it or at least seem that way. That's what happens when you don't adequately prepare social events when you know there's going to be a massive strike that will last forever.

And yet I'm not sure whether this is me or what, the person who doesn't like to be alone at all. Who likes to stick out but doesn't want to be left out of the bunch, or left without a fellow comrade outcast. But just now I got cheery for a couple of seconds about being alone and said to myself, hey, they're all working on something, I'll work on something too, and enjoy it! Because when I work I generally never enjoy it. So I decided I'd work on a DDR file. Looked for graphics, then when the time came to pick one of the images, got tired. Went and did something else. Started doing Japanese, which I'm not afraid of doing and is generally a fast process (it was very much so in Japan, at least... haha)... got tired of that. Looked at an art history book, got tired of the thought of how boring reading books in French about old stuff is (no matter what level of "masterpiece" the said stuff is), stopped that. Thought about reading Nerval, got annoyed at the stricken nature of the class and how I'm way behind in it even though it's not really in session, didn't do that. In short, I got tired really quickly of the individual work in each case and stopped and started wanting to do something fun--with other people.

This might mean that whenever I do work, I overwork myself. In other words, my brain wants to do more work than, uh, my brain can take. So it starts and, uh, shorts. I think maybe there's something to that. My brain might be out of shape. In other words, fully capable, but only in short bursts. Short bursts are generally what's required in this world of soundbytes, though. So it wouldn't be any wonder if that's just how it turned out that way.

But that's why, when I go to museums like the museum of Gustave Moreau, I just don't feel in touch with it at all. By "it," I guess I mean the general spirit. Gustave Moreau was a painter who made a museum out of his house for his close to 500 paintings (I think 500) and even more drawings and sketches as the final project of his life. I definitely was down with Moreau for how he left the majority of what he did unfinished; I can understand that for sure (my DDR box is filled with unconstructed Legos, so to speak). But with the general nonstop focus, determination, and work ethic? No! Why didn't he ever go outside? (Well, I mean, more often.) Where was the fun in his life? The doubt? If there was doubt, why did he just work through it? That's a funny question, actually, but it's probably what the one my subconscious wants to ask. How can you just ignore doubt with things like, am I spending my life all right if I spend this much time doing what I'm doing?

Maybe he just really loved it. And still I wonder how I could become or whether I should ever be that impassioned. And I'm back to an earlier question again, an earlier doubt.

No wonder he worked on. Leave your doubts behind you, pave the way.

The sunday

The back of the room is passively lighted by a round globe lamp, supposedly Japanese style, hanging at the top of the room, too distant to illuminate anything important. The fingers on this laptop do the work of the unworked brain, tapping away as the small thing of Japanese perfumed hand cream does not sit flat on the table, slightly elevated by a piece of plastic with no apparent use. An umbrella hangs from the table, nothing to do. Another lamp, silver and this one perched on the ground, stares blankly into a blank wall with an invisible expression of blankness, nothing apparent of issue. Two sneakers that could be hugging the wall are instead positioned as though they were ready to run into the desk in front of it. Atop this desk sits the laptop.

It is a Sunday, very late. 10:15 PM. Any much later and it's bedtime, a time less silent than this, when the sound of the Paris subway train can be heard rumbling through the floorboards, onto the soundboard of the bed with no headboard. Nobody is around. If people are alive and nobody is there to see it, well, yeah. And how easy is it to trust other people's viewpoints?

Sound enters from somewhere. A door opens, another closes. In Germany arguments are in session, doubtless unfriendly ones. In Paris the city sleeps, dreaming about an end to all strikes and to all of Sarkozy and his enemies. Supposedly university students have done work on this day, the pre-ordained Sabbath. No evidence of this can be found on the Internet, although everything else displays itself in glittering charm or simplicity. It all claims to save time while it ticks precious moments away. Actually, sometimes it makes precious moments happen. Either way, the thought of the Internet being a time-saver is irrelevant now in this room.

A white box. Black hieroglyphics upon it. Illumination from half-white light. A scene of doubt. A scene of hidden trepidation, perhaps? From one eye, a scene of boredom. From another, a scene of the desperate unknown.

This is every Sunday in Paris.

(Luckily, there are 6 other days in the week.)

Doctor Check

It's about time I saw a general doctor, one that could solve all my problems. Because they're all tiny, but they're just kind of there. And I might as well get them fixed while I'm young, or for the less permanent ones I should get them fixed as soon as possible. Let's start at my feet. The feet are the foundation, of course.

Foot 1 (左足, the left): Well, so one day I was being rather Filipino and I was dancing, mimicking my grandmother a little, and guess what, I brought my foot hard down upon one of the chairs in my kitchen and boom. Now my second toe on my left foot leans to the left side, which actually might have resulted in me cracking the third toenail when I had to stop suddenly in Carrefour (lousy French supermarket, they're all lousy though) because the soles of my shoes are all torn up. My dad told me I might as well get it fixed while I'm still young.
Foot 2 (右足, the right): Well, this one's different. You know how everyone has a callus on the outer side of their big toe? Well, I have that, plus this weird small bump where part of the surface hurts very, very much if I touch it. I think it's a "corn" but I don't really know what that is. My doctor could tell me. Would that be acceptable nowadays in the world of complicated-ass medical care management? Like, just during an appointment for something else that wasn't a medical checkup, like the next time I get an ear infection if there is one? Could I just phone in and ask? I'd be better off asking Rakesh's dad, actually. Or my mom. I remember her rubbing lotion on her feet when I was a kid, she probably knows everything about them. Actually, when I put that corn remover thing on it to see if it worked, well, it might've, because since then it has apparently gotten less severe. Well, let me put another one on. Okay, there.

(I put the thing on after typing "Okay, there.")

Mouth: So I got a gum infection right before I left Japan. I freaked out because I had no idea what it was, maybe a tumor??? Apparently not, since ever since I got back to Paris and used mouthwash it receded. My mom told me to still go find a dentist because that could lead to a blood infection, like the one that killed my uncle. Uh... I still haven't made the appointment. But the bump totally isn't there anymore. Still, it's been replaced with an awkward patch of "help, I'm trying to recover from bacterial invasion"... Also, ever since I returned from Japan in December it's happened to me 3 or 4 times that my jaw just starts hurting really badly around my tooth or something. This obviously comes from stress, but it's still a big question mark that I never went to see the dentist about. I just waited 'til it went away and it did, given more sleep. But still...

Mind: Ah, this is the freewrite part.

Where on earth am I? the ever repeating question. Is what I'm saying sincere? the other ever repeating question. Especially after everything that's happened here, it's become very important. Listen. I think that we all have some sort of act. Making jokes in itself is an act, no matter how small the joke is. And via that act or by playing that role you inevitably break someone's rule about what's honest, or what your role is. Maybe I'm just trying to defend myself from... myself, or a future opponent. But I have been thinking about this on and off. Oh, man, what was the thing I came up with?

I watched my housemate refuse to answer his phone twice when my other housemate (who was drunk) called him. The latter has the tendency to be aggressive when he's drunk, and it is annoying. Then housemate one, when housemate two came upstairs to greet us at Starbucks all of a sudden (to ask if we wanted to go eat dinner), proceeded to outright lie very easily and pretend like he had his phone in his bag the whole time, when he had just put it there. Then he went as far as saying he was just about to take the phone out of the bag to see if he got a call from housemate two. I don't know how good I feel about that. It didn't bother me as much as I thought it would, but honestly that's not the kind of person I could pair myself up with for life. Because I see some of that in myself, and I don't like it.

There's nobody you can really trust to tell yourself if you're being honest except yourself. Check that, there's nobody you should really trust. Friends can help you out, but from then on you have to solve the problem, or they'll call you for plaigarism on the exam. Your own solution, please. I guess that's how I feel about my approach to the question and what I've learned about answering it.

Is what I'm saying even understandable about being honest or why there's a question about it or vague spots? I guess what I'm saying is that if you seek a doctor, he won't necessarily tell you the right answer, but you should still go. Just as people around you won't necessarily give you the right advice, but it helps to talk about it. But talk needs to be followed by an action.

Next time I'll be the one who takes the action first.

Longing. Shorting

I guess all I wanted was to be forgiven - for it to be acknowledged that I did something wrong and to be forgiven. It was never acknowledged that I did something wrong. Now it is, oh boy, and I won't be forgiven for awhile. Does that ever happen to you?

I'm waiting for my flight to Japan. I have a complicated enough situation to explain that I might not be permitted to enter, or re-enter, that is. My student visa wasn't crossed out - why not, guys? It's not valid anymore; I'm not enrolled at a Japanese university. So I'm gonna have to explain that, plus the fact that I want to return so soon for a vacation. Plus that I'm staying over my (non-Japanese) friend's house whose address I wrote down and then forgot to bring. Ugh, horrible. Actually, the irony of it is that I might have thrown the paper in the art history notes that I packed.

This, my current situation where um I'm apparently never seeing or communicating with someone again, is probably good for me in the long run. But in the 3-month run it might not be very good. I'm hoping it is, though. But honestly I hate it when shit like this happens. This is only the second time in my life it's happened really. Did he have to lose patience with me? I'm still angry about it. Told him I'm a different person when I'm tired, but he forgot... whatever, we'd only ever met up like 7 times. How can you understand or know a person after only having seen them 7 times? You can't.

That's why this feels like it ended so prematurely. I guess it's really over.

This is so fucking lame I can't believe I'm still thinking about it. No wonder I was so good academically senior year and so bad at college interviews despite the preforeseen, almost obligatory senior slide: I had to turn to something, and academics were there. Now they're not the only thing, I'm glad. The bad at college interviews part, though... I don't think that would be a problem nowadays. Luckily a lot of grad schools don't care for interviews. They care for essays, though...

But since I care about my future and I've had it with this bullshit, well, I'm angry, and I'm going to do something about it this time around.



This is kind of the way in which I was typing that night. Fuck Internet communication. Fuck any communication that isn't face-to-face. It just doesn't work if you aren't close enough people and nobody understands each other that way.

But that doesn't mean you can't be understanding and considerate. Unbelievable. He'd had enough of that, I guess. And now, me too.

It's done. And I will hopefully sleep this whole plane flight. If he could see how tired I was now... I would punch him in the face.

A house of plastic

I don't consider my house to be a house of plastic; I don't apply that metaphor to it. But I consider it the image of something that could be.

I saw a clear, plastic bag full of varied plastics that had been assembled by general entropic use and readied, tied up, for recycling. I imagined a scene where we had to bury the plastics ourselves in our own backyard, for whatever reason. Difficult to imagine. Then I imagined if we kept them in our own house to see the effect of our own recycling. I imagined a whole room, a whole hallway, a whole house of recyclables.

How many houses of that have we created, since I was born?

In a way, we are a world of throwing out. We spit, snot, sneeze each day (well, I wouldn't want to try going a whole day without doing any of the three) and use the toilet, and aside from the bodily wastes we get ideas out of the way, get stress out of the way by sleeping and think about chores, and so on. It goes on, of course, and of course it doesn't help that I've got so much to do right now, like emailing 5 people, no, 6, and seeing my advisor and all of that stuff. But it's time to throw in. Myself. Into this mess, instead of seeing it all go to waste.

I always had trouble understanding why in laser tag you get rewarded for bad offense way more than for good defense, when I was a kid at least. But of course it wouldn't be exciting otherwise.

And I've drifted away from the house of plastic, right? No, no matter what I do, I'm still going to be throwing out a bajillion things a day, so I might as well clear these things too, even if I don't manage to sink the shot into the garbage bin perfectly.

As I didn't on this freewrite, really. But somewhere you have to end things.