disjointed, again

Simultaneously, very little and a lot is happening. (How's that for cryptic-cakes?)

The apartment above mine is being renovated by two men, possibly chinese, who spend a lot of time dropping things, yelling at each other while sitting on the porch, and listening to music that to my untrained ear sounds like an opera singer getting in a fight with an angry cat.

I've been reteaching myself Algebra on my study dates with Hips, and I'm loving it. It makes me want to try to take another class, something with more facts and less self-importance. (I dropped out of the proofreading class, because I could not handle the man 'teaching' the class.)

Actual conversation:

Teacher: Does anyone know the difference between sans serif and serif?
Me: Yes. Serif is the little pointy bits on the ends of letters.
Teacher: There's a more technical word for them.
Me: Yes, serifs.

But the CCAE sent me another catalog, and I'm still drawn to both decoupage and german (and the cooking with strawberries one-shot).

I'm beginning to wonder if the celexa is zombifying me, or if I've just decided that this particular season of my life is best weathered by a little bit of emotional hibernating. Both make sense, and I can't tell if either should worry me.

I'm also at one of those awkward moments where I can't tell how I'm supposed to be acting socially. And that's sort of the story of my life, but it definitely has moments of flaring where I start doubting, or feel like I've slipped and accidentally fallen into a high school frame of mind (my gratitude for having gotten out of highschool before email/livejournal/cellphones became things to be worried about knows no bounds) and can't tell if I've done some mysterious thing wrong, or am failing to read some obvious-to-everyone-else signal.

But for now, I'll clean and read and try to keep taking advantage of living someplace where all sorts of stuff happens. Light and I ushered a performance of The Tempest last weekend, but bailed out at intermission because our seats meant we could only actually see the upper left quandrant of the action, which strangely enough, the play was not good enough to make worth it. Next week, I'm contemplating attending a poetry reading at Passim, and I'm pretty sure I want to attend pretty much all of this http://www.CambridgeScienceFestival.org. Fortunately Light shares that last desire.

disjointed, again

Simultaneously, very little and a lot is happening. (How's that for cryptic-cakes?)

The apartment above mine is being renovated by two men, possibly chinese, who spend a lot of time dropping things, yelling at each other while sitting on the porch, and listening to music that to my untrained ear sounds like an opera singer getting in a fight with an angry cat.

I've been reteaching myself Algebra on my study dates with Hips, and I'm loving it. It makes me want to try to take another class, something with more facts and less self-importance. (I dropped out of the proofreading class, because I could not handle the man 'teaching' the class.)

Actual conversation:

Teacher: Does anyone know the difference between sans serif and serif?
Me: Yes. Serif is the little pointy bits on the ends of letters.
Teacher: There's a more technical word for them.
Me: Yes, serifs.

But the CCAE sent me another catalog, and I'm still drawn to both decoupage and german (and the cooking with strawberries one-shot).

I'm beginning to wonder if the celexa is zombifying me, or if I've just decided that this particular season of my life is best weathered by a little bit of emotional hibernating. Both make sense, and I can't tell if either should worry me.

I'm also at one of those awkward moments where I can't tell how I'm supposed to be acting socially. And that's sort of the story of my life, but it definitely has moments of flaring where I start doubting, or feel like I've slipped and accidentally fallen into a high school frame of mind (my gratitude for having gotten out of highschool before email/livejournal/cellphones became things to be worried about knows no bounds) and can't tell if I've done some mysterious thing wrong, or am failing to read some obvious-to-everyone-else signal.

But for now, I'll clean and read and try to keep taking advantage of living someplace where all sorts of stuff happens. Light and I ushered a performance of The Tempest last weekend, but bailed out at intermission because our seats meant we could only actually see the upper left quandrant of the action, which strangely enough, the play was not good enough to make worth it. Next week, I'm contemplating attending a poetry reading at Passim, and I'm pretty sure I want to attend pretty much all of this http://www.CambridgeScienceFestival.org. Fortunately Light shares that last desire.