t-hole, a-dawg, and the yurt in 3...2...1...

*I'm really loving the 3..2..1 in reference to VT*

Things that happened today:

1) yoga-rokt da haus @ standing bow pose, HOLLA!

2) haircut-my hair smells delicious

3)(a) realization that "I <3 skinny boys with glasses" creates lots of awkward scenarios...everywhere I go.  I couldn't even compliment Dan at Rosa's on his socks because I'd have to cover up my shirt.  Nor could I comfortably ask the stock boy at Wegmans if he knew where the meringues were without grabbing a road atlas and holding it in front of my chest...so, basically, I'll be wearing that shirt all the time, because these are fun diversions.

3) (b) Speaking of which...Replace the German techno music with Ludacris in my head saying "REE-DIC-U-LOUS", Replace the silver lame' handkerchief shirt with my sweaty yoga clothes, Replace the German dance club with the corner of Ashland and Bryant, and Replace the oddly structured Irish soccer coach with the driver of a black camry, swiftly parked in my path.  11:22 am, you're a pet.

4) assembled a Friendly Picnic with none other than B. Blum before he shoves off to Australia and I shove off to VT (wait, did someone say 3 DAYS?! oh good, I thought so.) pesto, crusty bread, mozerella balls, bacon-juice, hummus, cherry limeade, "berry" shortcake, bulk candy, campell's soup thermouses (thermi?) (FROM LAST YEAR!!!)

5) performed a cooking show in my favorite kitchen with its graph paper wall paper and checkerboard floors and YELLOW chairs and marvelous sauce poster. (someone's itching for a colander!!!)

6) realized that Romeo and Juliet was cancelled, perched ourselves on the ledge of the A-Knox by those blinking lights, and proceeded to stuff our faces and, well, sew...until they turned the lights off on us... p.s., this blue and gold JL I'm wearing is love, especially that "P.Shredder" is stitched into the back collar, and "Harijuku" is stitched across the front in such a way that it reads "Harvard".  It also is soft, and it smells of fabric softener, which, apparently, is working.

7) sat in the front seat of the car, listening to track 7 on the frou frou CD.  just as Imogen Heap sang "I feel good all over", my stomach began to do flip-flops and I wanted to just jump out of the car and run around and laugh. (which I later ended up doing, but I digress...)  This reaction was brought about by the realization that, recently, I've rediscovered what it's like to feel pure, unadulterated happiness.  Honestly, I had forgotten what it felt like.  For the first time in four years, I could just feel HAPPY.  Nothing else.  There were plenty of times when I felt happy, I'm not going to even try to lie, but there was always something underlying that I couldn't put my finger on.  Something nagging, some undercurrent I couldn't get through.  Like a scrim.  Not every little seam of my life is flawless right now, nor will anyone's ever be.  That would be boring.  Ever since my mom plopped that book on HSPs in front of me, and ever since I've been able to relax and try new things and reorganize my mental self, finding out where I stand on things and allowing myself to react properly to things that happened this year. It's as though someone flipped a switch and turned on the lights for me and I can finally FINALLY start to see.  If I haven't been in touch with you lately or I haven't been the most hospitable or whatever you want to call it, it's because I've been focusing almost completely on making this happen for myself.  I've never done such a thing before, so It's time it did.  I'm taking some serious time to, just, make everything better, and I'm surprized to see how much everything is in my control.  It's sort of ironic, but that thought process, which is really me-centered, has made me appreciate those I love that much more, and I'm feeling more and more lucky and content.  So, thank you for your patience, if patience was required.  I'm needing a bit of time.

Before, I'd been wondering if there was a name for my reaction to the world.  The best way I can explain it is that every aspect of life for me is magnified.  I'm extremely uncomfortable around loud noises, when my clothes don't lie right on me, and in confined spaces.  I knew it wasn't OCD, because it wasn't as serious, but other than that, I thought I was just strange.  Details to me are everywhere and, as a previous entry stated, sometimes simply observing the world is exhausting.  Other people's moods REALLY affect me, I take some things personally, I analyze, I have a mental committee that always wants to tell me a better way of doing things, to an extreme degree.  Needless to say, it can be both a blessing and a curse.  Getting shots is a byach, while simply walking around the neighborhood in silence at night, taking it all in, is incredible.  My mom returned from the book store about a month ago, walked into a room I was in, and just plopped this book down in front of me.  It's called "The Highly Sensitive Person-How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You."  I opened it up, started reading, and was shocked.  It was as if this woman had been living in my head, reading my thoughts, transcribing them into convenient book form for me to read.  That started it all, and ever since then, I feel like I can breathe.  Apparently, 20% of the population is just like me, and we inherited it.  It's actually a neural thing.  I was sort of disappointed it didn't seem as fantastical/mysterious once the author broke it down scientifically, because it's been quite a trip, but I'm always going to have this and if you think you might be an HSP, talk to me.  I'll lend you my book.

Woo.  Thanks for reading all that. 

Tidbits, Moist tidbits, like Cat FoOd! "What was THIS?!" *Bows rapidly* "I dont KNOW! I'll take Uncomfortable for 100" "I'm a man of my word!" "he is just such a sweet heart! so professional and personable! and you can tell, he just loves you." "ooh man. well. if I were 25...HHHUH..." *silence, turn signal clicks in background* Mike, do not ever proceed to shout the words "CHOP CHOP PEOPLE! CHOP CHOP!" at my beloved staff and me while we're rapidly throwing together bread for a party of 28. Keep in mind that a 5'1'', curly-haired serving assistant with a lot on her mind on a Tuesday night, weilding a bread knife, is someone you do not want to mess with. I adore that Extreme Abstraction blinking light installation at the A-Knox and want to just lie on that ledge some night and watch it once they turn off the spotlights. Boo, I hope everything turns out allright.