Last night, in cleaning my room, I pulled out my old journal and read some selections to my roommate/subletter. Unfortunately, the selections leaned to the mournful and frustrated realm of things. At a certain point she said that perhaps we shouldn't be reading them. Ha!

What is that feeling when you feel your heart smile? It's a form of love. It's not quite a pain. It feels like your heart has a big grin on it. You can just think of someone, and that happens.

My hands are dry and coconut milk is good.

Sexy.

I've spent a large percentage of the midday looking on craigslist for a second job. It's been a couple of months since I've dived into that pool of delight. I have to admit, though, browsing craigslist becomes slightly more palatable when you're not at the end of your rope finances-wise. I'm making it work, but I could just use a touch more income to perk things up a bit.

Nora needs her macaroons.

How does everyone feel about David Sedaris, Augusten Burroughs, and the like? Is the age of such humorists coming to a close? I wonder, what with the over-saturation of bloggers/bloggists/bloggos, do publishers even want to sign a humorist (sometimes called "memoir author" in order to gain credibility)?

Shout back!

Whatever happened to livejournal? Is blogger.com the adult, post-collegiate, and acceptable version of online blogging? I tried to do some research on this, but found nothing except that the most popular blogger in all of the world is a Chinese actress that we nothing about in the US. I suppose I could have done some more digging, but I simply lost interest.

So, here's a post to christen this new blog. Turns out I've had it since 2006, but I never activated it. The first post is rarely a doozey.