Recent Entries Garion born; thinking of doing video logs - 2012-09-01 I'm married, I'm a prospective father, wow I never update - 2012-05-22 Got the job at the NIA; mother complicates wedding plans - 2011-10-13 Scrawl - 2011-08-05 It's never been better - 2011-06-02
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Antz and a time half forgotten (part 1 of 2) 2002-08-04 - 6:21 p.m. 
Ants have invaded our house. Generalismo Woody Allen is at the forefront of the little bastards, thorax out and Paxil in mandible. The bathroom, kitchen, even my 'work area' have felt the six legged march of revolution. No longer can I leave my power sized jamba juice containers alongside soda cans, themselves stacked to the heavens. The ants have finally wised up and no longer invade the outside fridge, only to meet death. They all seemed to collect in the egg holding wells for some reason. Misery loves company.Besides things crawling over me on occasion, I've been lazy and getting deeper into my rut. I've barely had the energy to look for jobs, mostly because I'm tired of searching and I'm already waiting for call backs from a few labs. You'll find this hilarious, but I've been trying to study up to get my driver's permit. I just never had the time between being nomadic and not having a car. Still don't have a car, but I figure I can get one soon with this bond money my father's family got me years ago. So, because of my incentive not to rat my father out to the feds for 13 years of unpaid child support, I'm just now studying the DMV manual. Done it 4 times before, but this time it counts. About the rut I've been in...this morning I hit a new low. I couldn't think about or feel anything, just sitting here. I realized I've been spending too much time worrying, being stressed out. I decided to walk the 6 blocks up Fallbrook to my old high school, hoping it might help me reach a catharsis. I felt like a spectre moving back toward the house it died in. Back then I was a student. I knew my role, what to do, what was expected. I walked down the same street I'd walked home to for four years. Condensed nostalgia filtered out like restaurant mist nozzles. The farther I walked down the more I recalled brief vignettes of memory. Every driveway and house I walked by was just as I remembered it with little changes. It seemed as if each one was a repository of some brief glimpse, some daytime half forgotten.
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