creepy thing from yesterday

As I was walking from the subway home yesterday, a man walked up to me on the corner, stopped dead in front of me, and held his hand up, palm facing me flat open and said, "How do," but it was indistinct, said with as little motion of the actual mouth as possible. He stared at me, I mean, really stared, eyes huge and wild, and I looked at him hard for a moment, because who the fuck would act like this if they didn't know you (and really, even if they did), but I couldn't even recognize him as a guy in the neighborhood. So I just said hello in a very sort of disturbed way and swerved around him. He didn't seem homeless, didn't smell of alcohol and didn't seem high, and the whole thing disturbed the hell out of me.

Meanwhile, I have an entire day without obligations today, and I don't even know what to do with it.

food porn

On my long list of things that I must do in Sydney is, of course, eat at expensive over-hyped restaurants, because that's one of those things in this life that gives me pleasure (also, I've a long and funny personal history with going to such restaurants alone and meeting really fascinating if somewhat alarming people in the process). Just perused the Bondi Icebergs menu (being the very definition of expensive and over-hyped) and there's a risotto involving seafood and pernod. Muahahaha.

Could I be more excited about this trip? I'm thinking not so much.

duh

Sometimes I'm stupid.

In the course of watching lots of Alexander stuff on Discovery Channel (which was significantly better than the Alexander stuff on History Channel, but not because Discovery Channel has their shit together so much as because History Channel really, really didn't), I realized something that no doubt when I comment upon it to Kat, will cause her to go, "I knew that. I thought you knew that," which is what generally happens when I have an insight about myself. At least my friends give me credit for being smart, as dubious an idea as that sometimes is.

For those of you that aren't only children, it's a common occupation among us (almost all only's I know find that their close friends are mostly only's as well, although that trait has become less pronounced for me as I've gotten older), to sit around and discuss whether we've ever longed for siblings. The answers range, widely, and elucidation on this subject by my ex- was always particularly vivid in a sincerely uncomfortable way (don't ask, merely bears noting for those here who know what I'm referring to).

For my part, I never wanted siblings. It didn't really interest me. It seemed a little troublesome and a little boring. Growing up I didn't tend to envy people who were actually existant and around me, so it was moot. It wasn't like I didn't want them either, I just didn't really generally care.

So here I am, all grown up, and what am I obsessed with through a series of relatively disparate things? Not, as most women who are thirty-two are, the mythical "work-life balance" that involves getting married, raising a family and being a corporate vice president. Oh no. I'm obsessed with some sort of mythical work-life inbalance where it's all the same shit. Hello. Stupid Rach. Alexander and the Companions. Did I really never notice that before?

Apparently.

That said, I'm always relieved the farther back in my personal history I can trace my not necessarily tons of fun to be around quirks.