One sentence, two numbers.

I just noticed that my best credit score ever, 781, is the reverse of my best bowling score ever, 187, which I only remember because it's the police code for murder, which I only remember because it was the title of some crap movie I don't think I ever even saw, but still know to be crap, thanks very much.

it's hard for something to grow on something that's moving

When MySpace told me that "Daniela would like to be added as one of your friends!"
I says to myself, I says, "Only if it's the pizza place."
And I was pretty disappointed that it wasn't.
I don't use that MySpace stuff much anyhow.

In other news, there are continent-sized pools of garbage floating in the ocean near Hawaii and Japan.

I've seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest before, but I somehow forgot the part right before the chief's escape. Oops, spoiler alert. I liked when Jack's character told everyone in the institution that they're no crazier than the "average asshole out walking around on the streets." That's true.

Gotta go, medication time!

I totally forgot that I only posted so I could update the debt meter, and even though I could do that now without posting again...um...

A Room of One's Own

Walking through the Times Square subway, see a woman drop an atm receipt (looked more like she threw it to the side, actually). She then turns back to look at it, and I realize that a man with sunglasses and an I'm-blind cane is pointing it out to her...what the whaaat?

I moved to a 1br, 1 bath apartment that is really a room with a bathroom also. It's nice and not, and it's off a convenient train that becomes really really inconvenient pretty often, and it's quiet but noisy and private but not. So I like it and I don't.

But there's something to be said for having a place more or less to yourself.

It's hard not to notice when things fall into place:

The day after I quit the first theatre job, I was coincidentally offered the second, which was everything I liked about the first - and then some - and nothing I didn't.

The only editing job I applied for was the one I only heard about because of that class I took, and somehow I was hired there, too.

The only apartment listing I responded to worked out to be my new place with only a few days to spare.

I've crossed paths with people I never should have, by any seemingly normal or logical standard, but who have helped me more than I'll probably ever understand.

And so on,
but,
while it all can seem very propellent and providential, when I step back I still don't see that I've gone anywhere special, really. And when I consider the jobs and circles of friends I end up floating around in, I sometimes can't help but think of that Groucho Marx quote,
"I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member."



I ask you, reader,
What's your life leading up to?