The Old Mind is a Slippin'

So I'm not old. But my mind is just plain exhausted (I need to learn to spell that word, and experience [which is just spelled right on my own for the first time, ever]). I'm having bizarre nightmares. Like my unborn child (in the dream) burned my hair off my head and I had to get the rest of it cut off. For those of you who don't know I'm going through a balding period. I was wearing my bangs straight down, I was deciding if I needed a haircut the other day and was messing with my bangs, I can't wear them straight down any longer because I have two major holes in my hairline. Balding periods suck, and apparently I'm having anxiety of this one.

Anyhow, my anxious mind thought of two very clever things in the course of the day for me to write to you about. I have since forgotten. I just remember thinking that you would have enjoyed them.

Also, I have a brain tumor, self-diagnosed. I keep having strange tingling on my scalp and shoulder. Same two places, so I know it must be corresponding places in my brain. I thought about plotting  my symptoms into WebMD but come on, I wanted to be a doctor at one point, I know what I'm talking about: Something clever.

Goat Cheese: So Good, So Bad

As a cheese person in a cheese family I've always been a bit underwhelmed by the household cheese variety. Part of it is financial and part of it fear so when I branched out to goat cheese it didn't surprise me that the $7 log turned moldy before I could finish it. No one else will venture to its wonderful tangy smoothness.

Tonight though I was making butternut squash and tortellini soup. It's alright, my mom is a huge fan. Anyhow, I'm cooking the tortellini separately so that it is fully cooked come the final product. I pop one of those bad boys in my mouth and then it happened:

Goat cheese napalm plastered the roof of my mouth, sizzling as the skin festered and bubbled. No amount of panicked gnashing helped. My teeth and tongue fought tirelessly in vain.

The worst part, no one made me a milkshake for dinner. I had to eat the soup stuff with my mouth all raw. I guess the moral of the story is not to eat hot goat cheese. It's good but deadly.

Healthy Living

I'm going to venture that the world is an unhealthy place to be. The other morning as I drove to work there was fog lifting in the distance, the fog was a putrid yellow-brown. Overindulgence runs rampid in these parts. You fall in the Potomac River you get a tetanus shot. You fly on a plane, you are exposed to x-rays then slap on a paper mask (or so I hear, my travel has been limited to driving in the past year). I can't find a job because of the economy-or at least that's the excuse I've been given. Now you're thinking:

Jeez, Megan, my ass is asthma free and my BMI is within the normal range, I don't worry abut the tetanus thing because I don't go outdoors, I'm reading your blog instead.

And my response to that is:

Thank you and I can breathe as well but just sit and listen for a second.

I just got home from a run/walk. I'm combating the crazies so it's a must in my daily routine but it's more than just a drug substitute, it's a non-surgical butt enhancement, it's the next best thing to a tummy tuck and its the closest thing to controlling my chocolate intake I can muster. My skin is less likely to resemble a pizza and though it hurts them very badly, it's the best medicine for my hips which seem to hurt everyday now. I see the same few people when I go out on these looped treks, mostly older women walking their dogs and a few running so they can focus on their homework later on. The men run before I get up but on the weekends when we cross paths they're all hardcore with their mini shorts and aggressive waves. The men look "healthy" the rest of us look "normal." I don't think the men who run in the shorts are living any healthier than I am though. So what their muscles are bigger than mine and they have -55% body fat. You can't tell me that they are completely satisfied in their lives.

Lets look at our cars. I drive a car that gets called many names, nice isn't one of them, but I love it. My '97 Outback is a bit abused and not mint but it gets me where I'm going without making me worry (most days) and hasn't let me down too many times. Now I still have to pay for it but I will and it won't kill me in the process. Those men who run in the morning, they drive expensive European cars. Status symbols and they love them too I suppose, not for getting them back and forth but because as they pass people they feel as if they have risen above the rest us. Status symbols are unhealthy (one or two is fine, but your fleet of cars parked outside of your McMansion with your maids and gardeners is a bit excessive). Status symbols are more or less the definition of dissatisfaction. They are the smile you can't bear to wear because it hurts your face and feels false.

These men with their wives living in their houses don't have children but their homes could house a family of 12 comfortably. The energy to heat that house is a waste, and I live in a rather large home, one my mom is going to leave (probably) once my youngest sister graduates high school and move into something smaller. At one point there were 12 people living here nine permanent residence and three squatters and though it was a bit crowded at dinner life wasn't bad. I've lived in apartments where cooking was impossible because there was another person trying to fix a meal. I've lived in a flat that seemed small compared to that apartment but it was all we needed (plus an extra bathroom!), in that flat there were three or four of us living in two bedrooms, a living room and a tiny kitchen, the running men would have been fine for space but not for status.

I drink too much coffee, I eat too much chocolate, and I fight the fight everyday against falling into the bottom of a bottle (not that I have ever been there but it seems like a super idea some days). This week I've been told several times that I have a case of the wants. I won't deny it but I will explain it away. The wants are a sickness stemming from stagnation. I need a change and there is something to be said about buying new things when you need a change, its a quick fix, a band aid on a gunshot but for a short while it works. I want more than anything to have an adventure, I don't care if it's an adventure into the mundane world of having a nine to five with a 401k and health insurance or if I win a trip to a country where I don't speak the language and I don't understand the customs, New York would be a nice happy medium. I have this urge to try new things and move on, grow. My wants are false.

Maybe I need a doctor to keep me from buying a BMW.