I've been cooking lately. Not just the quesadillas and sandwiches I've been making all year, but things like Chili. The chili was fairly good. It wasn't fantastic, but it got eaten quickly and complaintlessly. It was better reheated, which is because it was thicker, I guess, and the way to make it thicker from the start is to add a bit of flour. Or so says my mom. I'll try it. Right now I've got some "Apricot Chicken" in the crock pot. I'm looking forward to it. And tomorrow I'm having Paprika Chicken pita things. Its all prepared, I just have to cook it.
I like cooking. It makes me proud to have good food that I made. Even bad food, it can only get better. Plus, you've got to eat your whole life, so why not be good at it?
I hear my uncle figured out how to make bread in his crock pot while he was in college. That's devotion to cooking that I don't quite have.

There's a song on my playlist called "Never End, Never End, Never End" from the game Silent hill. Its 46 seconds long.

Speaking of massacring music, this site does a wonderful job at killing any feeling that the instruments/voices bring to a song and making it feel cheap and if it had a smell it would smell like the dollar store.
No offense to the dollar store, but its a distinctive smell which I associate with crap.

About half of my house is an addition. The front half is all original material, but the second story, the kitchen, the bath room and the study are all new. The study doesn't very often get called that, it has a more sinister name. The Scary Room.
When the addition was being built I was young, three to five, I'd like to say. It was built largely by people we knew with the know how to operate tools and make boards fit together with small, pointy metal things called nails. My Dad was working on some part of the house and he sent me inside to retrieve his tool belt. The tool belt was in the room that was to become the study, but since we didn't need the space for any particular purpose it became a storage area for the construction materials. All the boxes, boards and other spare parts were strung about discordantly in there. There was only one working light bulb. It was dark and there were many odd shadows and shapes because of the lay out. So my Dad sent me here to get his tool belt and time passes and time passes and eventually Mom comes around to see what's been keeping me. She's worried that maybe I got trapped under something that fell, and when she sees me standing outside the room just kinda looking in she's a little upset.
"Krister," she says, "What are you doing? Your father sent you in to get his tool belt."
"I can't go in there," says I, "That's the scary room."

Then Mom probably chuckled and made me feel better and got the belt herself.

I've almost been suffering from deja vu a lot lately. Like, I'll defintely have the "I've done this before" flash, except, well let me start in the beginning.
Whenever I have deja vu it starts as a dream. I'll dream a situation it'll happen. So that's been happening a lot lately, except not all the dream is coming true, because each of those dreams has me dying. The little deja vu bit happens and then I'm supposed to die. I haven't yet.

And I wish I could think of a witty way to finish this.

What I hate is when you're in the mood to write something and you had an idea for a post and the idea won't come back. Damn It. Here's some bullshit.

My New Year's Resolution was to not shave for the month of January, I am nothing if not a realist and know that this resolution is at least attainable. And it was. I didn't shave at all during the month of January. When February rolled around I trimmed the full beard and kept it that way for a few days. Then I shaved it back some. The hair now travels down from the sideburns, then across the jawline, then up around the mouth with a moustache beard thing. I'm digging it. It frames my face well, I think. After it is immortalized in the form of picture, I plan on removing part of the sideburns and all of the jawline crap. That will leave me with an Aragorn-style beard thing. After I tire of that I'll shave it to a goatee, or how-the-fuck-ever that thing is spelled.

Anyway, this is not the entry I was hoping to write, I promise to pull some good stuff together for later, loyal reader.

I have no loyal readers.

I had steak tonight. It was very yummy. I also had potatoes and onions which had been fried with oil. I think I used to much oil. This residue combined with the steak left my mouth feeling rather unclean. So I just spent a good ten minutes or so cleaning my mouth. It feels good now. Of late, I've been giving my mouth more attention. I've always been a consistent brusher, but my roommate fears he has cavities in every tooth, this got me worried. I check, and I see spots, but who's to say what they are? My mouth has a sordid history. In review I've had:

• a tongue retainer. It seems when I swallowed I pushed forward with my tongue. This would eventually cause my teeth to jut forward. The orthodontist, a talented Dr. Stegamen, put in a razor, essentially, behind my teeth. My tongue quickly learned to not push forward when I swallowed.
  
• headgear. I had an overbite. I used it very regularly for six weeks. Then the doctor said I didn't need it. I was happy.
  
• braces. Crooked teeth will never do. I also had to obligatory retainer.
  
• various spacers
  
• four teeth were pulled one day. They were baby teeth. It was to make room in my overcrowded mouth.
  
• my upper gums were cut open. My left front tooth wasn't coming in. It was unable to cut through my gums, so the dentist did it for me. It dropped nearly halfway out that night.
  
• sealant. My teeth had naturally large crevaces. Dr. Stegamen filled them with sealant to reduce the risk of cavities.
  

Thankfully, I've never had a cavity. Now here is why I'm not overly concerned about the spots on my teeth. They seem familiar. A majority of my teeth have stains on them. They were caused by an excess of flouride in my youth. The school offered it, so I took it from them, but it also seems I was getting plenty of it in the water at home. It stained my teeth. I wonder if all my bones are stained like that. Its spotty and strange.
I'll have more work done, too. My wisdom teeth will need to come out, my mouth is pretty crowded as it is, and I've heard talk of making my teeth a uniform color, as opposed to stained.
I also had my tonsils removed. They were huge. So huge I was physically unable to swallow pills. They also caused me to snore horribly. And they were storing Strep Throat. The doctors had planned on removing my Adenoids as well, but when they got my tonsils out they noticed such a huge difference in my breathing that they decided to just let it go. I know its not dentistry, but its mouth related.
To cut out your tonsils the doctors go in with, essentially, an ice cream scoop. The kind of ice cream scoop that has the little metal blade that runs along the scoop and separates the ice cream. Except the blade on the de-tonsiler runs the other way.
Sometimes I have dreams of my tonsils in a jar. I've never seen them outside of my mouth, but I clearly see them floating in formaldehyde in a jar, with weird tendril-esque appendages.
I'm procrastinating on writing a paper.

Note: I wrote this at 2:05 AM on Thursday, February Fifth.

We have a new window. There's a set of three above our couch and sometime in December I discovered that the first one, that is the leftmost one, had cracked. Because of the cold, I imagine, or old age. These things happen. December was a busy and forgetful month, so we never contacted the proper authorities. Sometime in January my roommate remembered and had it done. They missed their first appointments to replace it, but eventually they kept one and now we have a new window.
Its different than the other windows. The last one, the rightmost, gets completely covered in frost, the middle one doesn't get any. This one gets frost just around the edges. Its pretty. I stood shirtless in the middle of my dark living room drinking a glass of water and staring at/out it. There's a line of cars then a tree and then someone's window where a light was on. The cars were all orange because of the lights in the complex. The snow was orange. Even the tree was slightly orange.
I hope someone saw me standing in the dark in my living room through the window with frost around the edges.
I hope they wondered what I was doing.