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.

Its strange that the pony tail movement has ever had any real weight behind it in the hair fashion scene. Because on a pony the place they have the tail is the ass. So its kind of like the myriad girls and some boys who have it are saying, "Well, I thought I could make myself prettier by making the back of my head look like the back of a large, stupid mammal. A mammal with no sphincter, mind you."
Its weird.
A friend proposed the theory that everyone who has a pony tail secretly sees themself as a horse's ass. I think that's nonsense.
It's a pony's ass.

Sorry its been so long. Some poetry:

Snow swirls slow
Under the orange-red glow
of the car lot's black street light.

Flakes shiver and dance
In a frosty cold romance
where the street lamp makes them bright.

I can't linger still
for winter's fucking chill
pushes me out of the night.

I found this thought not far into a journal I (rarely) kept:

Our bodies work but what incites them to? What is the difference between a corpse and a businessman? Is there some mystical power that travels from mothers to babies during pregnancy? If so, how are test tube babies born alive? Why am I moving while my great grandfather is still? He just died in his living room chair, there wasn't anything terribly wrong with him. What is the spark?

Someone once picked up the journal to write down a note and saw the entry and said, "I think that's where a lot of people turn to religion." It all seems silly to me, now. I look back at a lot of things I did and think, "Whew, I was kinda foolish." There are some entries in this blog that make me a little embarassed. Older ones. Newer ones. This journal entry kinda does. If I had an answer for it maybe I'd like it more. But probably not. It would have to be one hell of an awesome answer. Maybe its love, maybe its potatoes. I don't know, that's for damn sure.

Since break got over we've had pretty much one weather condition in Rochester; snow. This morning, however, I needed my sunglasses. That was a beautiful thing. I was excited. I donned them and drove over to the academic side of campus, then I walked up to the building with them on. Then I sat in class for two quick hours with my back to a window. I think my trouble lay there, in turning my back. If I had kept a watchful and reprimanding eye on the storm, perhaps it would have steered clear. But instead, I turned at the end of class and looked out into a white and windy mess.
Luckily, my people are of stouter stuff than some. What's a little storm to my sweater and hat? But it makes me worry about other people who don't pay attention to the weather. They do well, I suppose, well enough at any rate. Or they die. That's how it goes in life. You go along dealing and adapting until you don't. At which point you are dead. You have to deal with a situation in some way. Every day there are thousands of people in positions I wouldn't wish upon the evilest of men, and they cope, they survive. Or they don't. What it comes down to is handling your actions, dealing with the consequences, or death. I plan to continue to adapt to even the nastiest of situations for many, many years. There is always an option to die and let the problem get the best of me, but what good can come of it?
Or maybe it holds the greatest good of all.
But something makes me doubt that acquiescing and being washed over with death will hold anything sweeter than finally wrangling a tough spot and living.
Its snowing again.

I don't normally promote things in here, but I must say that Faith No More's album "King For A Day, Fool For A Lifetime" is fantastic. It burns.

I know its been a while. I was on extremely important and secret, top secret, of course, business for the government in France.
Already I've said too much.
I got some Milanos for Christmas (that wasn't all, because if it was, boy, I'd have to think of some way to finish this sentence) but they came in an unusual packaging scheme. There are five in a package. Its laid out so that two are in a stack, then one is on a raised bit of plastic and then there's another stack of two. One would think it'd be easier to just sell six, but maybe the plastic needs to be bent that way for structural reasons. Or maybe the powers that be had access to these machines at the outset or something. Or maybe its just stupid. And what's more, the serving suggestion says a recommended size is 3 cookies. But only five come in a package. It says there are "about 2" servings per container. This strikes me as just plain weird. Why not change the specifications on a serving? Make the math be done on the production end, not the consumer end. Consumers hate doing math. At least this one does.
But they are tasty cookies. Among the more divine, if you ask me.
Which you didn't. But you're at this site voluntarily.
Although not for long, I bet.
Sigh.