So I am back in New York.  Home was nice.  I was just sitting here, thinking what to write after "Home was..." and I closed my eyes for half a second and wrote down the first word that came to my mind. it was actually sort of like a slot-machine spinning around.  And the wheel stopped on "nice."  That's kind of boring, I know.  But in a way, it's the perfect way to describe home.
    Anyhow, I ended up not having to take the bus coming back.  My parents and I met Geoff and his ladyfriend Elizabeth at Wescosville, PA for lunch, and geoff and she drove me back.  So I was able to bring back a few more luxury items.  Got back around 5, settled in, cleaned up a wee bit, then went and met Rodzilla for dinner in the East Village.  I had a hankerin' for crepes, which I must say has never happened before.  As luck would have it, there was a creperie right near Rodzilla's place.  So we strolled on over.  Dinner was pleasant, and I didn't eat till I was bloated and sick.  Just till I wasn't hungry anymore. Very rare. So then we went to a bar for some beers and some french fries.  It was nice.
    So today being Monday, it was a Parks day.  The only noteworthy thing was that I saw them feeding the seals today, which I'd never seen. And there appeared to be three now instead of two.  So those were two pleasant surprises.  Anyway, I don't even notice going to work there anymore.  It's just sort of weird, and the environment is starting to weird me out more and more.  I'm just trying to get all my work done.  I think I'm finally getting the hang of writing these damn historical signs.  Only about 10 left.  But it's weird. When I go to work at the magazine, it feels like a day of work.  When I go to Parks, at least on Mondays, it doesn't really feel like I've done anything. But i did quite a bit today. This is a meaningless train of thought.
    So I was planning on sitting at home and cleaning my room tonight, which I plan on everynight.  Tonight's distraction was an 8:30 call from pfc Kathy, who wanted to get a drink down at Great Lakes.  So I said "OK!"  and walked down there to meet her.  I don't mind walking all that much anymore. It was sort of a balmy night anyway.  But once I got there I was dead tired, and sat there sort of sluggishly.  It was good to see her though. I don't see her that often anymore, what with our different class schedules and whatnot.  We chatted about this and that.  And about my journal and her weird relationship with it.  She's kind of weird about it and not wanting to read it and wanting to read it and not wanting to read it again.  By the way, Kathy has her own website now.  It's called Broke Kitty.

    This entry is really plodding along, and I'm wondering what I can do at this point to save it.  How 'bout another quick story about my parents?  This weekend my mom was telling me what an ugly kid I was.  We were standing in the kitchen, and I can't remember how it got to that point, but she said in chinese (approximately), "Man, were you an ugly kid.  I was always thinking 'what are we going to do with him?' You were so ugly!"  By the way, besides being somewhat obsessive compulsive and passive aggressive, I'm also known at times to be horribly insecure.  Only recently have a traced most of this back to its obvious source.  Though I'm getting better. Slowly.  But, now that we're grown up, my mom no longer thinks I'm the ugly one.  Oh, there's an ugly one. There has to be an ugly one.  god knows we can't have four kids and not be able to identify "the ugly one" or " the stupid one" or "the one that drank out of the toilet."   In all fairness, with four kids running around, you can't keep an eye on all of them, and she should be glad that some of us could be so resourceful as to find water when we needed it.

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