I’m tired of being sick. Again. I feel like my time here so far has been underscored by the tune of a certain malady. I’m becoming fluent in illness, an ever-present cough or sneeze punctuating my speech like gunshot. Over the past 10 days I’ve often awoken in the middle of the night (around 4-5am. It’s the middle of my night anyway) with a rough start, throat heaving as if exorcising something unearthly. Getting up to grab a glass of water doesn’t help like it should, I’ve probably inhaled a desert from being incapable of breathing through my blocked nose. All great Neptune’s ocean couldn’t stop that irritating scratch at the back of my mouth. I’d drown first. Eventually it subsides, but coughing fits keep recurring at inopportune times.
At my haircut today, for example (and as an aside, I know I went to a hairdressing college for a cheap haircut, but how can a trim take 2 hours and still leave me with a borderline bowl-cut? Maybe a cross between a bowl-cut and a Lego haircut. It all worked out so well last time. Gone is my excessive fringe and Adam-from-Girls scruffiness. I’m more like season one Adam, but more shirted. I’m still shaggy, but on the dorkier side of it. It’s not even adorkable, because much as I love portmanteaux, that word makes me want to cruelly socially isolate people who use it in earnest. Is it even possible to say “adorkable” without wanting to succeed at self harm? If not self harm you’d at least inspire violent thoughts from everyone in earshot) I had to repeatedly stop her from cutting while I had my own coughing fit, so as not to come out looking like Van Gogh (as a redhead, obviously). Maybe that’s why it took 2 hours. She offered me a glass of water, then upon discovering they had no glasses, said I could go to the café across the road and ask for a glass, so she could fill it with water. I declined, telling her I’d rather not have someone perceive me as adorkable. No I didn’t. I wouldn’t risk saying that word around, not in a room filled with sharp objects.
I even had to stop in the middle of… going out to dinner with a girl (smooth, because innuendo works best when you basically just rephrase the common vernacular. The ellipses were a dead giveaway too. Also when has it not been appropriate in this project to use the word cunnilingus? I guess since it was decided that this wasn’t an academic paper and I’m fully entitled to use colloquial terms that real people say (like “adorkable”. Okay, that was the last time I swear. If I say it once more I’ll probably start using it ironically, and irony is only a few steps away from sincerity). Like eating someone out. Okay, it’s settled, I probably should’ve just said that in the first place. Then again these entries have been awfully lean on parentheses lately (wasn’t I just talking about speaking like a real boy? Brackets, everyone, not parentheses), so we would’ve missed out on some beautiful unnecessary irreverence. What a shame that would’ve been. They’re probably more interesting than whatever I was writing before) because I couldn’t stop coughing. But that’s why we were born with fingers, right? To find other ways to… communicate? Digitally, that is. Dumb. I don’t even want to think of what kind of innuendo “smoke signals” would be used for (too late). Also the quick mental association I just did between that “digital communication” remark and the fact that I’m typing has left me quite confused and a little aroused. Dumb, just dumb. Staaaaahp it. Cut. It. Out (okay, occasionally my attempts to find cute synergy backfire. What the fuck is this?).
I don’t even think I know how to end this properly. So to compensate, here’s an awesome video of a slime mold solving a maze (with time lapse, of course. Still fascinating). You won’t believe what happens next ([spoiler] the video ends. Fuck you Buzzfeed[/spoiler]).