It's confusing when they reuse hurricane names. I had to go look up the last Earl to get rid of some deja vu.

Actually, learning Latin played a role in my popular/not popular spectrum, too. The first time I was genuinely popular was when I went to Northwestern`s summer program and studied Latin. It was a great geekfest for me, the predecessor to college where I was suddenly not the smartest in the room. Everybody was smart and it was so liberating not to have my identity tied to that. So I could suddenly dance and goof around and flirt (with the one of two Caucasian boys there, go figure conditioning, accidentally landed the wrong one) and none of it was a big deal. I definitely was mean, though, in the way of kids who just now got the power. Because I could be, you know? If I had been able to carry the nonchalance (but not the meanness) back to school with me I would have been much better off. I loved learning Latin, though. They didn`t offer it at my school, so that was great.

About to go on my first long pubtrans foray since moving to LA. Gonna see Jerry Beck showing cartoons and Janet Klein & The Parlor Boys performing. It's pricey for my limited income (they have a discount for students but not disabled people, natch), but I'm hoping it'll be a networking opportunity. Gotta find musicians to work with down here.

Jesse, you can punch me in the face if you want. As long as you know, then it's on like Donkey Kong.

I would never!

Which reminds me, one time in high school, I was supposed to be someone's second for a fight she was supposed to have. The four of us met up after school, it turns out I was actually friends with the other girl's second, they postured a little, and there was no fight. Good times.

In total first world problems, my TV remote is apparently broken. I thought the batteries were dead, finally remembered to get new ones, and no! And my cable remote can't figure out how to work the TV, so I've already been using two remotes. Wah wah wah.

I need to do MAJOR grocery shopping, mostly for Grace. Protein powder, flax seed oil, coconut milk, apple cider vinegar. I should have gone today, but went, instead, to the Skirball for the second day in a row because Noah wanted to go.

I also just got my schedule for the next school year. Blessedly I still have the last period of the day off.

I've always known that English was a tricksy language, what with words sounding like each other and meaning totally different things. However, it took a 5 year old to teach me that "Please brush your teeth" and "Please spray yourself with bug spray in the house even though you JUST HAD A BATH THAT WAS FAIRLY TRAUMATIC FOR BOTH OF US!" mean exactly the same thing.

Is that my learned thing for today? Cause if so, I call shenanigans.

I was the weirdo throughout elementary school, though mainly tolerated by my fellow gifted classmates and only physically attacked by kids from other classes. Still the last kid picked for any team, etc, and people would mock my posture and clothes (swayback and old hand-me-downs), but things didn't get brutal until middle school, where the got brutal fast, and I don't really remember all of it. There's a blur of threats and violence and sick days where I couldn't stand being anywhere near the place. Traded my hand-me-downs for punky/gothish clothes (looked appalling, but had discovered through trial and error that attempts to blend in with the clothing THEY wore didn't work).

High school was better. High school was when I managed to mostly master the art of appearing human (it's hard work for me to do that -- lots of studying and mimicry, and probably why I do better with online interaction than in person). And I had some activities, and a few fairly close friends. My worst high school experience was actually outside of school, when my attire (army shirt and a skirt) and natural vaguely twitchy/non-neurotypical actions got me pulled in on suspicion of shoplifting.

I was supposed to be someone's second for a fight she was supposed to have.

I will always think fondly of Martin McClure, who was my second at my lone high school fight.

All my friends were swimmers so they had practice and couldn't be there when I was called out at the bus stop. But 'Clure rode the bus with me (not his route at all) and I wasn't alone facing a horde of the Other Guy's friends. (I wrestled Other Guy to the ground, forced his face into the dirt and choked him until he almost passed out. This was after two months of harassment by him and his crew.)

we worked out a plan of action for homework tonight with the therapist. problem is, after skipping homework assignments for 3 days, we had 10 pieces of it. 10! the plan? it involves taking a break after each piece. We've been doing homework since 4:30. 4 fucking 30! I am pretty sure that the homework plan should not be something that drives me to kill myself using only safety scissors, non-toxic glue sticks, and a #2 pencil.

the good news is he is happy and not picking fights. So, I guess this is what it takes right now. We are going to have to do post-school schedule as a tag-team, that much is clear.

Spreadsheets my dear. And perhaps google calendar. Wishing you much luck. And that you don't eat too many gluesticks.

I've decided that being a Y lifeguard is either really boring or they just hire really freakily friendly college students. I'm used to mine being talky, but then, I've been there every day for a year. One asks for updates on my house projects whenever he's working. But at the strip-mall Y, different crew, and they've initiated chat every.single.night. Every one of them has offered me advice on when the best time to swim is (but I don't mind sharing lanes, and their version of busy < my Y's version of busy.) Maybe it's cause I'm there, swimming continuously for 45 minutes plus, which might indicate a certain commitment. Or they are just talky meat.