blah blah blah

I guess I'm posting just to keep my blogging chops up, because nothing has really happened for me to post about, except the fact that I got stung by a wasp, but anyway that happened yesterday and I already posted a whiny post about it. My mom freaked out when I told her about it and she said that I should rush to the hospital, even though the only symptoms I was experiencing was a mild pain/bruise on the back of my neck and copious amounts of self-pity. Then my mom and dad fought later in the evening about how much of a failure I am, because they think I won't get a job offer because I won't socialize with my peers, which I don't do because I would rather spend my evenings alone, going from one big box store to another looking for a pair of oven mitts to give to my mom but which she has already packed away into storage ("If I use them, they'll just get dirty - so why should I use them?"), or ripping open solar-powered garden lights and making camp candles with them.

(On the latter: I figured out yesterday how to turn a 5 oz. dog food can, a solar garden light, silicone chaulk, black foam, a screw, a key ring and a carabiner into a "candle" that you can clip to the outside of your backpack, so that it charges up in the daytime while you're walking and provides a pretty decent amber LED glow at night. I made a prototype yesterday. It works but it looks like trash because I only had a Swiss army knife to make it with, because I was sneaking around the garage after midnight trying not to alert my dad to the fact that I was playing with photovoltaic cells. Anyway, after the dog-shaped dog duffel, this will be the product that provides me with my early retirement.)

So yes, I have problems playing with my peers because I prefer playing with my pliers. Blah, blah, blah, I'm such a big ol' lezzie and I even have the Norcal hippie highwater pants (see below) to show off the legs that would be hairy if I weren't Chinese and so pathologically leg hair-free. Navneet pointed out that I have succumbed to the fashion of the region, and she's right. In fact, I found myself coveting my friends' fleece hoodies recently, which is as we all know just a gateway to wearing tie-dyed dancing bear shirts

and Chaco sandals with multi-colored toe socks. I have not yet weaned myself from my longstanding, New England-affirmed belief that hiking clothes constitute cool clothes, even though during my one aborted attempt to jog in the South Bronx, at 10 p.m. on December 1, 2001, conducted in a polypropylene zip-neck and cargo shorts, I was laughed at by two hordes of school girls who laughed the laughter of hyenas presiding over a slaughter. This was also the run, if I remember correctly, where a boy yelled at me from across the street "You're gonna get ROBBBED!" and I saw a medicine ball-sized clump of trash and plastic bags roll just like tumbleweed against the shut metal grates of the $.99 stores of the Hub. Anyway, that should have been enough to kick my terrible fashion habits, but I was undeterred and to this day wear that zip-neck and think it's not too uncool.

All of this, of course, is just a way to bide time until I can afford to dress the way I really want to dress: