I got on the subway this morning

and saw three hot guys and I thought, "Hey! Three hot guys! I never see three! This is going to be a great day!" and then the subway driver man's voice came over the intercommy thingy and said, "Something something blah blah blah train out of service mumble mumble going to be a long inbound trip." and I waited 15 minutes because 15 minutes is an acceptable amount of time to wait for a subway train exceeding it's quota of hot men to leave the station but 16 minutes was not so I (along with the three afforementioned hot men) left the train and left the station and, because I was disoriented, started walkin west until I realized that I was walking west and oriented myself and headed east through what is most definitely a "shady" part of town, even at 8:20 in the morning, and there were lots of pidgeons and left-over hookers and for some inexplicable reason it smelled like bacon and there was a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk and I swear to you on my very own life that he was wearing my denim jacket I lost sometime between last Tuesday and today and I just wanted out out out of that "shady" part of town and finally I was out and I passed a theatre with a big sign for Little Shop of Horrors and I walked all the way up the hill to my class singing "Little shop! Little shop of horrors! Little shop! Little shop of horrors!"

Highlight of an otherwise sub-par day:

Girl in my class whose IQ is roughly the same as that of a shoe lace: "I pulled this advertisement from Cosmo cause it's, like, the only thing I read and, like, you know Cosmo, right? It's, like, the magazine for girls from, like, 17 to like, I don't know, menopause?"

Three things that make me angry:

1. Elementary school children with backpacks on wheels.

2. People who don't realize that there are two sides to every escalator: The side for people who stand and the side for people who move.

3. Being asked to buy kitty litter for someone else's cats which, incidentally, use your messengers bags and scarves and sketchbooks for kitty litter anyway.

Mother turned 51 earlier this week.

She doesn't look 51 and she certainly doesn't act 51, but, alas, her time has come. Mother is going through the change. All in all, I'd say she's coping well. I mean, she must have known it was coming sooner or later. I think her way of dealing with it is to talk about it. Because she talks about it. A lot. She'll call and say something like, "Yeah, I'm having mashed potatoes with dinner tonight because, you know, I'm going through the change." Or maybe something like, "I'm just in the car on my way to work because, well, I'm going through the change. I had no idea such banal things could be dictated by the body's looming infertility, but what do I know?

My computer has become overrun

with Adware. I can't open Internet Explorer without at least two to three pop-ups, well, popping up. I run Adaware almost everyday and Norton Antivirus weekly. Norton has found 46 at-risk files that it doesn't know how to get rid of. I've run Live Update numerous time and, I think, updated my virus definitions. I can only think of one solution at this point: throw this computer away and buy a new one.

Yesterday was very cold and very wet

and really quite ugly. It's really too bad that, besides the whole protection-from-rain thing, I find umbrellas so impractical. I never know what to do with one when I'm through with it. I can't justify toting around a rolled-up wet thing all day that may or may not cooperate with my outfit. What's that rule of thumb again? Belt to shoes to umbrella?

For the record, it's an exemplary fall San Francisco day today.

Look at me. Just look at me. I've been reduced to talking about the weather in a valiant effort to avoid posing the moral question of whether or not it's okay to sleep with your ex-boyfriend whose bed you're still sleeping in.

I guess my effort wasn't so valiant afterall. Back to the weather, then.

Part of me is really looking forward to a New England winter. You know, the romantic part of me. The part that likes hot chocolate and scarves and Christmas Carols and late nights lit white from falling snow.

Another part of me would rather live on the streets of San Francisco than go home for good in mid-December. Mostly, that's the part of me that has to get behind the wheel of a car and take to the snowy roads for the first time in 3 years. It's worth noting that that was also the winter of 1,000 Car Crashes. Well, maybe I didn't crash 1,000 cars but I did total one and smash up another all within a span of 8 days.

days.

I've found the silver lining

of not having any groceries in the house (and thusly not eating) for over a week. No dirty dishes to wash!

I haven't repeatedly taken the wrong fork in the road of life.

I'm just taking the scenic route. Right?

I've somehow managed

to become fairly good friends with a girl whose name I couldn't produce if you held a knife to my throat. She's in one of my classes and we started casually chatting at the beginning of the semester. Lately, however, our relationship has grown beyond the classroom. Just last week we spent the afternoon shopping and today we walked all over creation together trying to find a particular mannequin (for drawing, not for dressing). I know all sorts of things about her. I know she's from Pennsylvania but spent a lot of time in New York City because that's where most of her friends are. I know she drives a beat-up Toyota Tercel with one wheel in the grave. I know that she's attended 3 colleges prior to our current and had just as many previous majors. I know that her best friend likes shiny things shaped like stars (I asked if he is a monkey. He isn't). The only thing I don't know is her name! I've tried everything, too. I've asked to see her school ID and her license. She's embarrassed of her photos. I've tried to sneak a peek at my teacher's roster to see if any of the names rings a bell. I don't think my teacher even takes attendance anymore. I even tried the old Seinfeld trick of introducing another friend of mine (whose name I know quite well) to her to see if she'd introduce herself. No such luck. I suppose I should just be grateful that there are only 10 classes remaining and then I'll never have to see what's-her-face again.

I pass a girl every morning on my way to the subway.

She is in High School. She is French. She is on her way to the French-American High School down the hill from where I live which means she can't be any older than 18. She is usually with a gaggle of other French girls, chatting in French and motioning with their hands in that oh-so-French way. There is something about this particular girl, though. She has this magnetic quality. She is fairly plain looking, nice wire-framed glasses. Straight brown hair, round cheeks, pouty lips. But every morning I pass her and I can't help but stare. I think she's starting to notice and I don't think she cares because I don't think I'm the first person to feel this way about this girl. It's inexplicable, really.

I particularly enjoy my morning walks to the subway. Naturally, I make the same walk whenever I want to go downtown, but it's not the same as my morning walk. My street is typically pretty congested with morning commuters (more so now with the construction), but I never feel overwhelmed by the noise. I see the same people making the same trips every morning. I feel like I play a part in those brief 8 or so minutes.

I sat next to a little girl on the subway this morning. She was with her mother. I'm not much for children, but I've seen this little girl before and she is awfully cute. This morning she told her mother that she misses Cookie. I don't know if she was talking about a stuffed bear, a new kitty, or an actual cookie , but I started to miss Cookie too.