Drinking Red Bull at 3 a.m. makes me nauseous.

I don't even know if I spelled that right. Usually, when I want to say nauseated, I say nauseated because I'm unsure of the spelling of nawshus but I don't care enough to look it up.

I think that people should not own guns. I think that if people do own guns they should be kept unloaded out in the garage or on a shelf in the shed. It cracks me up when people in the country keep loaded guns under their beds so that they can protect their home if necessary. I live in the middle of the city, not far from downtown, and have never wished there was a live rifle under my bed. How many people break into homes in the country? I would venture a very, very low guess. Criminals are lazy. Why hit one house in the middle of nowhere rather than four or five apartments in one night? Besides, people in the country aren't usually rich enough to leave Granny's antique pearls lying next to their HDTV and a Rolex resting on a wad of cash. I also think that people should not own deer-and-antler hat racks.

More people should ride bikes around town. It's awesome exercise and it's way, way cheaper than visiting Chevron three times a month. We're down to filling our car about once a month. I would ride my bike to work, but I work really odd hours, making one trip inevitably in the dark on a poorly-lit, five-mile path.

Along the lines of being active, Kelly and I are keeping up with this lifestyle change to eat better and to exercise a bunch. I have lost a solid seven pounds and a couple inches all over. I'm starting to notice other women's arms and how it's rare for women to have great arms. Usually they're flabby and not toned. Mine are almost visibly tone even when I'm not flexing. I've lost my muffin top and the little dimples on the backs of my thighs are disappearing. Kelly's belly is nearly non-existent and he's increased his shoulder and arm size so much that when he went in for a tux fitting today the guy told him that they don't have anything that will correctly fit his large shoulders and small waist. It's super easy to trim down and the payoffs are amazing!

We get to go to Portland this weekend and Rex has already promised a trip to the world's best Mexican restaurant. I've been wanting to eat there for about a month now - since we started planning for the trip.

Nighttime Bike Ride

Kelly and I attended a show near downtown tonight (Thanks, Kathy!) to which we rode our bikes. Then we decided to ride around downtown for a little while. I have to admit that at first I was not at all excited about the extra riding. I slept for about four hours last night and was up this morning at five. I'm tired. But, Kelly was thrilled about a little downtown exploration so I went along trying to let him think that I was looking forward to it as much as he was.

It wasn't long, though, before I became equally enthralled with the bike ride. We rode close to the overflowing Boise River, which is, I think, still at flood capacity for the first time since (I'm trying to remember from old news reports I heard weeks ago when the flooding began so don't hate me if my statistic is wrong) the 70s. We crossed a pedestrian-only bridge that I have never before traversed - mainly because I have been so dependent on my car for so long - and passed places I have only ever before passed at 30 miles an hour. Downtown I saw new shops I never knew existed, old shops I would like to visit again, and people all over having a good time. I felt cracks in the pavement in a way I have never felt before, because to me on my bike above the rubber tires, they were entirely new cracks. The night air was warm with a cool edge to it and periodicaclly the sky would light up with a flash of lightening, signaling the storm the weather forecasters predicted this morning would come and that I have doubted all day.

Tonight I felt alive. It made me feel alive to see my city in a new way, to be out carelessly riding with Kelly, aiming only for around the corner. Sometimes I think I strive too much to get somewhere, without taking the time to just live. Tonight I lived. I loved. I felt. I sensed. I didn't worry about being tired or wanting to take a shower or being fearful of riding near traffic. I let all that go, opened my eyes and breathed. It was a breath that filled me with itchy-eye allergens, but filled me nonetheless. Now I am full...and ready for a few drops of Visine and a good night's sleep.

I rode my bike home slowly today.

I enjoyed the feeling of the slight breeze mixing with the setting sun. I felt the sway of the bike with the grain of the sidewalk and the thrust of my pedals. My semester - the semester I never thought would end - is finally over, with the exception of grading, which will take all of 20 minutes and is something I find infinitely more enjoyable than writing papers or taking tests.

My computer and I will be going through a trial separation soon. It won't last long - only a couple days, I'm sure - but there will be a small separation. Lately, I have been feeling chained to it, as though it is my only friend in the world and is the only place for me to be. Except that it has been a matter of necessity rather than want...which is why we're going to have a trial separation. Our relationship has just gotten to be too much for me lately - too much to handle. There are too many obligations and expectations with my computer. I'm starting to feel like it won't allow me contact with my friends any more and like it's dictating how I spend all my time. Pretty soon it will start telling me what to wear and what not to say and will get pissy about our level of physical affection in public and I don't know if I can take all that, honestly. So for a few days, I will just steer clear, spending my time doing other things, things that don't involve my computer. I think that when we get back together again we'll have a different understanding, a new definition of the boundaries of our relationship. I have hope.

Lucky 13

If anyone is looking for a great pizza spot in Boise, Lucky 13 is the place to be. It's in Hyde Park across from Little Richard's and features some of the tastiest pies around.

I'm sick of complaining about school.

I feel like there isn't a whole lot else going on right now, though.

I don't seem to have a witty remark about things in my day any more sometimes. I think maybe I've lost my edge, like there's no more edge left to be had.

What if that is true? What if there are no more witty and thoughtful remarks left in me? What if I am destined to be an old, boring woman for the rest of my life with no spunk left in me? What if that started at the ripe old age of 24 and eight months? How did I let myself get to this point?

Will this generalize to what I can respond to? Will I cease to find humor in classics such as A Modest Proposal and South Park? How will I spend the remainder of my days? Being a literature teacher will surely have its drawbacks on this one. I will no longer be able to recognize the sarcasm in a Brautigan poem or the poignancy in a Faulkner novel or the social commentary in a Doors album. My classes will be a drag for students. I will be the teacher they warn future generations about in yearbooks and on myspace. "Don't take that Mrs. H," they'll say. "She just doesn't get it any more."

Soon, I shall spend my days searching for that which I am certain I once had. Perhaps I'll find it under the couch or at the bottom of the bread bag all covered in crumbs. While I look I will be lost in a frenzy of uncertainty and confusion. I might do things like dress like Britney Spears and go out downtown with my cooler-than-I'll-ever-be friends or maybe I'll start sleeping on benches in the library.

In a pinch, I could rip off something from the Boise Weekly writer Bingo Barnes and try to pass it off as my own. I doubt anyone would notice and I bet he wouldn't care. He could charge me royalties for writing term papers and daily scripts and I could plead temporary insanity and he could take pity on my eternal soul and lift the couch as I peer under, looking for my commentary on life. Without help, I'll probably be able to write about nothing again except my dog or the fact that I spent all day sitting on my porch or the aggrivations I have with school. But that's boring...so I'll keep searching...and searching...

When I find my commentary on life again, what will I do with it? Will I even know how it works any more? Or will it be rusted with neglect and stiff with unuse? Will it talk back to me, telling me I don't know anything and that it wants to be its own person or will it sit obstinately, refusing to budge despite my pleas and dark chocolate bribes? Will it have shrunk because of sitting still for so long? Or will it have grown on its own, without my help or awareness?

*sigh*

So much to consider. In the meantime, I'm ready for school to be out and my dog is really cool. I would spend more time outside, but I have a mess of work to do at my desk and it's too cold outside still to really enjoy myself. Soon, I'll be on my stomach in the living room, though, peering under all the furniture.

Ideas

I have had some great ideas lately that I think are ways to solve everyone's problems. Or, at least, some people's problems. Here are just a few of my brilliant plans lately.

I think that Kelly should write to random politicians throughout the country telling them that if they do not send him $1000 by June 1 then he will share conclusive evidence with the politicians' spouses that the politician has cheated within their marriage. Now, the particulars of this plan are not completely worked out. We would, of course, need to figure out how the $1000 should be mailed because it needs to be done in a fashion that will not let the feds trace it back to Kelly. Cash is a bad idea...Maybe a money order. If Kelly were to obtain a pseudonym and a fake ID to match, he could cash the money orders at one of those check cashing places. Sure, they would take a cut, but it's money that isn't Kelly's to begin with anyway. Also, there's the idea that politicians are public figures and their extramarital affairs have probably already been made public, so Kelly may want to target CEOs instead - basically, other rich people who have extra time on their hands, therefore giving them the ability to have an affair. Then there's also the factor of how many letters to send out. I think they should all be mailed at the same time and done only once. Sending out too few may not yield a good return, but sending out too many could make him suspicious. So if he sends them out nation-wide, I think that he could get away with sending about 200. Of course, that also depends on how many CEOs there are in the country. I haven't done my homework on that one. As you can see, this plan is still in the planning stages.

We have a friend who sells stuff at the Saturday market downtown every Saturday morning. We saw him there last week and he said that being there meant that he couldn't have any late Friday nights. I told him that he should just keep his wares in his car and sleep on a park bench when he was out late on Fridays. He could dress in tattered clothes so everyone thought he was a bum and then no one would bother him. In the morning he could just throw on his selling clothes and be off. It would save him so much time in transportation alone.

I think that people should be born into a commune and given a stellar education. Then, at nine years of age, people could apply to live in whatever country they wanted. Each country would run on a fairly socialist system and have quotas to meet for population spread. For instance, they could only have a certain amount of wealth, a certain percentage of women and men, a certain percentage of each race and disability and IQ. You get the picture. At first, people may not want to live in places like Somalia because of the natural predisposition to thinking of it as a bad place to be, but after all the previously developed countries were full then people would realize that they had no choice but to live in Somalia and so they would and then they would realize that it wasn't such a bad place to be and eventually people who detest harsh winters and like open spaces and the challenge of creating something out of sand would start applying there in mass numbers. Of course, the applications would be reviewed by a panel of educated people - mixed races, mixed genders, mixed sexual orientations. This system would also discourage people from having children for the sake of laziness of not using protection, but to propagate the species. When a child is born that child is immediately transported to a commune - probably there will be one on every human life-bearing continent - where, as previously mentioned, that child remains until the age of nine. On that child's ninth birthday that child can submit the application and that child will be placed with a family within two months. This way, children can only go to families who want them and can support them. I think that this system would increase racial inter-marriage and decrease prejudice on more than one plane.

I'm currently developing a plan to get Kelly to start doing all my homework for me. He turns me down when I ask him, but I'm pretty sure I can work something out that he can't resist. I may offer to make him bacon in return or find someone to sit and rub his feet all day. I'm still working on the incentives, but the idea is golden.