shojo

On a normal day, I would be, at this moment, swearing sulfurically at the fax machine, declaring that it was a useless piece of monkey crap and, in response to it's apathetic beep, would scream, "Yeah? That's what your mother said last night!"

I would then turn to the nearest coworker and demand a high-five for that little gem, slapping at them whether or not they raised their hand in response.

But today is not a normal day. Today I am not slapping people or threatening the lady at the Jamba Juice with a screwdriver I keep hidden in my shoe. Today is different, and if you do not believe me I will kill you.

I am leaving for New York. I have no delusions that I'll be fervently missed, I know that, upon my return, the number of comments in my journal will be 2. 3, at best. This is because I'm what you call an "outcast". But perhaps in the sprawling expanse of Manhatten, I'll find myself. Or perhaps I'll get stabbed. That would be awesome!

In about 30 minutes I leave for the Oakland Airport. Usually I only go to the airport to pass the time. I like to watch people come and go. I enjoy the varying expression of fear, anxiety, apprehension, mild arousal playing on peoples faces. I also like to crawl inside the x-ray to scare the shit out of airport security. Haha...

But this time is for rizzle, my nizzle. This time I'll march past security (with an uncomfortable feeling that the routine crotch-inspection I just received didn't do all that much in the war against terrorism) and angle straight towards my gate.

The lady will ask me with an alarmingly simplistic grin, "Did you leave your luggage with any strangers?"

And I will grin back and say, "No, Ma'am. But I'm glad you asked. I'm glad you asked."