a. The thing that's nice about football, I think, is that they'll play even in the snow. Ordinarily I can't watch football, but if they're playing in the snow I'll watch for a little while. I think it would be even nicer with the television volume off and sad music on in the background. Maybe an oboe.

b. I'm exceptionally flaily today. My face doesn't show it. Am I always either smiling or looking sad? I don't seem to have any in between settings. My face has changed a lot in the past year. I must have settled into my adult face. It's about time. Sometimes I really like it and sometimes I really don't, and I suspect that when I'm not looking it's up to no good. I'm afraid I want to look like an angel, but I don't know how.

c. So, I've truly caught the panic. Running out of time and dawdling too much of it away. For the next while it's going to be So long, Internet. Or at least, So long, Internet, except in teeny, tiny doses. It's too easy to waste time like I did yesterday, looking at kittens for half an hour and looking for records to love for an hour longer, and somehow not realizing until afterwards that actual time was actually passing. From now on I'm going to have to be so careful with every moment. I'll have... thirty-two days. Of course it would have to be February. I hate the panic. Coupled with the flail it gets a little dangerous.

d. Last night I was so sleepy, and convinced myself I would be asleep by one a.m., but then all of a sudden it was four and I was doing the acrostic. I will try harder tonight. Maybe I should set a getting into bed alarm in addition to my getting out of bed alarm.

e. I am the queen of ridiculous questions. "Doesn't his face remind you of a helicopter? Not the way one looks, but the way one sounds." Too many things remind me of helicopters. It's good to have someone around who can hear a question like that, understand it without knowing why, and honestly answer, "Yes." I will miss Jackpot when he goes. I've been spending more time with him, trying to squeeze all of the good time out of him while I can. The irritating time will last long after he's gone, because I'll be in his apartment. Already I'm concerned about things like the paint in the bathroom and the chin-up bar he has mounted across the doorway into the kitchen. I don't like the looks of it, but maybe I'll be glad to have it. I said, "My arms could get to be so strong that if suddenly, for some reason, some catastrophe happens and we can only get around by walking on our hands, I'll be ready!" He said, "No, it will make your muscles strong in the wrong direction," and I cried, "Why are you raining all over my hand-walking parade?"

f. Just when I figure out what I most like to look at, I run out of film. If I had the option, I would have tiny cameras implanted in my eyes. I see incredible things. Just one trip to the store was full of so much great that I smiled conspicuously and looked at everything extra hard, as though I could make it all stick. An unexpected song came out of my headphones, and it was very nearly too much.

g. I wonder sometimes if I'm dying of a terrible disease and I'm the only one who doesn't know. When the emails come around I'm always the one who gets the special mention, like an arm around my shoulder from miles away. It feels good, but it also feels like people sense the need to try a little harder with me, like they're trying to coax out smiles they can't even see, and is there something wrong with that?

h. Unless he has a secret time machine, Michael has no idea in the world of when Flag Day is, but I won't say anything about it, because he's a very nice young man.

i. See, already this is too much time. I will never catch up to me. My mind is everywhere.

j. And me too, even in the things that don't make sense. It's funny how you can be one place thinking of one thing, and then look over someplace else and so much of it feels the same, and it's happening at the same time, and it's like another arm around the shoulder, or maybe a hand holding mine from so far away.