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I have an odd sense of humor, and I know I'll never be happy with a girl unless she has the same sense for jokes that I do. So when I feel like I'm ready to get serious with a girl, I'll perform my ultimate test. I'll say "Knock, Knock." If she doesn't say "Who's there?" I don't know how it's possible I've made it that far with her. But when she does say "Who's There?" My response will be "I don't think I ever loved you." Pure, simple, and to the point. If she laughs, I'll know I can truly be with her for a long, long time. If she doesn't, I'll break it off.
But if she says "I don't think I ever loved you, who?" I will marry her on the spot.
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So I think I might write a book. I've always entertained the idea, but I'm not a very fluid writer. Journalistic style is for me: write what happened, skip the trivial details. But I like vignettes. Turning trivial details, feelings, observations, and big parts into half-page stories just about them. I could do that. Write hundreds of little stories about life and turn them into a big story. Yeah. I could do that. I'll turn it into a book. And this one will be second.
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I think up stupid questions. "Was Hitler ticklish? If he got tickled more as a child (or less, depending on his situation), do you think the Holocaust could have been averted? How about Jesus? If he was fully human, was he fully-ticklish as well? Being ticklish should be a part of the whole 'human experience.' Why is Abriviation such a long word? Why is phonetically spelled with a PH? Will she ever love me the way I think I love her? Why do you get in a car and on a bus? It's useless questions like these that I know don't mean anything at the end of the day. They still keep me up at night, though...
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I have a friend who used to work at an ice cream store. About once a week, I'd go and get a cone. Whenever I came up to the window, she'd ask me the same question. "Do you want vanilla or chocolate?" No matter how I answered that question, she would always get me ice cream. I feel like there's something symbolic about that.
To anyone that studies Chinese Philosophy, go ahead and consiter that an Ice Cream Koan.
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"THE QUICK BROWN FOX JUMPED OVER THE LAZY DOG." The entire alphabet condenced into one dull sentence about a fake fox jumping over a dog for no reason. No feeling. No value. Just a fox playing leap-frog. I hope my life ends up being more than just one sentence. "Andrew Sherman lived, jumped over something, and died" just doesn't feel like what I want history to remember.
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She came into Journalism class today. I didn't say hi, but I watched as she walked in and out of the room. She never acnowledged my presence, but I think I saw her glancing at me through the glass on the door. I don't know if I'm making that up, but it was the highlight of the class. I'm such a coward.
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A few weeks ago, the dentist injected something to numb my mouth to work on my teeth. When all was said and done, I couldn't feel my mouth or tongue for a long time. But after the numbing agent wore off, the only thing that hurt was the site of the injection. The most painful part was taking the pain away. I feel like there's somethign symbolic about that.
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My phone is like a brick that suffered from a stroke not too long ago. It does nothing special; it's just a black brick with a screen and buttons. Unfortunately, the left side of the phone occasionally decides to stop working at inopportune moments, like when I finally built up the courage to ask Emma out last time. It's hard to dial a number when only the 3 6 9 and # keys work. Inability is the quickest way to kill opportunity.
