Two of the greatest, most interrelated ironies entangled in and tangling up my life at the same time is that up to a few weeks ago, I spent much of my time being disorganized, and pretty much, sedentary, but for the occassional motor functions which would maintain my classification in the food chain of being a living and breathing human being, I have devoted much of my time to being puposelessly driven. Basically, I was living an unsystematized existence, and I was getting nothing worldly out of it but for the very sporadic brain flatulence which you would see pop into this window from one very long length of time up until the next time that I would feel a burst of spontaneity. My excuse for living my life as if it were a pigsty, messy and all aclutter, was figuring earlier on that much of my problems in life seemed to stem from the idea that much of my life has been based on theory, which was why I pretty much allowed my life to assume the same conceptualized pattern. Even the college course I deluded myself into taking centered upon one cumbersome theory after another. Like the field it took its root from, it was boring, dense, impenetrable, and in essence, useless. In one sentence, that's my take of political science and politics for you. Four years of saturating myself with theories along with the freon infested air of our infamous library all ended up in bitter irony. My company would've been much appreciated by the existentialists of olden times for though I never do question the value of life, the reason for it always brings me up short. Umm, are we here to change the world or to make a wrecking ball out it?

Anyway, where was I before I went of on an angstful spin? As someone who I assumingly fool myself into thinking looks so much like me, and has the same five feet two inch height as I do and from whom I learned the term Pesco Vegetarian (more on this term later) which it turns out is a type of eating habit which we both live by as well, except I wonder if innards are included in her diet too, from, but is so much more famous than I am *conceited and supercilious grin*, we're both small, but what we lack in height we make up for in angst. Yes, I am full of many things, the occassional burst of arrogance is just one of them. And I deserve to blow off hot air, I mean steam, considering how my stomach lining has been left in a state of gobbledegook after days of playing host to its very unwelcome relative, gastritis. Did I mention that we share the same birth month as well? Okay, enough of this. As I was saying, one of the most recent ironies brought to bear on my life is that as of late I have began spending much of my day organizing things. Organizing and systematizing them to the point that I end up getting nothing done. And I am so enjoying this formerly unexplored sensuality of being a neatfreak that it doesn't much bother me yet that much of my output has been more on the sidelines than in the center of the stage, more in the sleekness than in the bulk.

That's sort off what Pesco Vegetarianism is like. The irony of it is that you eat so much of what is good for you but you're middle doesn't bulge. You can gorge yourself on as much as a bowling ball's weight of whatever it is that Pesco Vegetarians eat and yet not even the semi-fictionalized echelon or the person standing not two feet away from you would detect a trace of the bowling ball on your body. They'd suppose that you play bowling, but they'd wonder if you use a ball to play with.

Subtlety with an ironic twist. It tastes almost as good as my homemade iced teas.