Hello, my name is Jazz and I ....

... am a serial sneezer. The concept of one sneeze seems to escape me. Whenever I sneeze it's five to 10 times in a row, which can be embarassing in some situations. I'm also incapable of sneezing quietly. Damn.

... see faces everywhere. I see faces in carpet, in the floor tiles, in shadows, in the patterns of just about everything. The few times I've pointed out faces to others they have looked at me as though I'm insane, I probably am.

... have two bamboo plants on my desk which for some reason are growing like wildfire. I usually kill plants really quickly. Go figure. Now I feel responsible for keeping them alive. Ain't that just the kicker, they've survived so now if (when) they die I'll feel guilty about it. It's tough being me.

.... have no idea what to write about today, though I absolutely feel that I must write.

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T (the new american friend coming to live here as posted earlier) and I have been emailing back and forth for the past few days. I think I was cloned without ever knowing it. She is frighteningly like me (insert Twilight Zone music here). It's gonna be nice to have her around. Or it will be hell; finding myself hanging around with a clone! *shudder* Seriously, I hope she and her manthing will be living in town rather than up in the Laurentians. 'Cause I know it's gonna be so cool to have her here despite the drama her departure is causing at the other end of the continent. Me, I'm doing a happy dance.

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Family issues are taking me to Detroit for the weekend. Other members of the family here will be going too. The whole thing is becoming insane. Hotel rooms seem to be an issue of the "well would you mind if such and such stayed in the same room as you so we can cut costs by renting one less room" kind. Such and such being the cousin of Mr. Jazz's mother. To give you an idea, Mr. J and I are in our 40s.

Um, how could I put this politely. No. That is so not gonna happen. I am not about to share a hotel room with some guy I have met twice in my life and didn't much like either time.

I'm way past sharing rooms with strangers. Were I 20, perhaps. Were he poor as a churchmouse, perhaps (and what about the poverty of churchmice? Are they really that much poorer than other mice? but I digress) - or more likely I'd pay him a room. But this is not the case here and I don't care who it annoys but I'm not doing it. I know this is gonna be a shitty weekend and there is no way I'm not gonna have my space. End of disucssion.

Signed Jazz, the evil bitch.