will you ever be the master-chef for our barn? asks ross. hell no: i'm too scared of failure on a large scale to prepare food for people. i can make everyone sandwiches. i'm comfortable enuf w/ my own abilities for that.

went on IM for the first time this semester this afternoon. (swat)becca's iMac has it installed. five of my friends popped up shouting "ester!" including old-friend michael, the 25 (is it 26 now?) year old millionaire. he proposed. he's proposed before. he hasn't seen me since i was sixteen under very odd circumstances; i guess i made an impression. hey, in a world where tinman actually meets and dates folks he chats w/ over the web, maybe it's not so crazy. and as joel says, it's good to have fallbacks, right?

(like 17 year old catholic boys, eh? i like the juxtaposition w/ descartes.)

portishead is one of the few bands i like despite the fact that i can't make out the lyrics. the problem of course is that you can't sing along. ross has it on now; the best both of us can do is vaguely hum or beat out the rhythm on the floor like chimps.