I came across the last name "Kills-In-Water". What a vivid name. The first thing I thought of was a human attacking a human in shallow water, which is probably a normal thing (I hope) to think of. The second thing I thought of was some sort of animal, like an alligator. Seems most appropriate, because they lunge onto land to attack land animals and drag them into the water. 

It would be redundant, or at least a little extra, to imagine an animal that already lives entirely in water to have that last name. Hello, Mr. Piranha Kills-In-Water, how are you today? What, you've killed nothing at all on land today? What a shame. Tomorrow, perhaps. Good luck to you then.

The final thing I thought of was a comedian. Because when they do really well and get a lot of laughs during a set, they call it "killing." It would be a pun. The tale of some cursed comedian who has to do their act out of a kiddie pool. Always. Cannot be funny outside of water. Can't even joke. Faces constantly disappointed fans who want to interact with them when they're not in water and come away just...bored entirely.

This morning I tied my shoe and stared at the dust floating through a shaft of sunlight shining through the gap in the curtains of the living room window.

It's now been 48 hours since my vaccination and I feel no ill effects. I think perhaps I had the slightest of headaches yesterday. So slight I thought I might be imagining it. 

Pain exists in the mind, I suppose.

Oh yeah, I was going to raise up my work desk by shoving bricks under it. Maybe I'll do that this weekend. 

I prefer having my keyboard really high up, so when I'm typing I look like a T-rex. 

Still resisting purchasing a TV. And a greyhound. I must learn to enjoy the tech and hounds I have. 

Holy crap, the Fukushima disaster was ten years ago. See, I'm here wishing for a fancier TV and there are people who had their entire town destroyed. I must remember that desire is an ocean, and I can float on it or drown in it.

Yesterday was the day. I received my second dose of Pfizer vaccine. Number-ologists used their Babbage's Difference Engines to calculate that I should be 92.7% infection-resistant in about 7 light-cycles.

This doesn't mean I can go hog-wild and breathe on everyone, because it's still not clear how contagious I might be if I get exposed and get slight, unnoticeable viral replication in my body before my own immune system clears it out. 

And of course...the mutations. All those poor saps espousing herd immunity as if evolution wasn't a thing. Let's get herd immunity for the flu, they might say. Oh wait, it's not mutating beyond the ability to ever achieve herd immunity? Who could have seen that coming? [Evolution looks askance from its comfy armchair in the corner.]

After my shot, the twins came over and watched Ridley Scott's Alien. They enjoyed it. On Saturday, we will watch Aliens, aka Alien 2: Electric Boogaloo.

All this movie watching is giving me the urge to get a larger TV. No, I tell myself, ya don't need a larger TV. Yes, I say back, I know I don't need it, but I want it." Then I fight myself or try to distract myself by reminding me that I want a greyhound and hey the cost of a large screen OLED TV is probably enough to get a greyhound. 

Today's experiment is that I brought beans and rice for lunch. To give me more energy on my afternoon exercises. It's a bad experiment because it's been 24 hours since my shot and I'm much more likely to have some symptoms of tiredness, chills, and headaches. I feel fine so far. Although I am lazy so any excuse not to have to work out today is probably enough for me to curl up in bed. Then again, I have a reputation to uphold in the online multiplayer community. As the guy who's not very good but damn if he isn't foolishly consistent.

Did I dream? I did. 

My nephew came to me for relationship advice. Some excerpts:

"You're setting up a conflict in which someone wins and someone loses. There's not always a right or wrong. And if there is, sometimes you have to let someone be wrong. Because being right is enough."

"Yes, and that is your burden. At this point, you want to say these things so you feel better. Even though it won't make anything better. Probably worse." 

"You're not letting go, not really. You're going to alter your behavior to gain some small peace of mind."

"If you did get back together, you're likely going to be just as stressed and unhappy because the two of you don't have a way to communicate."

"It's hard to make progress in a relationship when the person can't think about themselves and why they do what they do."

"So you're not letting go, you're choosing a different kind of unhappiness. One with more potential. Yes, you've tried all you can. All that you can that might actually work. There's probably long-shot stuff you can do, but it probably won't work and just make everyone think you're crazy. Because that kind of stuff only works in the movies."

This is a little out of context, since half of the dialogue is missing. I've been thinking of scanning in my old high school journals for my own reference. I remember the though process pretty well. Romantic ideas are odd because they still tend to expect that people are purely rational. I would have to refine it and say that yes, they are generally rational; just not good at understanding the true cost of things. Like if you got paid five bucks a day to only take freezing cold showers. Might sound like easy money, but when you're hungover and need to get ready for work on a winter morning, no amount is probably enough.

We're not always who we think we are going to be.

I think I'll start bringing my lunch to work again. Some rice, some beans. See how that affects me, and then go from there. Mmm...lunch.