Today, after absolutely hating hating hating my parents' constant bickering, I practiced driving and went to Kaiser Permanente to rid the house of old magazines and get some pills and get some bloodwork done. (By the way, I wouldn't be surprised if my mother secretly believes that my refusal to pray before my driving exam caused me to fail.)

Then my mother and I, on a rather spur-of-the-moment decision, saw Gosford Park, an upstairs-downstairs drama set in a country house in 1938 England. I enjoyed my first Altman film; my mother said that it was more like a book than like a film, but that she enjoyed it nonetheless. And Stephen Fry, a.k.a. Jeeves, played a substantial role!

Those of you who have seen Pleasantville probably experienced a suddenly renewed appreciation for color upon exiting the theater. Well, similarly, after Gosford Park I saw servants all around me. I saw the red-vested cinema employees waiting to clean a room and serving refreshments and conversing in between ticket-takings.

I certainly try not to treat service-industry employees as though they're nonpersons, or invisible. But sometimes they surprise me with quiet efficiency that I only notice afterwards. Believe you me, after today I'll endeavor to tip more regularly.

While "Monica" drew my blood, I tried to distract myself with Hofstadter's explanation of the difference between representation and expression of a predicate in a formal system. It didn't help much.

While waiting at the pharmacy, I ran into Shelby from high school. I barely knew her then, and I still can't recall her maiden name, although perhaps it matters little since she's taken her new husband's surname for her own. I kept thinking, "Shelby...Shelby Foote? No, that's wrong, that's that Ken Burns historian."

Oh: today, while sorting magazines, I came across a US News and World Report with a cover headline: CHEATING, WRITING, AND ARITHMETIC. Not quite as funny as the San Joaquin Delta College ad I saw flashed on the cinema screen before the previews before Gosford Park:

Work Is The Key.
Unlock Your Future.

I didn't stop laughing for two minutes. Not only has someone else deliberately locked my future (To keep it from me? To keep it from others?), but my future is a lock. It wasn't "Unlock the Door to Your Future." I saw no implication that my future is protecting anything! Some futuresmith has created an access control device, and I will have to work the rest of my life to unlock it, because that's my future, a lock!

I scored 705 in Solitaire.