A Secret History

For a long time when we were together, I couldn't remember B's birthday. Then I hit upon the perfect mnemonic: the day before the ides of March. Thenceforth, I would just think erev ides, and I'd remember. I desire more than I ought to desire.

I finally went to RAFT (the Bay Area's Resource Area for Teachers), and now I can't believe I'd never been. So much wonderful stuff, and for next to nothing. Books for days, office supplies, craft materials, even furniture and a technology section. I think I'll visit again on Tuesday, when I have the day off after my appointment. Speaking of, at the last one, the doctor mentioned again that my lower mandible is too small (apparently a common issue for small women of Asian heritage), and that they would like nothing better than to break both my jaws and wire my teeth closed for a couple of months in order to 'correct' it. This would also mitigate any future TMJ issues. I, however, am not overly fond of this idea. I've never had surgery, never even had my tonsils out. I don't mind dissection, but I feel that I should be dead before someone fiddles around with my insides.

There's talk of a movie tonight. Shall we see Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior, William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, or House of Flying Daggers?