what is following?

so, at the bottom of the "blogger dashboard", there's a button that reads "what is following?" while i din't bother to read what it said, i do have a good idea. however, ima hafta make up the definition cos the oxford english dictionary, "the definitive record of the english 'languish'", is available by "prescription" only. sounds like pre-gutenburg bible times.
following: verb, present tense, meaning to take other people's steeze by an underhanded nature. as in "i am following that peewee herman guy. he's got righteous style!! i like big forks."

anyway, it's raining, and as such, i'm burning lots of calories just being awake. to sate my needs, i'm schralping energy foods samples from the "interbike" festivities back in september. the first was a "stroopwafel" made by "honey stinger" and flogged on the packaging by none other than lance "trek-livestrong" armstrong. it had a pleasant cookie taste and somewhat gooey texture, waffle shaped, yes, but not at all like a stereotypical "belgian" waffle. (or, i should say, an american belgian waffle.) from which i garnished 160 calories and 4% of my iron for the day. no anemia for this sami! (incidently, there's an association of stroopwafel addicts.)
the second was a "NOWtm NO OPPORTUNITY WASTED ENERGY BAR". flogged by PHIL KEOGHAN Host of The Amazing Race. it tasted like an amalgamation of too much stuff, resulting in a kinda neutral ickiness. it is, however, "Powered by WITH NEW ZEALAND MANUKA HONEY WONDER PRODUCT". written in that annoying circular overlay that's meant to be read middle last, for effect. i know it's sposeta read "with new zealand wonder product, MANUKA HONEY", but i refuse to do that.
totally productive morning.
in other news, my roommate of the last month just left to grab the bus to taiwan. i'm conflicted about this. on the one hand, i've only known him a month, but on the other hand, i feel like i know him fairly well for my being someone who hates to get to know people. i can't imagine what it's like to walk out of a house in rural not-quite-tacompton and grab a bus and by the end of the day be not only in crowded, industrialised taiwan, but also in the future. seems like such a mindfuck that i have know way of understanding it. or even conceiving of it adequately. i imagine it's like dying. or going into a coma. one night you're hanging out with friends and the next night it's actually two nights later and no one around you speaks the same language and the maple tree that's shedding it's leaves rapidly in the heavy november downpour is gone, replaced by, what? i don't even know. my self-serving lesson is to never leave the country. or at least to never end up in such a starkly different place. i'm sure it's a symptom of my lack of desire for growth, but i'm happy not breaking too far outa my comfort zone. i also have no desire to visit chicago. or la. or nyc. or seattle, for that matter. i'm happy living in places with pastures or rivers or open spaces for back yards. i like have elk stare me down while i'm eating my cereal in the kitchen. i like hearing about a wolverine that my boss saw out his window before work. i like seeing cows and hearing chickens and watching the trees shed their leaves on open ground and having a good view from my bedroom that doesn't include another house. i liked growing up on a farm and hope that one day, if i ever have kids myself, they will enjoy the same sort of childhood i got to have. there's a kid who frequents the shop in ballard who knows most of the clerks at qfc by name. he seems so damn bored. all he has is a bike and some pavement. i had dirt and grass and trees and pasture and a huge, largely undeveloped neighbourhood. only a few country roads splitting the properties up. we could roam for miles and still be around people we knew from school. i don't know how anyone can live in a city, and yet so many people follow so many other people straight in. i feel like there's this bank of lockers surrounding the city, and when you move in permanently, you hafta put something of yourself in one, and forget it until you move out again. i think i put my control over my anger in the bank when i moved in this summer, and have since got it back after moving out. i don't plan on losing it again.

if i stare at the clouds long enough, i can make out the shades of gray whipping past. they are largely unbroken, in that november in washington way where you know it ain't gonna stop raining for a long time. and it's gonna keep raining hard while it's at it. fine with me. i ain't gonna do shit today, and ima like it!!!!