new news, news day, noose day

I am turning twenty four this day. I have almost reached a quarter century, I mourn for the death of the pay phone and the InBev purchase of anhiZer bush. In the past few month I have been holding at bay my need to sunscreen the top of my head with rogaine, it has been slightly successful. balding feels like an adult version of standing against the wall and with a pencil marking the growth. Here it is growth of my forehead, I wonder what sort of increments it slowly develops at and if possibly I could measure each monthly increment and create an abstract electronic song based upon algorithms of numbers connected to the loss of hair. Rogaine is much cheaper then I would have imagine at 38 dollars for a 3 month supply that I bought in march and am only 2/3 done with.
I have started a second serving job during the daytime, it fills up my weekend hours nicely but hampers my connection to those people who live on a weekday schedule. One night I couldn't fall asleep and discussed internally what it is about this new establishment that I feel is lacking. This is my manifesto of restaurants as I have experienced it. The kitchen is the brain of the restaurant, it's layout is extremely important it needs flow and pathways and stations set up to complement and encourage each other. My new job has a kitchen that feel clustered and tumor ridden, no flow and cramped like an atomic wedgie. This brain is in need of a little reconstruction, but I dare not say anything, it is new and will possibly seizure itself into normality. The money is nice, but has a strange effect. I have started thinking past my parental debt of college tuition into hobbies and travel. Or on the more long term side of stocks as I am secretly fascinated by the sotck market and it's gimmicky flash bang graphics. I have followed FPL since I took my first environmental science class at SCSU an became hooked on the promise of wind energy, if I had invested then I could have just slightly more then I do now, if I worried about having more though I might end up giving a mouse a cookie. But I push on... funny how seizure of the brain is spelled the same as seizure of property. I would like to hear at a eulogy that God foreclosed on his soul, a hostile takeover with a lowballing bid.
bikes and travel, I have been dreaming as of late of argentina and a disc break commuter with panniers, I salivate at the thought of both.