It wasn't from the Postal Service or from UPS, it was a plain box that was taped shut, but not covered in any sort of paper. Heedless of what could be inside, I picked it up and brought it inside.

Scrawled across the front in black Magic Marker were the words, To Patrick. There was nothing else on the box itself. It was new, looking like something that had been bought at Staple's or some other office supply store. It was in good shape.

I was a little bit wary about opening it, but I threw caution to the wind and got out a pair of scissors to cut the tape. The box was filled with packing peanuts; no indication of what was inside.

I dug through the peanuts, finally grabbing a plastic bag from the cellarway to put them in while I dug through the box. I started to feel like it was some sort of a joke when my hands hit a small package inside. It was wrapped in plastic, with packing tape wrapped around it many times. I grabbed the scissors again, and proceeded to carefully hack away at the gift inside.

I finally got to the end of the plastic and found a Josh Simpson Red New Mexico paperweight. I collect Josh Simpson's work, so whoever sent it to me knows me enough to leave this on my doorstep. He or she also knows my schedule enough to know that I would be out for a significant portion of the night.

The paperweight is sitting on the little table next to the comfy chair. I never bought a New Mexico version of the planets before. It's an incredibly generous gift, and I have absolutely no idea who left it for me. It had to be hand-delivered.

The glass sparkles in the dim light thrown off by the television. I'll bring it up to rest among the other planets in my collection.

When I got home from the show tonight, Skottie met me at the door. Considering how deaf he is, and how heavily he sleeps, I figured he must have to go out badly.

I went down to the basement and, after convincing him that I wasn't there to play a game of ball with him, he grudgingly went outside. I was closing the door on him when he started to growl in a way I hadn't heard for a very long time. Time was, he would growl at any other dog on the street. This was just after he left puppyhood, and was extremely territorial about the house. I looked into the backyard, but couldn't see anything, even with the back light on.

I dismissed it as a Skottieism until I heard rustling among the badly in need of mowing grass. A rabbit? They don't make any noise at all when they hop around. It was probably a larger animal. Before I was going to let Skottie roam around on his chain with a (possibly rabid) animal within biting distance, I grabbed the flashlight by the door and shined it out into the backyard.

Standing there was a kid; he couldn't have been more than 17 years old, wearing scruffy skater-boy gear, staring at me defiantly. I quietly (but firmly) asked him what he was doing in my backyard, and he said, "I can do what I want." It wasn't said as a threat, more as a statement of fact. I kept the flashlight shined on him for a minute, but he just stood there, impassively, as I wondered what the next step was.

I finally fell back on the proper suburban response. "I'm going to call 911," I said. He shrugged his shoulders and stayed exactly where he was. I closed the door (much to the confusion of Skottie, who thought he was going outside), ran upstairs and grabbed the cordless phone.

I went back down cellar and flashed the flashlight through the windows of the back door, to make sure the kid was still where he was before. I couldn't find him, and I thought he'd disappeared into the night when he suddenly popped up right next to the window, yelling at me at the top of his lungs. I immediately dialed 911, and he must have saw this, because he sprinted up the driveway at top speed. I saw him run up the street and out of view. I told the police department that some troubled kid was causing a fuss, gave him my address, and now I'm just waiting for the police to arrive and take a statement. I hope I can do it without waking up Mom. She freaks out enough about staying at home alone as it is; I don't want her worried about more than that.

I booted up the computer tonight, ready to spill my entry and get to bed, but I checked my e-mail first.

There was a message from Jerry, a guy I dated briefly while I was in San Francisco. Jerry is half-Korean, half-Irish, and possibly the best-looking guy I've ever met. We hooked up in the city, and spent the rest of my vacation there going out. He took days off work to escort me around the city; show me places that even the locals don't know about, and we kind of fell for one another along the way.

When I moved to San Francisco, part of the reason was that I thought Jerry and I had something going that could continue with us both in the same city. Unfortunately, he had received some bad medical news, and couldn't handle the idea of being in a relationship with me freaked him out quite a bit. He didn't want to be sick and be a "burden" on anyone.

The e-mail told me that Jerry was in Boston on business, that he had come to terms with his disease, and that he would like to see me, if that was possible. He'll be here all weekend, in a swanky hotel in Boston. Apparently, his company is paying him well to afford such a place.

On the one hand, I want to call him right now, and see what he's up to. I want to see his face again and hear his laugh. Part of me is still hung up on him because of the awkwardness of the whole situation between us with my cross-country move. We had a whirlwind romance, and I think things would have worked out wonderfully if I was there to relocate, rather than just on a last-minute vacation.

Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off and leave him be. He broke my heart once, and I don't want to allow him to do that to me again. He can do whatever he needs to do for his company and leave me out of it.

I'm torn. It's too late to call in either case, so I'm going to have a decision to make tomorrow morning. I wonder if I'll have the nerve to call, or if I'll just ignore the message entirely and let him know how it feels to be left without any clue as to why.

That feels mean-spirited, though. I'll probably contact him. I just have no idea what I'm going to say.

Driving home from the show tonight, I saw what can only be described as a UFO.

I don't believe in such things (though I'd like to believe in crop circles; they're utterly cool). I drove along 128 and saw a bunch of flashing lights in the sky. I figured they were from a plane, but the colors were all wrong. I kept staring at the sky until I realized that I was going to drive off the road, so I pulled onto the shoulder, stepped out of my car, and stared up at the sky.

I have no idea what I saw; it was green and a purple (lavender) color, or at least the lights were. It was far enough away that it looked like just a collection of blinking dots in the sky, but the movements were extremely odd for an aircraft. The lights sped in one direction, then hovered in place for a minute or two, and then took off at a 90-degree angle, going up, down, sideways, and then stopping on a dime.

The ship (craft? government experiement?) continued on its weird course as I observed, but it finally took off, at a speed I've never seen anything move before, off to the horizon. It seemed to dip downward, but that could just be the fact that it was getting farther away from me. I waited for it to come back, but to no avail. I finally got back in my car and drove back home.

I've never really believed that there were observable unidentified flying objects out there. I've looked for them, of course, but not with any sort of hope in finding one.

Do I think there are aliens observing the North Suburban Boston area? Probably not. But I can't explain what I saw, and that's making me feel very weird right now.

One of these stories is true, the other three are false. I don't know if I'll tell you which one is true or not; I'm in a mood for a number of reasons. You're free to guess at them, but I won't promise I'll tell you what's real and what's just a product of my imagination.

Like I said, I'm in a mood right now. I need to get to bed. The weekend has started off oddly, and I hope to get back to a semblance of "normal" after the show is over. I love having done the show, and I think I've made some friends that will stay with me well after this show closes. We went out to eat after the show (I was good and had string beans, but I was also a bit bad and had scallion pancakes), and had a good, if a bit quiet time.

Tomorrow night is the final show, as well as the cast party. I have a parody to write (for those of you who remember the journal from years ago, the parody must be written during the day of the final show...it's one of my weird, self-imposed rules). I also have set work to do for Three Days of Rain.

I'm sure this odd mood will disappear before I have to do anything of consequence tomorrow. A good night's sleep usually cures that type of thinking.

Until then, I'll leave you wondering just what happened after I thought everything that was going to happen actually did.

Does it really matter which one?