December 03, 2002 | 1:53 PM

Today I feel snarly. And snaggletoothed. And a mediocre mess.

I�m in my house out the window watching a red fire truck negotiate the salt laden streets against a backdrop of Harvard�s stately brick buildings.

I�ve always had a love hate relationship with winter. Scratch that. I have a love hate relationship with everything.

Wouldn�t it be nice to feel neutral about something? To just not care either way? I am exhausted by my own opinions and beliefs. I feel everything with fire and brimstone puppy-dog love and icey christicle yapping beast tare your throat out hatred.

It seems as I get older that more and more people I know become more and more neutral towards everything�more accepting�not in a Buddha way, but in a Barca-lounger way. OK with their jobs and their lives and their new Gap sweaters. I feel sort of disappointed that this hasn�t happened to me yet and I wonder if it will?

I am not kidding when I say I would really love nothing more than to wake up and just be happy that my refrigerator is working. I would love to be able to love taking it up the ass, because what else is there really?

I am terrified that in twenty years I will be some bizarre hybrid of Walt Whitman and Margot Kidder, foaming at the mouth on Massachusetts Avenue and singing made up arias extolling the doom generation.

I guess I just wasn�t made for these times.