Cupid, Stupid, and a Crossbow

Some ducks have all the luck. All this talk of chainsaws and dice-rolling, happiness, hedonism, and everybody's favourite four-letter-word. No, I'm not talking about fuck. Much as many might suggest that that's in fact their favourite four-letter-word. It's certainly a versatile word, especially where anger, indignation, or otherwise upset-ness is concerned. And now I have to be quiet because my roommate's going to try to sleep. Oh good.

Here it is Monday again, and as per usual, my world is packed into a handbasket and on its way. How many times can I be told to get out of my shell in one weekend? By how many different people? Maybe they should think twice about trying to release my inner bitch. She's an inner bitch for a reason, and I work hard to keep her that way.

It's a little tricky when the line between joking around and telling the truth gets blurred. And when I say a little, I mean a lot. Lines between morality and legality, and how much you can get away with. This is what we like to call an "Oh shit" moment. Two hours I've been sitting here in front of my computer. I can't tell when I stopped pondering and started moping. But I definitely feel a sulk coming on. I need to find a way to make it go away. I kinda wonder what a shrink would say about me at this point.

I think I may have met the younger version of the character I wrote based on someone I met once. Wow, was that ever convoluted. The simpler way of putting it: I think I figured out what's so intriguing about the person I just met.

Perhaps, like so many other things, it just isn't in the stars. I have to wonder about the accuracy of those things though, despite the testimonials I've heard. Maybe it's just my imagination, all in my head. Sometimes you can't tell the dreams from the nightmares. Which is worse, not talking at all, or a conversation that's like pulling teeth?

We are lonesome animals. We spend all our lives trying to be less lonesome.--John Steinbeck

Once again, I'm restless, because all of a sudden, I have this lovely daydream that I wish could be real. But at the same time, for the first time in a long time, I get the feeling that, when all is said and done, it's just that. Just a daydream. And I'm not quite sure if I can believe it anymore.

Daydream Believer

Chances Are

It's all about chances, odds, luck, fate. It's about circles. All of a sudden, I'm back at the same place in this circle, but this time you're at the right place in your circle. Geographic circles are another thing entirely, however, and that's why this is just another pile of what-ifs. I know myself, and I know exactly where this will end, and by the end of it, you won't be the only one that's blue. Christmas seems far away. This is really ironic, it seems that once again I've been posessed by the god/dess of bad timing. That's right, it was the "MFM" look... and that's right, she was right again. To quote a conversation with MFM himself, "This is a fine pickle we've gotten ourselves into, isn't it?" "No, I like pickles, this is more of an onion." Oy vey.

The other half of that lyric?

So close them tight and kiss me one last time.

So now I'm playing with fire, courting disaster, some might say. Like a chainsaw that you can only get in one store that's a very long way away.

Daydream Believer

Thankful and Courting Disaster

Courting Disaster
Right now I have this rather precarious feeling, as though I'm courting disaster. I miss people from the past. I missed people from the present. I want to make everything hurry up, so that I can see what's going to happen. There's my life here, my life there, I don't know how the two are going to mesh, how this whole thing is going to shake out. I have no right to be this tired in the middle of the day.

The runway lights are the deepest blue, like the colour of your eyes.

Red knew exactly what I meant when I said I had a little problem. I can't say it was a surprise in light of recent events, but in light of more distant past events, I'm nothing short of flabbergasted. Not so long ago, unbidden, I thought of you, and I decided that it was a good thing we'd grown apart, because if I'd still needed you, I'd be shit out of luck. Maybe that's the thought that was on my mind when we started talking again. Really talking, none of this "hi, how are you?" nonsense. Not like we were before. Better. We started off acres beyond where we'd ended.
You used to scare me, but you don't anymore. I didn't know how to deal with you at all. I'm still a little in the dark. I crave the unknown as much as I fear it, however. We're still not quite on the same page, but aat least now we're in the same book. maybe we can go from there. I asked the same thing of you before, and that which I feared happened anyways, perhaps had already happened. But please, don't let me lose you.

Just Dance
Poster shopping! Yay! Now I can rival Emcee in terms of our relative poster awesomeness. By April we won't have any wall left, at least not visibly. It's fantastic.

Well behaved women rarely make history.

Thankful
Alright already, do you honestly have to go out of your way to make me blush? Really. And would it be so bad if I did have a boyfriend? Other than the inevitable, it was wonderful. I may have a job lined up as a minion to a producer for the not-too-distant future, which, if it was paid work, could keep me out of the house of grease for a long time.

I would believe only in a god that knows how to dance.

--Friedrich Nietzche

Daydream Believer