My friends.

We touch alot.
Hand holding, arms around shoulders, frequent hugs and kisses on the cheek. Sitting on each other's laps. Ass/boob grabbing. Tickling. Etc, etc.
All without ceremony or awkwardness or any of the usual complications arising from such proximity.

It's a generational thing, I think.

We have an ability to form intimate physical relationships, unconstrained by convention.

I don't think it's a bad thing.

But it does tend to... blur the line.

I wrote about touch a while back. It's a powerful thing.

So with all this easy intimacy, does the gesture of one person touching another lose some of it's significance?

Sorry, I don't really have a destination here. Just...  mental meanderings.

Any thoughts?

I'm good with words.



Except when I'm not.



Cause I was trying to show you, and it never came out, I just fumbled
with the sentences, groping for the words like they were keys at the
bottom of a purse.



So I let the silence speak for me, or I talked of things that don't
matter, any small subject that I could trust my mouth to make.



Then you spoke.

Fifteen words.

You did me in, then and there.



I know this girl, well, I'm starting to get to know her, really... she
is so beautiful. I wonder what that's like, you know? To be that head
turning, lingering gaze kind of gorgeous. Cause I've always been more interesting
than pretty. And I'm good with that, I wouldn't want to change it. I
just think it might be fun, for a day or so, to be intimidatingly
beautiful.



Intimidating. I hear that alot. I don't see it. At all. Maybe because
not much intimidates me? Who knows. I'm just me, and I make no
apologies for it. I suppose that could be intimidating, in a way.



I have typed intimidating too many times, and now it looks wrong and strange.



You know what I want?

Unexplored territory.



I want someone to be real with. Someone to just see what happens
without expectations or misgivings or strings and issues attached.



I just want to say, "Here. This is me. Who I am. And who I am, likes
who you are. And I'm thinking that it's fairly mutual. So why don't we
see what that's all about, k?"



Cause it could be fun. Or inspiring. Or a multitude of other possibilities.

An experience.



Casual is not the word. Uncomplicated, maybe. Unfettered? Unconcerned with rules, limitations, obligations.

Just honest.

Unafraid.

Unintimidated, even.



I'm thinking that could be pretty awesome.

Lately I feel as though I've become unforgivably mediocre.



I don't write the way I used to.

I don't ride my horse as well as I used to.

I don't sing as well as I used to.



And I'm wondering how to get any or all of that back. Wondering if it's fair to have hit your peak before the age of 22 when science can grant you a life expectancy of 80.

I wish I had a huge disposable income, so I could just hire a personal trainer, someone to get me back in shape so I could at least ride well again. It'd be lovely, lovely.



In other news, I'm back home, trying to get back into the rhythm of things, find a beat to life. That's it, for the moment.

I'm feeling weak and disjointed today, like a shoddy collage of faded fragments.

Last night was filled with fever dreams, and today my head won't clear.

NY so far has been awesome, though.

That's... pretty much all I got at the moment.

*raptor noise*

..I fell asleep last night reading the forward of Hamlet.

The forward. I didn't even make it to the actual story.



Of course, I've already read Hamlet. Multiple times.

But like many other stories in my ever expanding collection, I come back to it every couple years, read it through, soak up the word play and sword play and dark humour and tragedy.

I always skip the forwards of books the first time I read them. I don't want some third party's analysis colouring my experience, my connection to the tale. I want my own reaction, interpretation. Once I've let the story filter through my own mind, I'll go back, and try to mesh those feelings with whatever new information that highly educated and usually very opinionated person at the beginning of the book might have to offer.



But last night, I fell asleep halfway through.

This... disappoints me.



I used to thrive on sleep deprivation, challenge, an over stimulated lifestyle. Lately I can feel myself being ground down by the monotony of two jobs and the same circle of people and places. Well loved people and places, to be sure, but still...The sameness becomes a living thing, a malignant being sapping me of my energy, my creativity, my self.



Not a new phenomenon, but one I've never allowed to go this far unchecked. And it is a constant struggle to find a balance between my natural inclination for rootlessness and the undeniable draw of those I love that always seems to pull me back.

It would seem my life is destined to feel slightly schizophrenic.

Determined to throw myself full-force into whatever wind is calling me, I open many doors but ultimately take no action, not of any consequence.



I end up mentally paralyzed, here, with a touch of Ophelia's madness but little of her innocence, questioning every possibility and yet, like Hamlet, make no move toward any in particular - preferring, perhaps, to find what "special providence" there may be "in the fall of a sparrow" - A life in which every seemingly unrelated event has it's place.

So, I tried to post this earlier, and myspace screwed it all up. Now that I am back from work, we shall make a second attempt.

The following is an example of why I love Obama. As the GOP candidates increasingly turn to a negative smear campaign, Palin in particular sharpening her knife and reveling in the mud like, well, a pig in lipstick, Senator Obama had this to say on the state of the campaign:

 "I cannot imagine anything more important to talk about than the economic crisis. And the notion that we'd want to brush that aside and engage in the usual political shenanigans and scare tactics that have come to characterize too many political campaigns, I think is not what the American people are looking for."




....Hot.

I realize that Obama is not a perfect man, that some of his policies are flawed, or infeasible. But for me to continue to have hope in the current clime, I have to believe that this is a man who is more interested in being a leader than a politician. A man who will stand up for, and attempt to realize, the ideals he's been representing. I have to believe that this is a man who will fulfill the potential he showed years ago when he gave that remarkable speech at the DNC.

Regardless of your political leanings, Barack Obama has shaken up the citizens of this country. He has roused nearly an entire generation out of their political apathy. He has gotten people interested and involved in their government again, made people believe that they themselves can affect change, rather than waiting on the empty promises of politicians.

Pretty damned impressive.

In other news, my wisdom teeth really hurt, I think I'm temporarily going dry, just to remember what sobriety is like, I've got to sew my halloween costume, and I promise to be back to my regularly scheduled (i.e. non political) writings soon.


Though, if McCain gets elected, those regularly scheduled blogs (I hate the word blog) may be coming to you from an IP in Canada or Mexico.

It's October.

My favourite month. The morning air turns crisp, it starts to smell like fall. I start baking, Octoberfest goes on tap and costumes parties abound...

My niece will turn a year old this month, and a good friend of mine 26.

If things had gone differently, I'd be celebrating my one year wedding anniversary.

That still seems so strange.

I seem strange, this year.

I woke up the other day in the best mood. It puzzled me for hours, this unmotivated happiness. It took me the entire day to realize that I just felt...like myself. That I used to be that happy all the time, but it's been so long that I'd forgotten. Just completely lost that free and easy joy, that grace.

Where the hell did that girl go? And why has it taken so long for her to reappear?

I guess it doesn't matter. October seems to have acted like a light switch, and now I find that girl, that real me, within easy reach whenever I need a smile.
It's a good thing.

I don't have to fake it anymore.
I'm a big fan.

Which is not to say that things are magically perfect. I still work at my dead end job, still have no car and still can't figure out how I'm paying for school next year. I still don't like being stuck in this town and I still want all the wrong boys.

Or just the one, really.
(and man, did I make an ass out of myself about that last night. someone put an end to the drunken texting!)

So yeah, things are still hard.

But I like challenges. =)

Ok, fine, I get it.


The bar for Palin was so low that all she had to do to come off well in this debate was maintain her bladder control.

And that's not fair. So maybe I'm being just a tad harsh on Mr Biden.

Or maybe, he's almost as big an idiot as Palin is, since all he had to do was stick to the issues, answer the questions posed firmly and succinctly, and NOT MAKE IT PERSONAL IN ANY WAY.

He didn't even make it thirty seconds before he invoked the name of Barack Obama, lambasted the current administration, and painted the debate as a contest between himself and Palin, rather than a contest between their positions on the issues.

The kicker? He never answered the question. At all. He only vaguely addressed it in his first few words. He somehow transformed himself from the dynamic debate he occasionally can be, into a MALE SARAH PALIN.

I'm so ridiculously unhappy right now.


Seriously

Oh my goodness.

I'm on such a high right now.

Performance high.


There is seriously nothing better.


Nothing better than standing on a stage, drink in hand, (first of the whole evening, I might add) singing your bleeding soul out while your friends first watch in awe, then jump up on stage behind you. The entire bar is watching, clapping, dancing, even climbing up on the bar to sing along. You depart the stage to cheers and admiration from friends, the dj, strangers...


Nothing better.