Dear John

I saw Amanda in "Mean Girls" (who hasn't?) where she played Karen and thought her boobs could predict when it was going to rain. "Dear John" is on the agenda this weekend. I'm in the mood for a chick flick. But I had no idea that she had any musical talent. Sappy as it may be, I'm in love with the lyrics in the first part of this song. "I love this place, but it's haunted without you. My tired heart is beating so slow. Our hearts sing less than we wanted."

Click

I hate when I lose things. It seems to take me hours and hours to find something once it's gone. I'd been looking for this for months though and it was getting out of hand. It wasn't that I missed it all the time. But periodically, it would occur to me that I didn't know where it was. Sometimes, just before I woke up, I would dream I had it. I even asked people if they knew where it was. Not everyone, but people that knew me might at least have some idea where it had gone. A few very good friends had a pretty good idea, one even suggested exactly where it might be. And I followed their suggestion but still, no luck.

Then last weekend I cleaned my apartment hoping it would turn up. I was amazed at how complicated I had let my life become. How cluttered with the unnecessary. I decided to be brutal. Three piles .. trash, recycle, donate. Slowly but surely I began to uncover it. Suddenly, I knew when and where I had lost it. One final place to clean and it would be mine once again.

~sigh

emo? mhmm...

I used to think you were the only thing that mattered. Now I know you're the only thing that doesn't.

Storms

There are storms that cannot be weathered.
Today one hit.

On being non-existent

I had a vivid dream immediately before I woke up this morning. In it, I held my breath, closed my eyes and disappeared. It wasn't as if I died. Or went somewhere else. It was as if I had never existed, rather like George Bailey.

I liked it.

rambling

there is a lump in my throat
and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach
and endless tears
i am frozen
with no idea how to move
south?
east?

the past neatly packed into boxes
carelessly left in the attic to become
brittle and fragile

incite/insight

on giving in ..

circles of closeness
levels of intimacy
degrees of happiness
measures of who we are
weighing each moment
comparing
emotions
lives
reduced to
scientific and mathematical terms
in an effort to
explain the unexplainable

maybe I should give in and let go