SheFallsSoftly

My life is so terribly uninteresting… Don’t think that I don’t know that the vast majority of you come here just waiting for me to say something insane. It’s like Nascar–not worth watching unless some good redneck needs a can opener to get out of his car.

These days are all about easily sliding from one role to the next, class, work, prospective girlfriend… All of these parts we play so we don’t have to face the terrifying choices that are ahead of us. This constant denial of choices, and claiming of roles, serves only to bring me further from myself. I make choices I hate, tell myself they are inevitable and justified, and never quite move past that feeling that I’m behaving some way that I don’t approve.

Many evenings with a certain Chris Allen recently… terribly enjoyable times, much intellectualism and  cuddling abounds in our hours together.

My summer plans have changed, instead of going to New Mexico to see my aunts and uncles, I’ll be going to Las Vegas to see my sisters. Vegas doesn’t feel like home, and that’s what  I like about it.

Nothing ever comes out just right, in the math of the universe… The numbers are just fuzzy enough that while we try to round them to perfect, they’re a few billionths off…. in that 2+2=4.000000…6 kind of way. This is what I am blaming for the fact that as far as affection in my life is concerned, no one has the appropriate amount of it. Everyone is burdened with too much or too little.

He’ll be surprised when he figures out that I have no more idea what’s going on than he does. Just a lot more confidence, and a healthy dose of cynicism.

I have a theory. Love is like mexican food. It’s better, but harder to get when the person giving it to you speaks another language. In fact, it’s best when you leave the country for it. There are essentially five ingredients, put together in different orders and called by different names. You never really want to know what it is before you get it. It can give you an outrageous stomach ache. It looks a lot worse than it really is. It’s messy. Most of it is canned or jarred, but it’s better fresh. The sketchier it is, the better. You can get it cheap, and you can get it expensive, and all that changes is your state of mind about it. Some need it milder than others. It’s best with a margarita. If you coat it in cheese, anything looks delicious. And Patrick hates it…. well not so much on the last one. But you get the point. There is indeed a case to be made for these similarities.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 21st, 2006 at 4:22 pm and is filed under Daily Happenings, Philosophical Meanderings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.