I know you were all concerned when I didn't post on the first day of the month. I really should have posted. After all, a lot happened yesterday, but that is why I didn't post. By the time I got home, I just wanted to eat and curl up in bed, or curl up in bed and then eat, but then I would have been short a pillow. Perhaps, I should start at the beginning.

I woke up and made my normal grumblings at the sun. I also grumbled at the cats as one of them had apparently decided to attack me in my sleep, leaving a nasty scratch on my leg. Of course, the kitties are cute, so I quickly forgave them and rushed about in whirlwind mode, trying to squeeze as much stuff as I could into my bag for the day. I knew before it started that it would be long, you see.

The next stop on my journey was the illustrious library, haven for knowledge, geeks, and nerds. I spent the day rather happily stamping books and making sure their presence would be known. Then I dashed away into the sunlight to meet up with Miss Kewl for some super fun.

Nothing is quite as kewl as watching dozens of children surround Miss Kewl and pay their devotions. These devotions involved candy, hugs, and random tidbits of information that one can only get from small children. I met an aspiring geologist who quite happily wandered around with a piece of sandstone, announcing that it was sandstone and a little boy who does an intriguing Mexican dance. Better still, I found out that Miss Kewl is a squishy. As best as I can tell, this means that she is quite huggable, so you boys better watch out. One hug won't be enough, you'll find yourself wanting to keep hugging for all eternity, while proclaiming, "MY SQUISHY" to anyone who gets too close.

I also got to watch Miss Kewl drive. She isn't as scary as me, so I won't be asking her to drive for the Haunted Hayride. I still wuv her though, even if she wouldn't do the Mexican dance. After that, it was more moments with Mormons. We're studying Revelations, so I should be wonderfully chipper and full of prognostications by the end of the summer. By the time it was over, however, I was in need of the joy of food, a big pillow, and a cat to cuddle with.

The troops didn't want to travel to the Roadhouse though, so I had to drag my poor roomie. He seemed impressed by the chicken critters, but not the potato skins. You can't win them all. Then it was home to be where the cats are snuggly and Bella is...Oh nevermind, no one needs to know that.

Today has not been full of too much. I am reworking my website in my head and realizing that my design abilities need an upgrade to do what I want to do, so don't expect anything drastic. In the meantime, donate to my charity and keep smiling for me, darlings.

Ah, I have so much to rant about and so little time. I guess I can start with men. Why? Because I spend enough time with them to have some opinions. I am tired of the games they play. I didn't enjoy the stupid games on the playground. I assure you that I do not desire to play them now. I have aged beyond my years and have no desire to be chased by children. If I want to be chased by little boys, I will take my adorable cat to visit one of my many "nephews". You won't win me with insults or ploys for pity. So if you want to insult someone, talk into your mirror. I assure you that will also not help. I am getting over my own self-loathing as per my New Year's Resolutions.

My other problem with men is that they make stupid assumptions. They assume that because they want something to be, they can make it be. I know for a fact that this does not work. I don't mind other people's delusions, as long as they don't act on them and hurt people I love. Perhaps, I love too many people, but I have seen far too many of them being hurt lately because delusional people refuse to accept reality. And in all of those cases, a delusional man has created that unhappiness.

Marcive is one of my many lovers, for those who are uninformed. It provides me with barcodes. It keeps me close to my microfiche. Unfortunately, some parts of the project grate on my nerves. Let's just say it is similar to my problem with men, they assume I am too young to know what I am doing. I assure you I am old enough to know what I am talking about if I care about the subject. Ironically, I do care about my work. I want the patrons of the future to be able to find obscure microfiche about Y2K. Yes, Y2K, and we do have microfiche about it because our government was concerned about it.

The high point of my day was attending my friend Marisa's bridal shower. I made her and her sweetheart matching journals. People seem quite impressed by my abilities. This is an art form that I should consider selling to the world. If I found the right venue, perhaps, I could finally afford that vacation I need to turn me back into the chipper Bella that we all know and love. I did get to meet a lady who may be the happiest woman in the world. If she is offering lessons, I will be sure to share that info with the rest of you. In the meantime, this beautiful belle needs to bounce into bed.

A troubled sleep can not hold me back. I must rise and step out into the misty morning. If I look into the pond, shall I see an arm glistening with droplets of water extended to give me a sword? If I peer into the mists will I see a beautiful lady walking toward me with a white gown trailing after her, seeming to sink inevitably into the unrippled surface of the water? Will I find that the beautiful lady I see is only a dim reflection of me? Will I find the sword she offers is not one of war but one of peace?

Will my strides take me over the crest of the hill only to see that the sun has burnt away the mist here? Will I see for miles? Will I see the future playing out before my eyes? Will I hear his voice? Will I feel his touch from miles away? Can he feel my heart calling out to him? Can he feel me holding him close while my heart pounds away into the darkness?

Does any of this matter as I become more than I was, yet what I was meant to be? I tire of people trying to control me. I tire of people thinking they have that power. I tire of people taking credit for my accomplishments. I am mine. (The only other being besides me who can take credit for me is the one who created us all.) Can you read? I am a woman who thinks, breaths, feels, changes and blooms for me. I admit that sometimes people inspire me, and those people I do love more dearly than I sometimes think I should. I admit that sometimes I need a little help, but if I didn't ask you, it's probably because you assume too much as so many do. (After all, I have been married or engaged or madly in love with more people than I can count and more than I knew about).

I got told how lovely I was yesterday. I know I am lovely, as I know that we all are. I just wish other people could see beauty through eyes like mine. I have no idea why it shocks people so sometimes to find beauty. The comment was followed by a question about the man in my life. Well, I don't have one. I have some boys who want to be my man, but lack the proper equipment. I have someone I adore, but even for him, I would not change me. That would be foolish, so if you see a change in me, it is because I want to change, so tuck away your conceit. Your advice probably got purged from my mind the second you deigned to offer it. Perhaps, I am conceited or perhaps, the five million other things in my head pushed it out.

For instance, I spent yesterday pondering life, religion, myself, and how many wonderful people there are in the world. I decided to visit the other LDS ward for church yesterday. *giggles* I felt right at home as many of my friends have transferred there over the years. Don't get excited, I am not switching ships right now. I just felt compelled to go there. My friends' son was being blessed, so I assume I had good reason to make a visit.

I spent Saturday in the contemplation of the Addams' family marathon, e-bay, paper, zope, plone, domains, making extra money to support my craft habit, and how to get my cat to stop sleeping on my feet. It was quite a busy day though my pedometer did not get to make lots of fabulous recordings. That would be another thing I have on my mind--pedometers. I could go on, but I really do have things to do besides list off the myriad of things that I contemplate every day to some degree or another.

On a more humorous note, I fear I have watched too much wrestling in the past few months. I have decided that if someone were to change some lyrics of HBK's theme song to "I'm a cheesy boy", Eugene could have a new personality. All he would need would be a big foam cheese hat to wear into the ring, and perhaps a yellow outfit, but all he really needs is that cheese hat. Think about it and keep smiling.

The sun goes hiding behind the clouds, and umbrellas suddenly appear, gripped tightly in big hands, small hands, hairy hands, pink hands, white hands--all sorts of Seussian hands. Of course, some confused people prefer to carry a big stick. They wander out and shake it at the sky, declaring the rain to be forbidden. I want to be one of those people, mainly because I could use a vacation (even if it was in a mental hospital). I keep coming back to that, but there is no point in taking a vacation for me.

My vacation fund at the moment consists of a cracker and a bit of string. I can't get too far on that, so I would have to vacation at home. I don't know how much more television I can handle though. I would be completely enslaved to it. I watch a lot of television while I work on the myriad of projects that have been piling up in my room. Someday, I will find people awesome enough to appreciate my handiwork and purchase it from me. Seems most people think I should just give these things away. *shakes head sadly* If I do that, how am I ever going to afford a vacation? Seriously, I do have to buy materials and my time is, as always, precious.

Besides, I think the books and microfiche have begun cloning procedures. I keep finding more and more of them that need my affection. I believe that I work on about six projects pretty regularly. I am far too busy to actually count them, but perhaps I will give the grand total this weekend. (If my home projects don't take all of my attention.) Somehow people seem concerned that I don't have enough work and keep giving me more things to work on, so my number may even go up. *smile* After all, it does do itself at my bidding. While the fiche are dancing in front of scanners and typing accurate information, I am doing my nails and getting a massage. More fringe benefits to go with the sauna in which I work.

A lot of my friends work with children. Some days it seems to fill them with such joy. Of course, the children they deal with are actually children. The ones who plague me are grown adults who should know to respect each other and each other's space, yet they do things that they know they shouldn't and then gloat when the other person gets irritable about it.

I got to attend a little talk on strengthening relationships last night. You guessed it, it was another of the now infamous church activities that I always seem to be attending. Of course, the main conclusion that I got from the two speakers was that communication is important. You have to be able to express yourself and willing to do so while letting the other party/parties do the same. I need to work on that. I tend to try my best not to hurt people and they tend to take advantage of that to keep being jerks, which means I have the wonderful gaping wounds that have bled onto this site from time to time.

So I guess I should figure out how to communicate with overgrown children. *grins evilly* Now how would I go about doing that? The following options may be useful:

1. Buy them a package of training pants and let them know, "You're a big kid now".
2. Keep simple toys handy to distract them when they get on your nerves.
3. Give them a teddy bear to hug and squeeze when they feel all alone.
4. Send them to bed without dinner.
5. As always, threaten them with the loss of cookies.
6. Seven syllables: "Don't make me get your father." (particularly effective if said father is a balrog)
7. Remind them that you are well within your rights to change their name to "Anselm", "Malvina", or "Hobart".
8. Remind them that children should only speak when spoken too.
9. Ask them, "Which day care center did you escape from?"
10. Soothingly inform them, "Now, now, baby, go back to your playpen. Mommy has to work right now."

Well, it seems I post less and less here. As always, I am trying not to let my faithful readers get a false sense of knowledge. I see I have failed for certain personalities are destined to think it is all about them. Ah, but it is not. It is all about crazy cat ladies, clouds of fire, and the reign of the indomitable fabric faeries.

The fabric faeries keep visiting my house and dropping off little gifts for me. Perhaps I am progressing too fast, for it seems I am turning into a little old lady. I like to bake cookies and coo at babies and mother my friends and make quilts to while away the cold and lonely nights when I only have my adorable cats to keep me company. I guess that makes the nights not lonely, but when most of the people I love best seem so far away or declare that they soon will be, I can't help but feel a little tinge of emptiness in the deeper recesses of my heart.

Then I have what can only be called pseudo-friends, those people who want so desperately to be my friends that they claim that title. They are kind enough to tell my other friends (directly or indirectly) that I said nasty things about them in order to try to keep me to themselves. They disrespect me and then feel they have a right to be hurt when I cut them off before they can sound off on what is wrong with me. I may be blind when it comes to love, but I assure you I can see my faults. When I get around to fixing them, I will. I will fix them for me not pompous windbags who obviously have not come face to face with their own worth.

But if you think you know me so well, take this little quiz to find out. Submit your answers to me and I will let you know how you scored, but won't tell you the real answers because if you don't know, you probably don't need to.

1. What was the nationality of the first man/boy who proposed to me?
2. Who was the first boy I ever had a crush on?
3. Tell me something that you know makes me unbearably sad to think of.
4. Who was the only girl to break my heart? How?
5. Who is my longest running best friend? What do I expect from them next month?
6. Have I ever called you in the wee hours of the morning? Why?
7. How many siblings do I have?
8. What/who is Magic?
9. Ultimately, what do I want to accomplish in my life?
10. Second grade?
11. Name one of my greatest, irrational fears.
12. What is my favorite movie?
13. Yes, this is a trick: what is my father's name?
14. List two of my favorite (as in most used) quotes of the last six years.

*shakes head* And I am so not amused today, that I can not even find humor to liven this up, so perhaps someone out there will find some element of truth in this upcoming rant. The slender thread that seems to divide conceit and self-loathing is often broken. Each of us has a certain degree of worth. We just have to find it in ourselves, not in someone else's eyes. I am tired of giving affirmation. I am tired of being overlooked if I choose to speak of my own feelings as opposed to someone else's. And for the 50 zillionth time in my too long, too short life, I am tired of being reminded that I am too young to know anything, feel anything, recognize my own feelings, or be anything but someone else's stepping stone. If you are confused by what I am saying, I am not surprised. Most people don't recognize how that are treating others. I am completely aware of how I am treating others and how they believe I should feel guilty for not always catering to them.

The problem is that catering to them is not helping them. In some cases, it seems to make them more convinced they are godly, and in others, they continue to abuse me. No one truly likes to be abused, and when people finally stop pitying themselves or rolling around in a low self-esteem, I fear to say that they find it shocking to realize they are being abused. They also find it shocking to see how much they have done and not got credit for and how they are taken for granted. I love hearing, "Well, Bella will do i!" when no one has bothered to ask me.

On a good note, I got to spend some time with a couple of beautiful ladies this evening. They dropped by to see me as one of them is leaving us for the west coast. *sigh* I'm always sad to see friends leave, but somehow I feel assured that I shall bump into them again. Anyway, I will eventually get my point across and soon I shall find some sleep.

So the fabric faeries and their friends the flower faeries should be having a wild party at my house today. The clutter faerie may also make an appearance to help me do what pack-rats do worst and throw some stuff out. It's really just a ploy to rediscover my floor and some shelf space. Someday, I hope to accomplish these goals, but it may be a long way off. I got distracted by taking a nap. Three people went home sick from work today, so perhaps something is catching. I better cover my face so that I don't pass it on to the faeries.

According to a book I saw today, I own three pocket computers. Ah, I can now look at calculators in a whole new way--the 1983 way. So whip out your "pocket computers" with me and learn to entertain with them. I have a book on that somewhere. Perhaps, I should rewrite that book and update it. You can still have fun with a calculator, but not just by typing in "0.7734".

Okay, I don't have a mobster in my pocket, but Ziggy might fit and she might be just as good as a mobster. In fact, her teeth are sharper than any razor, and her yowl is more dangerous than any bullet. So be wary because I have a kitten mobster in my corner.

I got to go to another baby shower today. You've never seen anyone as excited about ducks as a pregnant woman. Pam was also excited about pink, yellow, and the thought of baby kangaroos. I always enjoy watching other people open presents. It's another of my fine hobbit traits. Anyway, I need to find some sleep. Night!!!

So I am apparently about two. I hear this from time to time. I must be about two because I am always far too young to know anything. I know for a fact that little children know more than I did at their age. In fact, when I was in high school, I had grade school children telling me things that made me blush. I fear it can not have gotten better.

My book of the day is "The Egg Code: A Novel". I don't actually know what is it about, but I figure if I give the egg a body and dress it in a bright yellow radiation suit, you'll be able to read by the light of one of my co-worker's smiles. You have to keep your coworkers smiling or else they'll frown and a frown is a very dangerous threat.

To top off my day, I got together with Boys' Club for a little hike in the woods. I even got some affection from the great fuzzy wall of love. I was charged with the task of writing a poem about this great fuzzy wall, but I am too wore out to do so right now. Remind me later and I will see what I can do. Keep conquering pedometers, one step at a time.

I creep into the valley, whisper through the weeds
Shake my fist at my shoes, which no hobbit needs
As they slip among the brambles, keep my toes unbent
I know if they had curled, down I would not have went
So I sneak along the rocks, pondering removing my shoes
When I am suddenly accosted by the most wondrous news
For before me lies a chasm with lichen on the wall
And after peering for a moment, I see I am not too tall
So I slip along the surface, moisture saturates my clothes
And I giggle to myself at a joy that no one knows
For nothing is more delightful, nothing more inane
Nothing is more enjoyable, more perfect for the insane
Than slipping along the fuzzy wall of love away from the sun
And laughing at the people who thought rocks are more fun

Shall I find hope still gleaming
When the sun has sunk into the clouds
And demons woefully screaming
Try to wrap me in their shrunken shrouds
As I turn to scream, plead to leave
Before their darkness wraps me in
And I can not my pain relieve
By joining them if they choose to sin

Shall I find hope still burning
Nurtured by the sparks of love
That I fear are only my yearning
For what I have dreamed of
Twilight came to entrap me in an embrace
While I call out to him, wish he knew
How much I long to bring him to this place
Where he can see that my love is true

It seems like an eternity since I learned to love. Really, it is, and I almost remember that first spark set to burn before my soul had a body to fill. Still they tell me I do not know my own feelings. Even those who should know me better than that question this love that consumes me and yet somehow sets me free. At the same time, I find myself again accused of only becoming more than who they saw before because of a crush or a wish to impress. I don't wish to impress any of you or any of them. Perhaps, I am a narcissist, but just as I joined the church for myself, for truth, any change in me is fueled by my desire to not hide who I am in the shadows anymore. I don't wish to be derided, insulted, poorly advised, disrespected, or made to feel that it is all my fault if I can not love you so much that I forget I exist, so if that bothers you, I fear that you may want to find another toy to play with.

On to bigger and better things like a chocolate cheesecake the size of a large pizza--yum! Okay, so that is not in the cards right now, but perhaps, I will make one of those this week. If, of course, I can find the time. Time is always the issue with me. I finally defeated that infernal game that had sucked me in and instead of playing it again in evil mode right now, I think I shall leave it be. Besides, playing hack and slash with all those adorable creatures was really too much for me. So that was one of the many things that kept me from posting this weekend. I do have so much to devote my time to, anyway, so perhaps I, too, need to set aside my inner child and do them.

Saturday was spent scrubbing parts of my house. Some days, my house needs a good scrub, especially when the dishes pile up too high for me to refill my Brita water pitcher. How am I supposed to rehydrate without some freshly filtered water? I also had a talk to write for church yesterday. Yes, they let me speak in public. Oh wait, I do that here from time to time, though I am not sure how public this site is since I am evil and don't have a note system. (I just have the feeling some of my confused readers would waste server space with things that truly are not useful. You give people the right to respond and they think it is their forum to bash, deride, or just show off.)

Sunday, of course, was spent at church. Then it was spent dozing off in various locations from the couch to the bedroom. Somehow, however, I managed to not get enough sleep and wake up this morning wishing that I could crawl back under the sheet, wrap myself around my fuzzy cat, and fall back into dreamland. Instead I traveled to work where my brain was so befuddled, I was amazed it could process the concept of making those books go away.

I did have the pleasure of seeing my Babe of the Month for April though for lunch. I know all the boys are jealous--they usually are. She even gifted me. That's right, she gifted me with fabric. Apparently, the fabric faeries accidentally dropped some gifts of at her house by mistake. I even have some ideas of how to incorporate it into my wardrobe. I only have one problem--that pile of clothes waiting for completion or repair that is nestled near the makings of a billion journals and a baker's dozen of quilts. I must find motivation and some time off to work on these things. And for some reason, I feel that it is incredibly important that I do so. Hmmm.

So I went home and took a nap. Yes, that means I did not get around to cleaning up the piles of projects in my collection. Instead I got some needed z's before heading out to what is normally Boys' Club. Laura (not Miss Kewl, the other Laura) joined us, adding to the wonderful aura of shininess that we already exhibit. We played a little Mormon Bingo and then moved on to tossing a Frisbee. Laura and I exhibited fine hobbit characteristics by ditching our shoes and roaming about barefoot. Then we played the Worst Case Scenario Survival game, and I can state that the old adage of "when all else fails answer C" does not actually work. Now I am observing my television and pondering what I can work on to eradicate the piles of crap I need to do for the next thirty minutes. Of to see what I come up with. Dream well!!!

What brings us here, where the story is told
As our skin withers, our minds grow old
What brings us here, where our flesh has been
Burned and scalded by the very taint of sin
What brings us here, where we can not see
Beyond what was, into what should come to be
What brings us here, my darling lass
Where so much pain has come to pass
What brings us here, what can set us free
Dare he look past his shame to what I see?

I see too many people who continue to deride themselves for past mistakes and others for past wrongs. I feel completely justified in mentioning it. Why? Because this journal is about me, and I have more than seen it in me. Of course, I have decided to get over it, and Heaven help the person who tries to harm me or push me back into that glass box of pain.

Anyway, I stumbled across all sorts of intriguing things in my little world. Today, I found this. A prize to the first person who tells me what made me find it. It's not a hard question, just a quest to see who is still out there listening and whether they are really hearing or only hearing what they wish me to say.

Seems we have lost so many of the finer arts in this day--the art of truth, the art of quality workmanship, and the art of love. I mourn for those who wish to feel love in their loins rather than in their hearts. At the same time, I find myself annoyed by their constant references that I must be just the same. "Oh, you're just not interested in ---- because he is not hot." "Oh, yes, ----- is hot. Everyone has had a crush on him." "You just don't like me because I am not (Mormon, dead sexy, a hobbit, fill in your own adjective or noun here)." Yes, thank you. I know my crushes. I can tell the difference, and thank you again for your faith in me. I am glad I am so shallow and didn't even know it. In fact, I thought there were depths of me that not even those who claim to know me best have seen.

I noted no one was quick to jump in and answer my survey. The one person that I forced to take the survey (who I was sure could answer most of those questions in a satisfactory way) didn't do such a good job even. That leads me to believe I bury myself deeper than most casual observers will ever reach. That, perhaps, is why I love most of you only as one loves a sister or brother, and it will go no further than that, so mourn your loss if you must, but don't ask for my pity. It happens to all of us. Lots of things happen to all of us, but we all want to think we're unique, don't we?

*shakes head* Ah, but to speak of that would take far too long and I have far too much to do. I have far much to do that, to quote some people I work with "is not in my job description." Somehow I became the maid and mother to half the world. They expect me to clean up after them, take their calls (seriously, I get calls for people who have never had my number and people who have not lived there in over five years), and if I expect a little consideration, I better just slap myself across the back with the whip to save them the trouble of having to do so. I assure you that I am near my breaking point, but don't worry, I'll buy you all some tissues if I decide to do something rash and good for my health like tell my overgrown children to go out into the world alone. Of course, the stress could kill me, but I am of hardy stock, so don't you worry about that, darlings.

On another note, I did get to spend some more enjoyable times with the shiny, happy people. We got some more Revelations in before an adorable little girl came over to show me more of her neopet plushies. The kids are onto the fact that I do enjoy a little child-like wonder from time to time. Whatever will I do?

Then we all ventured out to see how much food we could stuff into ourselves before we popped. A rather large group (a whole dozen of us--the Shiny Dozen, perhaps) made our way to the Roadhouse and created some peanut chucking havoc. I got a strawberry daiquiri since I don't drink, as much as a stiff shot of something could probably erase all the memories and worries that haunt me for a time. I prefer to find my solace in sleep, however, so I am off to bed.

The sun grows brighter before its decay
Pushing out its last rays as if to say
That it wishes it had more time to live
And has so much more light to give
But the gases run out, the sun fades away
And then they realize she brought the day

"How strong is your faith?" She asks me raising her dark eyes to gaze into mine.

I say nothing for she knows it all. She alone knows what strength is in me and how it binds me here. She alone sees the light in me even when it has flickered almost out and I have none to give. She alone listens, She alone has heard me weep. She alone has faith that these things that I know are true. You think you know who she is, but I don't think you do.

So, anyway, I woke up with a horrid headache today. The beautiful sunlight that comes seeping through my window at work did little to improve this, so I decided to come home early. This led me to a nap which ended when the troops began arriving. My roomie came home from work. His family came in from the east, and my cats became excited about being fed.The rest of the evening was pretty dull with the exception of more people floating around the house. Ah well, this weekend will allegedly be good for that. Anyway, go to sleep and quit worrying about what hobbits are into. We shall find some excitement eventually--my bare feet and I.

Sunlight comes to take me in
But it can not break through again
And get past these simple shades of gray
A musician touches my heart, strings to play
As the laity has, tainted by the chef's hands
Where demons play and no one understands
I reach out, pull me back into the sway
Of this peace, simple shades of gray
The anger flares up, want to kiss it all away
All of those who never heard a word I say
Simply seeking after the love so freely given
While my compassion is worn, overdriven
By giving so much with no thought of receiving
Simple shades of gray accent my grieving
As I weep into the dawn, begging for release
From the music that refuses to give me peace
As the musician unknowing plucks the string again
And I feel forbidden pain once more begin
While others step up, think they know the tune
And yet see nothing of what shall be soon
For I can feel it possessing, begging me to stray
Lose myself forever in simple shades of gray

Intriguing!!! I have noted of late that I speak more often in riddles and rhymes. I understand every nuance of every page. I remember what brought each thought to my head and from there to my fingers to my keyboard to more pairs of eyes than I think I know of. I can read every little hint of a laugh or a tear or a trickle of blood, but I know in my heart that no one else can. I also know that they scoff and say, "I understand." Honey, you couldn't. You could not possibly begin to understand and that is the point. That is why you come back here even if you tell me how sad it is. You want to see me light up again. You want to see my humor come forth. Some, I fear, even want to see my pain. They want to relish in my unhappiness and bathe in the thought that someone out that understands.

I do understand, in my way. I am crushed under love that is so unbearable because it makes me see beyond what I should. I can't explain it and if you knew me, really knew me, you would understand what I am talking about. Sita knows or would if she had ever listened. Aravan knows. I know that she does. Others just look at me as if I am crazy. Perhaps, I am. Perhaps, it is all coincidence that I find myself inexorably drawn in and overcome by the knowledge of things I should not know.

I find myself faced each day with the knowledge that somehow I just don't exist to anyone but me. "What? What does she mean? Does she know how it hurts me to read this?" I know how you hurt, darling, to think that I don't know how you care for me. In your own way, it is enough, but I have poured out more for people I barely knew enough to love than most people would for people they have loved all their lives. You can't imagine what sacrifices I make for my love. You can't imagine how it slowly bleeds me to death, for I fear that love is my life's blood, filling my veins and when I have no outlet and no recourse for the outpouring of that love (keep in mind that there are many ways to love and as fickle as you think me, I can only love very few so strongly), it begins to burn within me and slowly eat into my soul.

On to better things, since no one cares that I love and if they do, they only want the prizes one can get from that love, not the love itself which would be enough. I have declared the word international as forbidden for the rest of the week. That's right. Ironic, indeed, as it means I will not be able to answer the question as to what I studied in college, but it is a small price to pay for my ongoing happiness. I have also decided that the best name I saw today was Inkster. This sounds like the name of some terrible cartoonist gone awry who would battle Batman with the Riddler and the Joker while creating textual havoc upon Gotham City.

In fact, if such a character existed, I think Catwoman would have some competition as my favorite villain. Of course, the joy of dressing up in a printer's smock would not be as great as slipping into some skin tight leather. Hmm, maybe that is what I should do with my weekend. I do have those sexy pants that I bought for the hayride. Speaking of, that joy shall be upon me again soon. I wonder if I will have to practice wailing on people with big sticks again. I guess we shall all find out together. In the mean time, more fun with my piles of things to do.

So what happens when a pack-rat loses what is left of her mind? She takes a vacation day, goes to the Bermuda Triangle, and starts rooting around in pack-rat paradise? In my case, some of my garbage finally finds its way into the trash can. I swear, I think I found an archaeological dig site for my life. Most of it was actually rather dull--that would be the part that successfully escaped into the trash can. I did find my diploma though. *giggles* I really am a graduate. Now I have more projects to finish, mainly to eliminate more of my random stuff. That and watching too much television seem to have filled my day. Perhaps, tomorrow will be more exciting.

I was greeted this morning by my cat cuddled into my arms like a small child. He was even lying on his back with his fuzzy, little paws cuddled up to his chest. It is reassuring to know I am well on my way to being a crazy cat lady and my cat is there to help. Of course, I know I have other options, but the one that feels most right makes no sense and seems to be rather one-sided.

Life is just a wonderful string of choices meant to lead us in the right direction. For instance, I could choose to just turn and walk away from all of this--the things people say that confuse me, hurt me, and prove they don't know me at all; the job that I can do with almost no thought because it feels "natural"; the millions of projects that litter my house; the people that I love yet fear hurting simply because of some parts of who I have been (for who I am now, I admire greatly but most of them can't even see her)--yet I am still here. I am still here waiting for something that I know must come to pass though I confess I do not know what it is. *shrug* Not that anyone cares too much, but both the people who I think would understand (and don't seem overburdened with their own drama) are no where to be found.

Drama--now there is a topic. I confess I am a writer. I confess I have a vivid imagination. I confess that I sometimes find myself feeling a bit conceited. However, I do not invent creepy people to adore me. They crawl out from under rocks to cling to my ankles. I have been randomly told I can kiss someone when that was the furthest thing from my mind. I have had people whisper that I am beautiful in foreign languages when I am half asleep. I have had people randomly try to pick me up on the street. I have had creepy men decide I was the woman for them after a five minute conversation in which they talked consistently about drinking. And I believe three or four guys have declared themselves my soul mates. I assure you I would not make up these types of tales. I'd rather make up tales about hobbits cavorting on the lawn with lemon tarts and kegs of kool-aid close at hand.

Oh well, no one will ever truly know me. I am probably going to slip back into my shell. As much as love people, I hate their games and I don't want to play anymore. They assume that I am just like them. They assume I am playing. They don't understand that if they ask a direct question, I will answer it if it is their business which is usually isn't. They assume I just want to be led around on a short rope. There is no rope that can hold me to their game. I will break free and they are probably going to fall in the mud when they let go of the rope a second too late.

Anyway, I have a couple more thoughts for you to ponder: Door Number 1 | Door Number 2 | Door Number 3 Yes, those were my random songs of the day. Perhaps, I am meant to be alone. Perhaps, my attestations of crazy cat lady futures are a sign of things to come. But with luck, my prince will come or return and have the strength to claim and the charm to tame the dragon that guards the gate to my heart. I can see him from my tower, but no matter how loud I scream, I don't think he has heard me. My cat has heard me though. He did a little dance for me at the dinner table tonight. Ah, Rodney shall dance for me, but for whom shall I dance?

A certain state of mind, and I am not talking about West Virginia, is not a good state of mind. It is not good to care so much for people who can not see their own mis-steps. Those of us who do care are often confronted with being the scapegoat. They cast their pain off on us and expect us to kiss it better (sometimes literally), though I doubt they are aware of it. Such things give me a greater appreciation for the sacrifice Jesus made for us. As much as I love the people in my life, I can't imagine giving my life for them, especially knowing that they are likely to not appreciate it. *shakes head* Does that make me a terrible person?

No, I am not a terrible person. I am odd. I am short. I even have moments of great unpleasantness, but deep down, I am a nice person. I am just tired of people trying to take advantage of that and then trying to tell me how horrid I am when I lash out. I would apologize, but I swear I give people warnings that some things will set me off, so if they keep stabbing me with a pointy stick, they should expect retribution, even if it is simply getting blood on their hands. You can't be cruel or insensitive, know it, and claim you are not at fault. Heck, I can't be insensitive without meaning to be without feeling bad about it. It seems I am a rare breed these days.

It's days like this when I feel the most like fleeing before the storm. The things I love are doomed to bring me some semblance of unhappiness. At dinner, I was discussing my workplace with my friends and one of them told me that I needed to find a simpler job. I just stared at him. I love my job. I just wish people would leave me to do it in peace. It's complicated to explain exactly what I mean, and I know that some of my readers would misinterpret my words and I don't need that kind of foolishness. It certainly wouldn't make doing my job any easier.

Maybe it is the late hour. Maybe it is the gypsy in me. Maybe it is the resonating of my heart strings, so long underplayed and suddenly bled into life. I just feel restless. I am so weary. I should be asleep, but I want so much to break free of this for a while. I want to open my door and disappear into the darkness. I want to fade into obscurity, knowing I will not be missed and no tears will be shed. I want to walk until I am enfolded in the arms of the ocean, lulled by the whale song. I want to take a moment, a million moments to truly appreciate every thing of beauty that surrounds me before it is all destroyed.

I won't though. I won't walk away from the world that clamors for the little things I do. I can't pull myself away for an instant. More signs that I care too much and have lamented too long. Is it crazy to feel sad that I can see how others love me? I fear so much that I will hurt them. I always come back to that. I have so many friends that seem to slip away, get pulled under and I can not help them. It's amazing how in a room filled with people, overflowing with noise that I can hear one name or think one thought and suddenly be so far from that. *sigh*

Anyway, I got to hang out with the Mormons tonight. This is always a special treat for no one can love me more honestly or truly than my friends from church. I got to sit in a row full of beautiful women *smiles*. We were balancing out the back, learning about Revelations and the imagery therein. I find it very contenting to just sit with people I admire, trying to understand things that I think God wants to keep just beyond my reach. (OH dear, I am a zealot!!)

We followed all of this seriousness with our usual trip to the Roadhouse, where I ate more chicken critters. They were extra crunchy this time for added excitement, and the fabled peanuts of doom kept flying. Nothing to report aside from the previously stated commentary on my job (and more about what is wrong with the library. I'll get right to fixing it after I get that MBA and MLS and become the Dean *grin*.) Anyway, unlike my beloved Miss Kewl I have far too much to say tonight and have already said too much, since it's all a big riddle for me to ponder out later since I am too lazy to write in one of my paper journals. Anyway, sweet dreams of sugar and spice and singing mice, my dears.

Everyone, every where has there own little twist on old plots. In fact, in two seconds one can go from the originator of an idea to just some fly upon that wall. I like to be that fly, so pay no mind to me. *buzzes about the wall*

Still pondering why I care, but no one else does, so perhaps I should sprinkle some sunshine. *drops little happy suns all over the place* So what did I do today? Well, that would be a normal journal topic. I went to work where I learned about what is important to Louisiana. I live for moments like those--let's all celebrate. Okay, so the high point of the day was probably the appreciation that Barbara expressed for Patty and I's coordinated "yay". Hey, we look at books all day, we have to clear out the old insanity bucket somehow.

This evening I spent some time with my laundry. It finally got a little much needed love. In other words, I was running low on short-sleeved shirts and the thus had to wash my clothes. Yes, even lovely IMPresses and goddesses of love must sometimes do mundane chores. Sadly, that with some random weeding of the things in my room. Perhaps, tomorrow will have more intrigue and fun. Have a good one.