I said I was just going to carry over last years resolutions, so here they are:

Among the things I need to do this year is update information about my readers. Yes, I want to know who you are, so send me a message via e-mail or in my guestbook and let me know what keeps bringing you back here. I am asking that of all of my readers, so do it now. I don't care if you assume I know that you are reading this and why, give me some feedback. Yes, even you. *prods people with a cattle prod* Do it or I won't hook you up with cheesy pick-up lines and fiche loving this year.

Anyway, I shall be evaluating a lot of the random parts of my life, trying to clean up my world and make it better, and make myself more of the person I am supposed to be. Heh, at least one of my father Jeffs will be glad that I am thinking such innovative thoughts on a Sunday. He probably already filled out a little slip of paper with his spiritual, physical, emotional, and career goals to get himself going in the right direction for the year. I have to admire people with such energy and such all-encompassing love for those around them.

On to the how the year begins, It started with watching young Laura playing Risk against George of cherry tree fame, Gordon the Gray, and Ferdinand the Gay. These are my names for the pre-programmed opponents on the PS2 version of the game. If you happen to play it, you will understand. Just keep Ferdinand away from those noodles. He is quite fixated and I am not sure it is healthy for him. Of course, it does mean he isn't on the Atkins diet though, so he is bringing in the new year well.

Of course, I went to bed shortly after seeing the start of this new and exciting year. Why? So I could wake up for church, of course. Nothing says librarian like a wife who sniffs books. Nothing says Mormon like sniffing the scriptures. Aside from an incredibly long nap, I fear that is all I have accomplished in the new year, but I do have my list of resolutions and a list of projects I should accomplish. To those and beyond...

Reputation is what you are in the light; character is what you are in the dark. ~American Proverb

Character is what God and the angels know of us; reputation is what men and women think of us. ~Horace Mann

You can make a difference. You can change the world. Because you are the difference. You are the world. ~Federico Pena

All generations experience change. You cannot predict the future, so don't waste any time worrying about it. The challenge you must accept, right now, is to make yourself better every day. ~Jeffrey R. Immelt

You have to be like the pebble in the stream, keeping the grain, and rolling along without being dissolved or dissolving anything else. ~Joseph Joubert (1754-1824)

Do not rely completely on any other human being, however dear. We meet all life's greatest tests alone. ~Agnes Macphail (1890-1954)

Love doesn't grow on the trees like apples in Eden--it's something you have to make. And you must use your imagination to make it too, just like anything else. ~Joyce Cary (1888-1957)

If you don't have a plan for yourself, you'll be a part of someone else's. ~American Proverb

In the long run men hit only what they aim at. ~Henry David Thoreau

If you believe in what you're doing, it's amazing how much you can accomplish. ~Jennifer Stockburger-Automotive engineer

It's difficult to inspire others to accomplish what you haven't been willing to try.

Only love gives us the taste of eternity. ~Jewish Proverb

No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever. ~Francois Mauriac

If 50 million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing. ~Anatole France (1844-1924)

Happiness is a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864)

[T]he stronger and more radiant we are, the more we can serve as a positive influence in the world. The more happiness we bring into the world, the better it is for everyone. ~Dan Millman

Kind looks, kind words, kind acts, and warm handshakes--these are secondary means of grace when men are in trouble and fighting their unseen battles. ~John Hall

Our distinctions do not lie in the places we occupy, but in the grace and dignity with which we fill them. ~William Gilmore Simms (1806-1870)

All quotes aside, the question that faces us at the beginning of a new year should not be what it is, but for some reason, we all think that this new year is our new beginning. Where do we start? Do we cut all the ties of the old year and start anew? Do we do something wild and crazy? To we step out of our own shadow and laugh at the sun? Or do we stand in the middle of our current chaos and develop a plan, a strategy to become more than what we are at last.

I can't answer those questions. I am still trying to figure out the point behind one vacation day. There is only so much one can do in one day and sometimes it seems more fun to take a moment and try to breath. Of course, when you're being forced to breathe, it is worse, but no one cares to ponder that. I can, however, answer the questions of the season. What do hobbits plan to do more of in the new year?

10. Come up with another meal to round out the day.
9. Find streets and streams to dip our feet into, bare with no fear of glass or germs.
8. Only accept rings that are guaranteed not to be the one ring. ( I hear the best rings come in pairs.).
7. Not get caught the next time we set off fireworks.
6. Adopt some children to give pleasant and flowery names.
5. Explore the difference between a pint and a quart (using root beer).
4. Find cooler presents to give out on my birthday.
3. Get out from under the view of the all-seeing eye.
2. Not adopt any deceitful, hairless dogs that refer to themselves in the third person.
1. Dance, sing, and enjoy the shire life (much cooler than the night life).

And when all of that is done, I can take a nice nap with the cuddliest teddy bear in the world and awake to finish one of these wild and crazy projects that awaits me. In the meantime, I better spend some time doing prep work on at least one of those aforementioned projects, so go check out some other fun websites.

I have spent considerable time this holiday season attempting to clean my e-mail a bit. It is the center of my pack-rat obsession at the moment, but even I can not bear to look at the hundreds of messages that I leave in multiple inboxes. I also realized most of them were forwards of the cheesiest variety. I think sending forwards has become like a disease for some people. Obviously, I don't object to the occasional forward, but I do object to receiving ten or more from the same person in one day, especially if it is one that they received from someone else that they have to know already sent it to me. Besides that, I despise forwards where they didn't even bother to clean it up. You know the ones I am talking about. Every time they forward it, it duplicates the text so you keep scrolling and see it five times or it has addresses of the hundreds of other unfortunates who got it weeks, months, and years ago. Not sure why I felt like ranting about forwards, but there you have it. Another social disease, like cell phone abuse, that drives me batty.

Not to fear though. It can all be washed away with the infinite power of water. Water? Yes. What's that? It's a no calorie, no flavor (one hopes) beverage that a program at work is encouraging me to drink as if my kidneys are training for the Olympics. If there is a peeing contest, me and my bladder will be there. This may cause flash floods in the library though until our bodies decide to accept the gift of this extra hydration. I also have a feeling that some insomnia may be expected for those of us who shall be waking up from dreams of Noah's ark to flee to our bathrooms.

Anyway, that is all water under the bridge or over my teeth and down to my belly as that may be. I have other exciting images to place before you. Ziggy has become an even more entertaining toy (and a bit more disgruntled about her lot in life). She has laid claims to a paper bag that resides in the living room floor for her entertainment. Seriously, we left it there in the hopes of keeping her happy. For the past couple of days, she had been happily relaxing in her new house. Rodney even snuck in yesterday to see what all of the excitement is about, but he wasn't too excited about it and quickly came back out to play with the rest of us.

Ziggy, however, keeps returning to the bag. Today, I bumped the bag and realized the entertainment potential of the situation. The bag attacked in the direction of my foot. So I tapped the bag again and the attack was renewed. I then proceeded to poke at random points on the bag, watching it squirm and gyrate. This amused me for a while, but we hobbits quickly tire of such sport, so I went back to the book I am perusing (I was reading it until it started talking about Madame Bovine Ovary and then sounding like it, so now I am skimming and thinking that it is not really the murder mystery it appeared to be.) Then the bag rattled in that way that bags have, and Ziggy popped out to inspect the side that had last been poked, looking completely offended that the bag was no longer playing with her. Poor Ziggy. She leads quite the disappointing life without nearly as much love and fun as a kitten deserves. Maybe, she should drink more water?

Water water water. Can I express my love for it enough. I can apparently not express this enough. I try to express it with my frequent trips to the bathroom, my green jug of chugging, and my desire to participate in this excellent program at work. Ah, but the water jokes must wait for another day. If the library doesn't flood due to the high number of people participating in this program.

It really wasn't the most exciting day. I developed some pictures that proved that I am definitely not a photographer. This means my career as a photojournalist is now on hold. I shall have to practice the art. The best picture in the bunch was yet another picture of my cat being far too adorable. I could be biased, but he does take a good picture. If only I did, eh?

The words of God are not like the oak leaf which dies and falls to the earth, but like the pine tree which stays green forever. ~Native American Proverb

Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees. ~Victor Hugo

So if I had a fundraiser to improve the happiness of Bella, would you contribute? What would inspire you to do so? After all, I tend to not take handouts, but I do have a multitude of bizarre talents to counteract the bills I'd like to kill to help with some of my resolutions (namely, 3,5,7, and 8--it makes sense in my head and that is all you need to know for me to keep 1). Anyway, feel free to shower me with money.

Just don't talk to me about showers, rivers, babbling brooks, or any other water in motion. If all else fails, this new program will get me in shape from all the exercise I get walking to and from the restroom, which can be quite intriguing when one works in a library. Today, I got to weave around men carrying in counters with drawers, presumably for the coffee shop, and men observing cords that are dangling from random parts of the ceilings. The ones with the cords intrigue me. They are setting up cameras in the library. It will be like being on our own reality show "Library Larceny". Apparently, this is in response to the high number of people who feel compelled to get up and leave their stuff behind for an indefinite period of time. I hate to inform you of this, but the library staff is not responsible for your items. You don't seriously expect us to memorize every person who comes in and what they bring with them do you? We are super, superheroes to some, but there are limits to our talents. I'm sorry. I really am, but I promise not to tell you anything about Santa or the Easter bunny, okay?

For kicks, I decided to try out the pizza buffet in the "dirt mall". I hadn't been there before and I heard they had water (I swear the stuff is addictive--once you start you can't stop. Thank goodness it is cheaper than coke.). They were not too bad, all things considered. The random foods at the end of the bar didn't do much for me though. They had some noodles that looked overcooked, biscuits that seemed out of place, standard mashed potatoes, and some scary corn. They also had some little breadstick like things that looked good, but I passed on them to leave room for more pizza. Random dessert pizzas were also provided. I was scared by the majority of these, but the cinnamon sticks gained my interest and were sweet enough to make me smile. What more could a growing hobbit need than a sugar kick? (Bigger pants since the only way she is growing is out.)

Anyway, I have more words to place in other forums, so I shall go work on that. In the meantime, remember to water yourself and anyone else who stands too close. Well, perhaps it is not quite the season for tiptoeing through the sprinklers, but the weather did have us going there for a while.

I find that the easiest way not to eavesdrop is not to be there. Sometimes it is hard not to hear someone who is talking too loudly, whether it be on a cell phone or not. Sometimes, one wants to poke a finger in each year and sing a song about a lamb and a girl named Mary just so they don't catch snatches of conversation, but I fear that would be unladylike and so I just try to block out the sounds with the extreme clicking of swift typing. If that fails, the other options include visiting the fiche and, recently, visiting the bathroom thanks to the massive quantities of water I drink.

Ah, but a lady does not speak about such things. I've been pondering becoming more of a lady lately. Of course, I've never felt like one and anyone who has ever seen my antics in a skirt would probably agree. I tend to forget I am wearing them and charge boldly into whatever needs done, whether it is placing items on the top shelf or pole-vaulting across the room to save a poor kitty from harm.

It could be this particular quality that has me being treated, usually, like more of a kitchen maid than a lady. That could explain the dishpan hands, but not the state of my own kitchen. I blame that on hurricane kitty which would be what my cats become as they whip through and try to bring about my sudden demise. Wouldn't that be a loss? Yep, time to wash the dishes.

Hope, in a word, is the Savior. Hope is a part of the deity in us that attaches us to the Savior. Don't let that thread be cut. No matter how tenuous or thin it might be, there is always hope. ~John H. Groberg, Hope

It's amazing how tame the old movies seem in comparison to the ones we see today. Women and men are rarely seen in anything that reveals more than a shoulder or perhaps a knee. The story seems to be leading to something racier, but, in the end, they realize that they still do love the person they married or something equally as unacceptable to the average modern viewer. After all, we have a trend for quick marriages and even quicker divorces. I don't get it and that is probably why I stay out of the game.

Of course, I may be in the wrong business--you know, the business of books. They all have names, but we assign them numbers and give them a happy place to live. Fits in fine with the way the world is these days, anyway. We all have numbers, and, most of the time, we are judged by those numbers. You're a GPA, an account number, a social security number, or, if you're lucky, someone's real number one. My number is small but not a one digit. How sad is that? Yeah, I don't expect my readers to get that. My life has never been lived in such a way you could read me (even if you read this, you still can't read me).

I took a little break from the magical fiche to slap some labels on books today. It's amazing how many books three librarians can appropriately label in under an hour, despite all interruptions that may come our way. Yes, I am alluding to the wonderful side effects of drinking lots of water. We were floating along happily through life. Oh, yes, if you drink enough water, you're always floating. Anyway, got some more love to write for a different audience. Some days I wonder why I bother. Got an answer for me?

So when hobbits have angry tummies, what happens? They stay at home. They begin watching old movies. Their mind becomes even more full of inane information that they can toss out at the drop of a hat. I just thought I should warn people that I may go on and on for hours about Margaret Hamilton's real nose. Trust me, it's much more scary in its real state. Don't worry, when you come back from seeking out pictures of Margaret Hamilton and trying to figure out what on earth I am talking about, I will still be rambling about something so random that no one, even me, will be sure where it came from.

Man, my eyes are so tired, but my angry body won't let me sleep quite yet. I did make it to Institute this evening, but the free cookies afterward may have contributed to the angry body problem. A little too solid and crunchy for a hobbit such as myself. Mmmm, sleep. Come here, pretty sandman. Can I call you...?

Before too long, this water program may have caused us all to completely lose our minds. In the meantime, we are still free to crack jokes about bladders floating away, turning into water elementals (which I never could talk a DM into letting me play for some reason), or becoming a water-based planet for our own random islands of skin and random floating chocolates.

Of course, all that water comes in handy for cleansing the palate of multiple chilies. I prefer to make kamikaze chili with a little of every kind and save myself the effort of finding the perfect one, however. I have taken to being lazy from time to time. In the area of chili consumption, I figured quicker might be better. After that, I went out to play a fun game of sort-de-cars. You wouldn't believe how quickly one can get blocked in when free food and a tiny parking lot are involved. I have never seen so many cars in our parking lot (except when the construction workers had half of the lot blocked off). Anyway, the very thought wears me out.

Slow tangles, slipping in
Like memories of a sin
Never committed or desired
Yet still caused, fired
Off like fireworks on lips
That bring to life what slips
From veins to earth
Iron tangle, fetid birth
Of rage, of pain, anew
Into a world you knew
You could claim, own me
Like the vision you see
But I'm invisible, wind
Silent heart, betrayed friend
Sitting alone though so full
Of tainted rage, a school
Of knowledge they can't tap
Two, angel and demon, sap
Strength, love, all that
Could have been, sat
Staring at headlights
Passing, colliding, nights
Alone under felt green
Does he know, was I seen?

It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything to anyone but me. That is the way of poetry. It is sinister. It creeps in and tells your secrets and tiptoes away laughing because no one but you is ever set so afire by it's verse and meter. No one but you knows why you chose these words and strung them together this way. Even if you just found a page from a chemistry manual so moving you just broke down the phrases into smaller bits and spit them out again. Not that anyone needs to be reminded of my passion for the "poetic" works of others. It ceases to be poetry when you write it solely for praise, profit, or prestige. Then it is just drivel like most other things in this world.

My head feels too heavy to be flippant at this moment. Most days I want more and more to slip into my dreams and hide there. Of course, I want that until I am reminded that most of my dreams involve zombies, trailers, water, and attack kitties. Wait, the attack kitties are what usually bring me back out of the dreams. They didn't try to do that this morning, though. Something must be off in the world. They let me sleep in until a blissfully late 10:30.

I confess I have spent another somewhat unprofitable day. I was hoping to post another entry in my infamous story, but my muse has deserted me. She may have got washed out or scared away by the leaping, handyman who has been fixing his bathroom. My roomie discovered more good-ole quality workmanship in the way of a putting faulty pipes into a new structure and covering it up with silicone. Silicone can make anything better, right, boys? *rolls eyes* So he has been roaming back and forth, turning off the water, banging, asking me to produce all sorts of random things, and then asking me for things I already produced that have crept under piles of paper and plaster never to be heard from again. Home repair is a wealth of humorous thoughts. Mourn my absence of humor. It'll be back soon unless my roomie's pig cat ate it, which reminds me, I think it's time to shoo him away from the trash again.

Some days I wonder if a bell just rang. Bulls are running through the streets. Small children are exuberantly celebrating for unknown reasons. People are racing to pick up their phones and see who is on the other end. People feel compelled to compete with me or walk over me so they can feel more desirable or talented or something. Doesn't make me want to continue to play well with others, but as any fool can tell you, I tend to keep trying to be nice.

As the Healer of Hearts and Goddess of Love, I sometimes find myself back into the same situations. I am currently in the throes of planning a dinner and a dance for the most wonderful people in the world--my friend. Of course, some people who wouldn't know how to treat me as a friend if they took special classes to educate them on what constitutes a friend. I don't have time for that though. I am busy plotting the continuing advancement of partying. Ironic how the girl who can't remember how to have fun has a knack for generating it. As always, I'm too tired to say anything that will move mountains, but I am sure I can inspire the cats to run through the house.

As if people didn't have enough reasons to be afraid of flying, I read an article this morning that added one more reason. Some passenger in Florida freaked out and bit someone. Of course, the implication that he may have been under the influence of something was made, but still, you never know when one of your fellow passengers is going to get hungry and nibble on you. Kind of makes you wonder if the other passenger was wearing scented body lotion. "Hmmm, you smell like cucumber melon, do you taste like one." *munch* "You know what? I am not sure if you do or not, I've never had a cucumber melon before."

Let us from this day forward be a little better, love one another a little more, treat one another with greater kindness and look to God and live. ~Gordon B. Hinckley

We are God's children, and if we ever got that through our heads thoroughly and understood that completely, we would never do a small thing, we could never say a cross word. We would not use bad language. We would not criticize anybody. We would love everyone the way the Savior loves us. ~Marjorie Pay Hinckley

First, think big. Second, prepare well. Third, work hard. Fourth, live right ~Thomas S. Monson

Despite what some might conclude, this entry has nothing to do with my dinner companion last night's t-shirt. I did end up going to two restaurants last night and hanging out with quite a few people, however, which probably contributes to the thoughts that plague my mind today. I also got a story about the fable fifteen minutes of fame that linked in and bound some thoughts into neat little bundles. So we all know that Bella is a web diva, but what on earth does it all mean?

I sometimes feel that I don't have enough time. This could be a result of how much time I spend sleeping, but in my waking hours I do try to compensate by doing tons of things at once. While my deft fingers strip fiche and make them hang out in closer proximity, my eyes can scan old e-mails and realize that I didn't bother to delete all of the old announcements of long ago database trials and other various things that only I would leave festering in my e-mail. My inboxes are looking more lovely, but my physical space still needs a lot of work (not to mention that I need to sell tons of stuff to appreciative homes for financial as well as space reasons).

Some days I want to lay all my jokes aside, put down the microphone and the laugh tracks and lay it all out there on the table. That would not be a wise idea. I know this. Some things are just better kept on the inside. That is what I tell myself every time that I get a stomach virus. I have been lucky enough not to have one of those recently, but the stromboli I had for lunch yesterday gave me horrible indigestion. I think I may have to give up eating those things. They do wonky things to my system.

Of course, most of my systems are probably faulty anyway. That's why I crack jokes about the effect that the water program has on my delicate system. That's why people feel they need to question me wanting an RSVP for a semi-formal occasion. It's all good though because eventually they will get the point that it is about having a good atmosphere and lots and lots of fun. As I mentioned, I am a big fan of fun despite finding it has eluded me most days.

On another sweet note, I feel this obsessive need to make candy. This would not normally be a problem of any sort, but I still have homemade goodies from Christmas floating about. This is a result of not being able to get some people to contact me so I can give them their Christmas presents. *sad face* I have so many presents awaiting their intended recipients that some days I feel I have failed my friends. I know that I haven't and life can make the widest gaps between two people who care about each other, but I just wish I could find a way to fix that in a more timely manner. I suppose I could try randomly crashing their houses again. It worked well before, but that was before they told me that they now have a third job. Hmm, I feel compelled to stop typing and make another phone call. Have a good one and send a note to a long lost friend. Much love...

You hear it sometimes like a gentle, familiar, yet foreign strumming of the ears. A soft rise and fall in the conversation. The first notes of a song you thought you forgot. The whisper that reaches into your heart and twists it around. It's like realizing that you always knew how to dance if you'd just let your hips and knees loose to lead you along.

I wonder sometimes if each of us is a dim reflection of someone who has already lived. A beautiful woman is but a dim reflection of Aphrodite, Helen, Juliet, Cassandra, or Roxanne. A writer is only a shadow of those who have already written--Hugo, Thoreau, Hawthorne, Shakespeare, Browning, Keats, Teasdale... What do you write? Who reads your words? Who appreciates your words enough to pay for them before your time has passed?

Most authors tend to die penniless, never having been appreciated in their own time. It's after their death that people realize what talent they possessed. Not that people bother to read anymore. They want everything acted out and spit out on the big screen. Obviously, my television is currently experiencing technical difficulties or I would be staring at its shiny surface, trying to lose myself in the banality of the big screen. Instead I am here remembering the world all too vividly and realizing that I am far too attached to things that mean nothing.

That is not to say that my friends mean nothing. I have quite a few of them and each of them has an intrinsic value. If not, I would probably be more hurt by the way they treat me sometimes. They would assure me that I am imagining it all and they treat me admirably. They would assure me that they love me and it is an unselfish love, but most of them are too busy telling me how fabulous they are to notice when they insult me or hurt my feelings by insulting one of my great loves. Ah, love, love is always on my mind these days.

It is a natural result of planning a Valentine's Day dance, I know. I have visions of hearts and couples dancing in my head. I have a billion ideas racing through all at once (some of them utterly bizarre and others hopelessly complicated). I am trying to keep it simple since simple is more fun, but if time doesn't speed up, I may fail. Ah, to be young and able to relax. Anyway, I have some random food I need to finish up for a pot luck, some cleaning to do, and maybe if my muse is willing to whisper in my ear, something to write.

I apologize for the downtime. It is inevitable from time to time that even the mightiest server will be brought to its knees by the need for maintenance. The server that houses this lovely site is no exception.

It has been another fabulous day of pondering our lack of courtesy. We set up ridiculous rules for ourselves to follow, but we lose sight of the things that are important. We try to dictate the lives of some while we give freedom to those who will destroy us most permanently. Two people can be born of the same home and grow up to be so completely different that you can't imagine they even knew each other. That seems to be the consensus of those who meet me and my oldest brother. Kind of makes you wonder if he is a cell phone enthusiast, doesn't it? Well, I am not telling.

I did share a mutual hatred for cell phones moment with some random strangers today. I miss the old days of a librarian with a tight bun and dark-rimmed glasses shushing people in the library. I miss the almost inaudible silence that was only broken by pen on paper, pages turning, the occasional cough (which got a sour look from the old-fashioned librarian aforementioned). I miss the silent stairwells, heads bent in concentration, quiet smiles of bookworms passing in the aisles. I miss the solitude, the escape, the comfortable places to read a dusty old book without interruption. Why? And what does this have to do with cell phones?

Today being at the tail end of the month, I decided to release some microfiche back into the wild from the captivity of my desk. I tucked them into a box and trudged the long path from my desk to the home of the great fiche. I began to tuck them away into a vastly empty drawer. I was contentedly trying to remember if letters came before numbers when the silence was broken by a musical ringtone. I waited. The sound was repeated. I waited. It was repeated again. I waited. It went off again.

I turned around. A bewildered looking girl was pulling an eyepod earbud out of her ear. She stared at her purse. It wasn't her purse. Beside her sat another person, ignoring their loud little electronic friend while every person trying to concentrate within ten feet was pondering homicide a la the Orient Express. Another patron requested that the noise desist, but he wasn't that polite about it. The noise stopped (surprisingly without being followed by a long drawn out conversation about being in the library and not knowing why people were glaring). Of course, this was not to be the end.

A couple of minutes passed in semi-silent bliss. Then the same cell phone started beeping. It wasn't a subtle beep. It was a beep that could scare hens into never laying again. It beeped again. It beeped again. I turned around again, adding the fire of my glare to many others. The patron who had requested that the cell phone be turned off was on his feet, trying to lean over the corral in order to reach the offending cell phone, whose owner had decided to leave all of their possessions behind and disappear. He couldn't reach it, so he told ipod girl, "Break it! It's right there." I could tell she was tempted but she timidly refrained. By this point, I was thinking the cell phone needed some hair so I could give it a swirlie. Luckily, I had finished with my fiche, so I could leave, but that cell phone may have died today. Do you know the fate of that cell phone?

Not much else interrupted the general oneness of my day aside from the ongoing reminders that after a while having people butt into your business gets old. I have seen it myself. I have seen my friends struggle with it. With how much we all whine and complain about our own lives, it amazes me how much free advice and criticism we feel it is our right to give people. I am tired of being told there is something wrong with me for not wanting to be rich. I am tired of being scoffed at or mocked for not spending every free minute making myself beautiful. I am also tired of having my friends hurt or offended by people who don't know them telling them how to live their lives. I know my friends. I love my friends. I realize that sometimes I cross some boundaries, but I do not tell them to jump onto moving ships. They are smart enough to wait for the ship to dock before they get on. *shakes head* This world tires me, but I haven't got my walking papers yet, so it's back to the intricate art of making this world work for me.

"I'm not here alone, can't you see the men on my arm
Every single one of them wooed by my charm"
Why do you need that, want it so bad
That you injure your friends, forget what you had
"I'm not here alone, you're jealous you see,
That man here with you, he's really here with me"
Why do you believe that when no sparks are flying
He has no interest in me, but all he is denying
"I'm not here alone, I have all the muses at my call
They answer my problems, won't let me fall"
I hear what your saying, saying without speech
But keep pushing and all truth will be out of reach

It amazes me how hard it is for some people to just be happy where they are. How many times have I seen my friends racing to prove they're better (than me, each other, the world) and eventually get angry that the whole world turns its back on them and walks away. I can't explain what makes me feel so "up" today. I guess I am tired of feeling I am in some sort of battle that I don't want to fight. The battle seems to grow more fierce when it is for something I can't say I want (not to the extent that fools wish to believe I do.) I am pretty sure that no one can pin down exactly what my current goals are, but I dare you to try.