i believe in little rooms, like jack and meg once said. and how sometimes you have to go in your little room to remember who you are.

and so you put pen to paper and fingers to keyboard and give it a go. and it's just you and your words, and this big empty room. and then you find others and they find you, and their words and your words run about and hold hands, and everything is so simple and complicated and complicated and simple, that you can't help but smile and smile and smile.

and so i'm still smiling. it's just that i find it easier to write when i pretend there's no one around at all. for it's when no one's looking, that we're free to be ourselves--to act as we've always acted and to think as we've always thought. it's an illusion, and nothing more--a tip of the magician hat and a clever wink, to show that secrets are implied.

( ::winks:: )

there's these bouncy balls you see all over the place, and there are these big ones with glitter inside. and so when it's calm and perfectly calm, it looks like a plain sphere with gunk at the bottom. but then you drop it a bit, or toss it around, and you see all these irridescent sparkles that positively dazzle.

and it's very much like magic.

and you can kind of manipulate them just a bit, and have them twist around, or pulsate--but it's really best to just let the magic work. and so it's something fantastic you only get to see when things are all messed up.

this is why I still think there's hope for the world.

I saw a dead person today. Not a dead body--but a dead person.

I don't think someone becomes a dead body, until they end up in a lab or in the mortuary, or any number of places where the dead are designated to go. But when you see someone in the street, or on the sidewalk, or in a building or a car--they are still very much a person; someone who was in the process of doing the things in which the living do.

And today I saw someone, in the middle of the road, twisted in such a way that someone should not be twisted. And he wasn't moving, and a cop was standing beside him, and another guy was talking to the police, and he was lying beside his bicycle with his helmet on and everything, and there was nothing to be done.

No one was rushing, and there were no sirens. There wasn't the car that hit him or the guilty party at hand. It was just some guy--some kid, really--laying so perfectly still that you knew he would never move again. And there wasn't a lot of blood, and there wasn't any details--or maybe there was and we just didn't bother to take note. I was with Lena, and we really didn't know what was going on.

There was this police car stopped in the center of eight lanes of traffic, and it was all tilted. And we thought it to be terribly odd, because you couldn't see anything. And then we were driving by and going by, and there it was--this person. With hand over mouth I said he wasn't moving, and with hand over mouth Lena said he was dead. And then we went on living.

And at any rate, I've been trying to find some kind of news story about it, because I would very much like to know his name. It won't change anything, of course. But I would just really like to know his name.

I hope his family and friends are alright and okay. I hope they're doing as well as they can. And I hope there's some kind of resolution, because it honest and truly looks as though someone slammed right into him, and just kept on going. And I can only imagine what that must be like--to lose someone you love in such a way. And I just hope, really. I hope.

There was this lady at work several days ago and she took all these pictures of these kids in her class, and wanted to do some kind of final project for their parents and all. Aaand, she got way too close for what she needed--all of their heads ended up being far too big for what she wanted. And against my better judgement, I told her I'd help her.

(And I say against my better judgement, because 99% of the time I do anything extra for a customer, it bites me in the ass--no joke. You try and help people, and all they ever do is throw it in your face. People who work in retail are treated like shit--people who work in photo labs are treated like sub-shit.)

But anyways, this lady was fantastically nice and very patient, and so I told her I'd shrink all the images down for her. It's a process we're really not supposed to do, on account that you have to waste all the original prints--but I figure screw the company. Other than that, it isn't exactly a horrible process, but it is one that takes a considerable amount of time. And so I told her if she was willing to wait around and tell me what sizes she wanted each picture adjusted to, I'd give it a go.

And so I clicked on an image of a kid, and then I went under a "compose photo option". I chose the paper size closest to what she needed, and then I made each image smaller and smaller and smaller until she said it would work. And then I went on and ordered one of each modified picture, and clicked off to the side to make sure the computer understood the quantity ordered. And then we went on to kid number two. And I think there were something like thirty kids.

At any rate, we were kind of talking and kind of joking, because I don't mind conversing with people who are nice--especially when there isn't much of anything else going on, and when there isn't a ton of other people all about. And halfway through, she asked me if I ever had one of those moments where someone said something that would have made my life a lot easier, if I'd listened at the time. And I said yeah, that I was pretty sure everyone did. And she smiled and nodded at the screen and said that little boy asked her, as she was taking the pictures, why she was standing so close to everyone. And I couldn't help but smile.

I like instances like that. When you can make some small connection with someone, and are possibly able to help them out--when someone stops being someone you don't know, and turns into someone you could. And I like how we can learn from other people, regardless of if they're trying to teach us something or not.

01. Do you like this person?
As an actor, yus! As a person, I can't really say, as I've never met the guy. I do I appreciate his "eccentric" behavior, even though I don't consider it all that eccentric, myself.

02. How do you call this person?
I refer to him as Johnny Depp, or Johnny.

03. Which color do you associate with this person?
Black, on account that I always think of Edward Scissorhands first and foremost, when it comes to such a person.

04. What do you like best about his/her look?
I like that he tends to have a kind of laid back elegance without trying too hard. And that he doesn't seem too concerned with what others think of his personal appearance.

05. Looking at his/her character, what blood type do you think he/she has?
Erm, I don't know. O positive?

06. What do you want to tell that person?
That he's a top-notch actor, honest and truly. And I appreciate his ability to be in movies that allow me to forget reality for a bit. And that I should hope that he continues to go on and work on all kinds of snazzy things. And that he should most certainly work with Tim Burton more often than not.

07. What do you want to do with this person: hug, kiss or shake?
I think a handshake and a hug would be most nice--even though I'm not always fond of hugs.



I never tag people on these things, but if anyone should like to give it a go, I can give you an actor or actress, if you don't want to pick your own.

I've been thinking about this one kid I went to school with. He was one of those kinds of people who was so fantastically book smart, that he liked to throw it in your face. And so he'd go about with this kind of smirk, like he knew something you didn't.

And I remember this one time, this teacher told us to pick three things we would take if we happened to find ourselves stuck on a desert island. And it was supposed to be materialistic things, too--we weren't going for practicality, so much as we were trying to learn a bit about those around us.

And anyways, this kid, he botched it. He said he would take a flare gun, a hatchet, and a book of matches. He just couldn't get out of that kind of mindset, I mean--he just couldn't let it go. And everyone giggled. And he did, too, because he knew that he was being a jerk about it. And he just kind of leaned back and said something along the lines of how at least he'd be found.

And I couldn't help but think he'd be found, alright, but that he would also continue to be quite lost.

And so I sometimes think about these people I don't know and will never know, and I hope that they are doing well. I hope the people I meet, in passing, are doing well. And I do hope David learned there's more important things than always being right.

Had a dream that the members of The A-Team were discussing which foods they liked best at the restaurant down the street. Murdock was fond of the burritos, and Hannibal liked the chicken quasadillas A LOT. I'm not sure what B.A. or Face enjoyed--but I venture to say at least one of them would have been fond of the hamburgers. And so apparently this is how things go in situations such as these.

Woke up with the plague the other day. THE PLAGUE. And so it hurts to exist right now.

Got a phone call from Lena, and it was a bit like a hallucination. Slept for fourteen hours, and counting. Got up every couple of hours to strategically move about in the hopes of displacing snot out of my head--but still. Tissues all over the place, lots of liquidy consumptions, and the firm belief that if I were to ever lose my voice always and forever, things would be just fine. I can scowl at people, I mean. And type.

At any rate, I'm no longer shaking, and I can blink without excessive cringing, and so I consider a kind of marked improvement to have taken place. And while I narrow my eyes at a wasted weekend off, I can't help but think it's a reminder of sorts that perhaps there are times in which you need to slow down and slow down. And there are worse things in life, than having to pass out for a couple of days, besides.

Took Sadie to the vet's, and everything is fine and fine. Carried a bag of her crap to them, and got a shiny new tag that said she wasn't rabid. Got scowled at on the way home. Went back to bed and was met with weary sighs of both guilt and pity. Treats helped. Up and went to the park.

Went all about, and all about, and there was some weird guy I kind of recognized but not really. He started pointing at us and pointing at us, I wondered what the hell his problem was. At any rate, we went off in the opposite direction, and saw such wonderfully fantastic things like blue-blue skies and pwoofy white clouds--lots and lots of trees that swayed in the distance from winds we couldn't yet feel. And there were a few ducks and a few geese, a couple of squirrels, and this robin that kept opening and closing its mouth while staring at us. And I was kind of sad I didn't take my camera, but kind of not, because it's pretty much impossible to capture such things like magic and perfection and various kinds of feelings, anyways.

And we took our time, and Sade took her time, and she was careful to go this way and that, and to sniff things that needed sniffing, and roll about when things smelled just right, and meticulously marked as many things as possible--just to make sure those other dogs know who is in charge. And I let her do these things, and I always let her do these things, because the truth of the matter is, I can't just walk her on any given day like any other dog. Her allergies are about as bad as mine, and so the only time we can do such things together are when it feels fallish. And today it most certainly felt fallish. And so we were happy and happy and happy.

Saw "The Haunting in Connecticut" awhile ago, and despite having all the stereotypical elements of a classic haunted house movie, it still ended up creeping me out just a bit. But I think once you've seen ghosts up close and everything, any kind of ghost story is bound to have such an effect.

On a related note, the bit that made me most excited, was when I saw the kid playing Jonah, on account that he caused me to throw my hands up over my mouth in a supressed kind of squee. And the reason being is this: he looks exactly as I always pictured Holden Caulfield. Well, aside from the lack of grey hair and the super tall bit, and the deal where this kid is in a horror movie and all. It's the eyes, I mean, that does it. Something terribly sad and terribly real, reflected in such things. And so I thought good job, Erik J. Berg. Good show, indeed.

"5 Guilty Pleasures" in no particular order:

01. I don't like cute movies. I don't often care for funny movies. I think films in which people aren't blown up or hacked to bits are a pretty fantastic waste of time. However, I LOVE the movie "Babe". Yeah, that's right. The one about the cute little talking pig who goes on to do all kinds of wonderful things--which mostly consists of herding sheep--BUT STILL. It causes me to lose it in all the best and worst ways possible, and so I can't help but smile every single time I see it.

02. I actually like My Chemical Romance. It's a band I know I shouldn't like, and I know I shouldn't. They're so predictable in their overly dramaticly morbid kind of subtle in-your-face-ness, and yet I can't help but partake in the occasional "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)" and "To the End" and "Thank You for the Venom" and the like. And seeing as how I tend to listen to the same things over and over and over again, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say they would probably end up on my list of top 10 favorite bands. They'd probably be number ten, I mean--but they'd still be on there.

03. I enjoy either smelling like pumpkin spice, spearmint eucalyptus, or peppermint. Or sunscreen, once spring and summer hit, and do so full-force.

04. I like olives more than any living person should. And so, it would be well within the realm of possiblity, that I could consume near a whole can in one setting. Doesn't happen all that often, but it could, in fact, occur. And it doesn't matter if we're talking black or green--although green ones are usually best in slightly smaller quantities.

05. I like Pee-Wee Herman, and I don't think you understand--I think it's some of the funniest shit that's ever existed. And so I love the movie very very much, and I spent a great deal of time watching "Pee-Wee's Playhouse" as a child. And I can't help but think it's the best reminder that perhaps it's not always best to grow-up grow-up, because the moment you do, you kind of forget about things like cartoons and dinosaurs and genie heads and talking furniture--you forget about things that used to provoke your imagination.

I suppose I should think about things like getting married, and the like, but I must confess I find such things terribly boring. And so this is this is the kind of thing I think of, instead: ( how everything should end when it all ends )