I keep thinking to myself that “I’d rather be doing this with Jen.” I was sitting here just now, watching television by myself, being a little silly, and her face when she laughs, the sound of that laughter, occurred to me. Just played lightly across the surface of my mind. It felt good.
I hardly know her, though I’ve known her for years. She’s thousands of miles away, but closer to me than Sara in more ways than physically.
I just met a great guy. Well, he seems great so far. He has a very handsome face and quite a lot of charm. He also works in the computer tech field, which is nice because I’ll be able to have a broader range of conversations with him than with people who aren’t. He’s young, but not too young, and what I’ve seen of his body appeared to be quite to my liking. He has captivating eyes and a familiar sense of humor that I enjoy.
He also lives in Phoenix and does not drive. I also met him at Rocky (not the best place to try to pick people up if you’re interested in a serious relationship or a lasting relationship or a healthy relationship). He also smokes, which is something that I can tolerate but that can really turn me off, and which I don’t allow to occur in my domicile.
He also left me with a very nice kiss. I won’t try to describe it, I’ll just say that it was very appropriate, and very, very nice.
You can meet him at my party.
I was out late, up late, last night. I didn’t roll into bed until 4, and I didn’t roll into sleep until after 5:30, if my trying-to-get-to-sleep-at-the-time memory serves me correctly. I woke up at first this morning at 10:30 and then lay in bed until 11:30. I’ve always liked taking an extra hour or so to just lounge about in bed before the day starts. I really makes things feel okay. Starting the day off slowly seems to help remind me that there is no real reason to hurry through life. No reason to “Save Time”; time is for spending.
Did I tell you I’ve basically finished my home hunting? That little house I wanted to rent, the one that was right in the neighborhood I originally wanted, the one that was $125 less/month then the next cheapest rental in even the extended area I was looking in, through some amount of finagling, will be mine. Because my work hours do not allow me to meet with the rental company offering it, I had to do some things out of order to get an application to them before anyone else’s and get it paid for as well. I have yet to meet anyone related to the house, though I have spoken to several of them over the phone. Regardless, within 24hrs of the time the first person was officially allowed to see the interior of the house, 6 applications (in addition to mine) were submitted. Mine was the first, and the first processed as a result, and (because I have “great credit”) it was approved first and I get the house. Hooray!
There is a beautiful movie opening today. I really wanted to be able to go see it with Sara, but I fear that that really never had a chance of happening. She may humor me once in a while, but she is really charged about this movie, and I don’t think she can wait until her schedule allows for me before she sees it. Really, I think that considering the movie’s themes, she should go see it with someone she loves today, not someone she loved years ago and has since forgotten.
I feel like I must have something to say. Every time I try to think of something to put here, the only things I can think of are passing distractions; the new REM album or the movies I watched this weekend or the number of lunches I had today. Nothing of value. Nothing with substance. Someone remarked to me recently that I “don’t know how to have a conversation that isn’t serious.” I said something like “I never understood small talk” and went back to talking about what was on my heart and mind. I think they just sighed and tried to pay attention.
Is that what you are doing now? Sighing, trying to pay attention as I type miles of text about my own trivial experiences? I thought at first that the idea of an audience would just encourage me to write, but I think now it scares me. Some of the people who know that they can find me here… I don’t know… I just feel like I can’t be myself when they’re around. I have no way of knowing whether they’re around, either.
Look, if you don’t really care, why are you still reading? Is this some form of rubbernecking? Are you hoping to see a glimpse of someone else’s pain, and willing to wade through everything else I spew out? If you do care, why did you let them remove the nearby Taco Bell?