Love. It's a thing that vexes and makes us weak in the knees and stomach and nether regions. It makes us crazy and makes us sane all at the same time. I actually fall in love rather easily, because as Patty Bouvier says in her raspy, smoke ridden voice, "I've got a lot of Love to give!" Fortunately, JubJub wound up with that love and not an unsuspecting baby... But I digress. I have been in love with someone for ages and I can't tell him. We've known each other for years but I still can't tell him because of that whole, "What if he rejects me?" fear. Frankly, I ought to be the rejection queen, but I'm not. I do not handle it as gracefully as I ought. Too many bad memories have left me far less brave than I used to be. So, I love this man. Some of my friends view it as a waste of my time and energy but is loving anyone really a waste? One must be able to give it freely without expecting it in return. One can wish for it, but not expect it. And besides, my belief in fairy tales is far too strong, probably stronger than is good for me. I know he's worth it and so I will hang in there and one day, will tell him how I feel. Hopefully, it won't be too late.

It's funny what sticks in my head. I have a memory for the most useless information, such as lines from movies and "the Simpsons" and song lyrics and people's birthdays. I remember birthdays for people that I was in grade school with. Why? I just don't know. Some things strike me, and seem like "YES! THAT'S IT!" One of my favourite quotes of all time is, "Madness in great ones must not unwatched go." from Shakespeare's "Hamlet". It always seemed to fit me probably because I have often wondered if I am a little mad. Then again, aren't we all a little mad?

Things have been strange. I don't know if anyone else has noticed lately, but things seem to be happening to everyone I know. I know, I know "things" happen everyday, but what I mean is that the shit seems to be hitting the fan for everyone. It's like a cosmic shitstorm hitting the conciousness of every day folk. I say this because this year has been, for me, inundated with death and disaster, and I don't even have anyone fighting in Iraq or Afganistan. The latest on this wave of disaster has been my father's best friend, the kindest man you will ever meet who is right at this moment lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life after having 3/4 of his right leg amputated because of some freak condition he developed due to his kidney transplant he had 2 and half years ago. It's so hard to see someone you love like that and all I can cling to is the idea that once he makes it through, he will be better because he and his wife are very strong people. I could barely keep back my tears in an effort to maintain a cheerful disposition for them both, although he was so out of it from the pain medication that he didn't notice my father and I were there.

Another thing is that my former choir director, whom I adore and is living a fabulous life in Beverly Hills now, was found unconcious in his home. He had a pulmonary embolism and he's maybe 42. Fortunately he is doing well, but still, this is what has been going on this entire year. One even after another and, because I am optimist I keep telling myself that it's going to get better. But the real question is, is will it get worse first?

There are times when I really hate people. It is in those times that I realize that when I'm having a bad day, it is usually the result of having other people impose upon me, because, in those days, if it were just me, life would be fine. And then there are those other days, when life is grand and everything is just fine. Fortunately, those days out weigh the others, but when the others hit, one truly feels it! I will not let it get me down. This will not defeat me!

I am not comfortable in my own skin. This is a problem for me. To people who don't know me, I exude this confidence. It is all a facade, carefully constructed to keep people at bay and from finding out the truth. But the truth is that I am a carefully constructed wreck. There are times when it is actually an effort for me to hold back rage. I can feel that I am on the verge of snapping but with my will, I manage to hold it down until it passes. And other times I feel as if I am the fool, skipping gaily along life's paths.

Usually, I just feel as though I am lost in myself, trying to find my way through the dark. Sometimes, I even get to see the light, but quickly, I make a wrong turn and I am lost again. One day, I will find my out and actually live a life without fear and that will be a joyous day.

What, precisely, does one write to people that are out there in space, nameless faces that I might've passed one hundred times on any given street and not know and yet, possibly, they are reading this. It's an odd thought, terrifying and freeing at the very same time.

Whenever I go to the airport, I am struck by the notion that there are people on planes or cars or trains or boats that I am never going to meet and they are never going to know anything about me and my life and vice-versa. It's like this crazy awareness of how truly insignificant that I am.

I think that is about all for today. We'll see, however. I might strike again!