There once was a boy who loved to fly...

I always feel like I should say something, on this date, of all dates. It's funny to me how the weather is the same as it was four years ago, how the cold rain stings the same, how dreary the half melted snow looks, how the gray sky still looms ominously over me as if I were just waiting to be squished.

Good lord, I'm all melancholy, aren't I? and, my toes are cold.

13487 words. week one done. blargh.

Yep, it's that time of year again.

I'm going to try to hit that 50,000 word mark.

I'm up to 1,200 so far.

Tune in for updates. or not.

*snarf*

Y’know. I’ve always found grudges to be a ginormous waste of time, with the exception of the original movie. I’m talking Ju-On. And maybe the remake with Buffy and Max. (Extra nerd points if you understand the references)

But, I do tend to forgive. I don’t know about the forgetting, because, I’m not quite that much of a stupidly optimistic boi that I forget when someone has hurt me. I am, however, quite willing to forgive. Call it a fault, call it a virtue, it is what it is.

Maybe though, my inability to forget is a form of holding a grudge. I don’t think I treat people any differently if they have hurt me. Well, okay, that’s a blatant lie. If you’ve hurt me, and are still around, a part of me is just waiting for you to do it again. Which is nuts, I know, because none of us are perfect, and none of us go without injuring another person at some point. But yet, I’m like the proverbial cat in Mark Twain’s proverb.

Okay, maybe you don’t know that proverb? It says, “The cat, having sat upon a hot stove lid, will not sit upon a hot stove lid again. But he won't sit upon a cold stove lid, either.”

As I said. I’m kind of crazy sometimes. So, maybe I do hold grudges, but I don’t do it on purpose, in a kind of, “Imagonnagetchew!” crazy, but in a “zomgpleasedondoitagin?” kind of crazy.

That being said, I don’t really remember being angry with someone for that long. Actually, the less I care about you and your worth as a fellow human being, the less I stay mad. I’ve always thought, time is a precious coin, why should I spend it on you, you jackass who just cut me off! Or as Morrissey so aptly put it, “Why do I spend valuable time, with people I’d much rather kick in the eye?”

Maybe this is because for me, anger often leads me to laughter as I realize how silly I look, fist pumping in the air, brow furrowed, angry lyrics shattering from my headphones as I review the latest wrongs done to me and mine. I mean, really. Really? Once I see that, then I get over myself and get to doing something productive. like raking leaves. or drinking a nice cuppa tea and noshing on a nice biscuit. with marmalade. or lemon custard. mmmm…lemon custard.

As far as the winning back of trust or friendship. My friendship and trust isn’t some brass ring that you can win at the circus. It’s something I’ve given you, and if you have it, you’ll always have it, because I’m not one for taking back gifts. It’s yours, to treat as you wish. Whether you choose to treat it as a significant and rare treasure or just another notch on your bedpost is completely up to you. Once I tell you you’re my friend and that I less than three you, that’s it. You’re in, you’ve got the key to my outer bailey, and you’re welcome to dabble your toes in my moat.

So, what have we learned? Three things, this time.

1. Once again, I’m fairly hungry.
2. I need to find new metaphors for friendship. The castle ones are getting old.
3. If I ever kick you in the face because I’m mad at you, then it’s just a sign I love you.

On first glance, both questions point to the same answer. But, y'know what. This question makes me glad that I tell those people closest to me how I feel about them. And that those who are close to me that I don't tell, know how I feel anyhow. heh. So, yeah.

But, then, I always hated those scenes in movies, where one person is dying, and someone close to them comes running up to them, and then, with their last breath, they manage to choke out, "I...love....you...*death rattle*" Personally, I think that is sooo screwed up. Because, sure, as the dying person, you got it off of your chest, but as the one who's left behind...what do you do then? I would just want to kick said dead person in the head and yell at them, "Thanks a lot, fucker! Now what am I supposed to do?" Because, maybe you loved them back, and now, thanks to a really bad decision, you can't do anything at all about it.

But then, if you, as the person left, didn't ever take the chance and tell the dead one that you loved them, well...you kinda deserve that frustration. And you'll have many long nights with a cup of hot jasmine tea and a slice of white stilton to mull it over and wonder why you never told them.

The lesson I take from this is two fold.

1. Tell those you love that you love them whenever you get the chance.

And 2. I'm hungry, and I think a piece of stilton with cranberries sounds really good right now.

Stupid song.

There's something about seeing oil and blood together that alternately makes me wince from memories of the military and miss my father. That and the smell of gasoline and dirt is just adding to the memory slush.

Talk about some conflicted emotions, hah!

Sometimes, it's enough that someone knows all of your faults, and still accepts you despite them. And perhaps, it's like the old quote says. "Once your reputation is ruined, you can live quite freely..."

I had a strange dream, that I was involved in saving the world (of course), and ended up in the 1980's, and living near some old friends, who were of course, young. And I got involved in a conversation with some guy about 'the man' and he asked if I believed in him. And I said that I thought that the man was necessary, because it was an unfortunate necessary evil that in some cases, individual freedoms must be curtailed for the greater good.

It's troubling to realize that my subconscious is a rampant republican.

heh.

Somedays it just doesn't pay to get out of bed...

Had a wierd bad day today, but it rained, so I didn't fall off the roof. So, that was at least enough to make it a better day than it could have been.

And yeah, that was a weird non sequitor sort of thought process, but deal with it...

I am.

And, in the vein of idiocy, while I am at it...well, it doesn't need to be said. the icon says it all...