Being Alone is Really Freaky

it's a cloud
no a mist
fabric?
this veil that separates me from the color of life
I nearly touched it once

how many times have I sorta died?
again to self I must be nothing

Um, the crazy thing about getting older is how conventional I'm becoming. I thought I could just be independent of all the cliches but I find myself "wanting" exactly what I've been told I should want. It all goes back to the fear we are born with. The one that doesn't want to be alone. The one that wants things a certain way because it's comfortable. So people ahead of us in life tell us that X is the answer. They are sort of right and sort of wrong.

Well, those who never struggle never grow. Isn't growth better than retardation?

(Woah! don't get prickly I'm NOT talking about special people I'm talking about spoiled brats, who are "special" not special. Gosh!)

The conventional things Americans are supposed to want that I happen to kind of want:
an awesome career
a house
a lot of really cool friends
power, duh
a spouse

This last one just got added to the list this year. I realized that it's the only way to have a permanent companion in life. I mean going into a convent isn't practical anymore, sorry nuns, and the thought of being alone is really freaky.

Change, What!? Here? *NO! *

Oh Mocking Bird! How strange the circles come round.

Sojourner finally left. Though considering the fact that he had been fired, begged back, etc... it took quite some time to finalize.

I have no idea what this means for the next couple of tours.

I remember well how cruses got canceled when Mocking Bird didn't have a cover. We shouldn't get our hopes up though. The solution will be unexpected. Perhaps, finally, THEY will open that track up. I mean it doesn't make sense to lock it up when THEY know the talent pool is shallow. But that's just me being all analytical.

And on an unrelated note: I kind of like Vanity though I don't trust her sense. She always means well and I can appreciate that.

I Don’t Crash Parties

An example of comedy masking pain:

If you don’t look me in the eyes and tell me to be at your party I’m not going to show up. I don’t crash parties, even if my only alternative is stabbing myself repeatedly in the base of my skull with a loaded paintbrush, because my insecurity is this question, am I worth the bother? If I don’t think you want me around all that badly I’m not wasting my time.

If you do decide to invite me don’t be surprised if I don’t seem as excited as you want. Really I’m probably a little confused, I hardly get invited to important events and it’s scary to be wanted sometimes; especially if I don’t trust your motives but that’s another issue.

Make of this what you will. Still, have the time of your life without me. What does it matter if I get depressed? You’ll be distracted enough with those who do crash parties. I’ll just wilt in this corner behind this mask of indifference. I know this corner a little too well but it's comforting.