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I'm trying to make a decision.
Not a momentous earth shattering decision.. but a decision nonetheless. I figure a lot of other livejournal people had had a similar quandary posed themselves and wonder what their opinions might be. For that matter, my inner drama queen is prolly making more of this than it warrants.
Long ago, I started this journal as a hideaway of sorts. To write to myself and the occasional stranger who stumbles this way. Sometimes I speak more overtly on what is troubling me and other times I talk around what is on my mind. I've never shared its address or even its existence with "real life" people for lack of a better term. Calling them 3 Dimensional Beings just seemed too pretentious...
Anyway, yeah.. never shared it with non-strangers. One exception, I suppose... but she was many many miles away and also 2 dimensional. ( If you ever stumble back this way, Gig, don't scowl.. you knew being on television did that to you! )
Still.. have revealed this to no real life close friends, girlfriends, anyone. Not that I say anything overly scandalous or anything.. but you know, sometimes it's nice knowing I have a refuge if I chose to. A place where I do not need to worry about burdening loved ones if I feel the need to vent or explore certain thoughts in writing as I often do in my own personal journal. I always figured anyone who knew knew me would be likely to read into what I sometimes jot down more than is necessary.
Here's my conundrum.. I have a friend. A good and dear friend. A friend that brings forth an openess in me that even anonymity doesn't bring out. A friend who seems, for whatever reason, to enjoy my stupid little stories, dry wit, and ramblings. A friend that I have grown to trust to a degree that I had forgotten I could.
So, the question remains on if I will do something I never did for family, friends, or lovers and share this little thing I do here or hope to do more of here with someone I feel safe and comfortable opening up to.
Heh, then again, this really is a great place to gripe about said friend! Er... um... Current Music: Big & Rich - Live this Life
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Was randomly scouring other people's writings and saw something interesting.
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth full sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around for the coolest book you can find. Use what's actually nearest to you.
That actually seemed different from the usual fare and so I excitedly reached for the book nearest at hand.
Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet.
Sweet! Sure it falls under the coolest book to find category, I suppose, but it was closest. I had recently shared a rather fitting passage with someone, hence the nearness.
So, I quickly flipped through the pages seeking page 123! And the book ended at page 105. Sigh....
You know.. as I write this.. it's settled. I won't be daunted. Flexibility. Improvise. Will just break the number up... Instead of page 123... reverse it.. Page 32, 1st full passage:
"Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow, And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked."
Screw you, Kahlil Gibran. Current Music: Joy Williams - Hide
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Oh yeah... Star Wars came out today.
You know, in case you've been in a coma or something. Or are blind and deaf. In which case, you're reading this on one of those nifty braille displaying machines. So, for you, one of those words you just KNOW has to be a fun braille read... Nanocephalous.
The hype has been insane for this third movie in a trilogy that people just love to trash. Maybe not giant godzilla sipper on your taco bell root beer hype... but hype nonetheless.
I do have a Star Wars story of sorts though.
When I was little.. no clue as to my age as I barely remember this, just know it was in my adorably ugly days of the curly hair fro and buckteeth... my mother took me to meet Darth Vader. Yeah, apparently Darth had little better to do with his free time that hang out at the local mall's department store in those days. I didn't care why... I mean come on, Darth F'ing Vader! Yup, I ventured forth to meet this tall dark embodiment of evil.
You see, it was my destiny. I was a tiny Luke Skywalker, in those days. But with much less whining.
I think he had a cold that day because he didn't say anything. Breathed a lot, but no talking. Guess James Earl Jones was extra.
It was very surreal... like an evil Santa Claus. We stood in line between ropes.. waiting for our turn to.. I dunno.. shake his hand or something. I didn't ask why or what. It was Darth F'ing Vader, man.
I still have the pictures my mother took of this meeting. Once developed, she teased me for them, but it's a toss up as to my thoughts at the time. All of them I have my arms crossed staring up and up at him in either defiance or defensive terror. Take your pick.
I expected him to be surrounded by stormtroopers. Not a one in sight.
I expected a droid or an imperial officer. Nope.
Maybe even the plans to the Death Star. No luck, but I DID get Darth Vader to personally sign three Empire Strikes Back coloring books!
Which I colored quite quickly... I mean really.. who makes most of the pages of a coloring book depict scenes from the white snowy world of Hoth and pictures of white armor clad stormtroopers??? Current Music: Shakira - La Tortura
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Hardly a Delorean, but apparently my car and I have developed some odd talent for affecting time.
Ever since my employers decided to move a whole bunch of us out north of Fort Worth, time has been a bit.. flexible. My drive to work has ranged from 35 minutes to two and a half hours.. Well, that was how long before I gave up, made an impulse stop at the Kimbell, and then went on home. Fine, maybe I abandoned going to work earlier than that, but 2.5 is my story and I am sticking to it.
Anyway, if I leave late through neglect or laziness..not scrambling late.. then I make work on time.
Yet, if I am scurrying around late and rushing to arrive on time, nope.. never. Stretch time out another 10 minutes.
Now, if I leave very early just because..not as an intent... then I arrove at work in under 10 minutes it seems.
Yet, if I leave early specifically to get there early.. you guessed it, fill out the hour and tag on another 10.
My degree of urgency also seems to have a magnetic effect on the number of cops along the route but that's another story.
It's like time is taunting me.
Which seems par for the course, seeing as I am currently being taunted by possibilities, distance, and timing. Current Music: A Perfect Circle - Counting Bodies Like Sheep
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I return to this abandoned project... sweeping cobwebs from the doorways.. frowning at shattered light bulbs... and picking up broken pieces.
Which, oddly enough, relates to something I didn't want to bring to light anytime soon. So, it escapes into the first thing I type. Way to go, Nur.
Sigh...
I guess I'm back because I just need to write. Nothing special or profound. Just write.
In my mind's eye, I have always seen this little project as a late night closed down smokey pub with a small stage in the corner. A stage barely big enough to stand on... with a single microphone. The old kind.. the BIG ones with arching wires from the pre-TV days. A single light glaring down. Chairs on the table.. and if I am lucky a lone waitress counting her tips or someone with a broom pauses to listen to me hum softly to myself.. in the corner.. near the mike. If not... still... for one small moment, I feel the light... and it really doesn't matter who, if anybody, is in the room with me.
I enjoyed this for the short time I kept up with it and always have wondered why I just stopped. I want to thank those, who will no doubt never see this so late in the game, who wrote me when I ceased coming by. Thank you for the amusing concern!
Life just took a weird turn. One of those Casino Royale mountain top road turns. You know, the blind ones that are supposed to be made with the top down in some exotic car while you're flirting with some sexy accented minx in the car next to you just before she sends you plummeting off the mountain side...
Still, it just got... complicated. Not that it's all simplicity and dreams of grey these days... it's just what it is. No doubt piddling.
Also got busy... and someone painted all the keys on my keyboard black. Which makes typing tough.
So, a year later and no more closer to the top of that proverbial mountain with the wise man living on top of it, I return. Hopefully to stay. I have plenty of inconsequential ramblings to be added to the heaps of rubbish in this room.
And so I step past the bar and one particularly mean looking dust bunny to open the blinds... only to have the handle break off in my hand. Current Music: Michael Buble' - You Don't Know Me
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Odd the memories that pop up from time to time...
The other day I linked to a 75th anniversary image for Popeye. When I was a wee Nur, I was a big fan of Popeye.. not sure why. Even back then, I thought the cartoons were crap.. but I'd watch anyway like a little Popeye cultist. I think it was the timing of when the cartoons would come on or something... I do remember being 7 or so when the Popeye movie came out with Robin Williams.
Anyway, a little perspective there... it's just odd that I haven't thought of a cartoon in decades that I enjoyed as a small child and yet, when I suddenly heard of the anniversary and all the green lit New York buildings, I am all "Woohoo!"
Odd Nur.
Ah yes, the evil babysitter... I think I was 4 maybe... Mrs. Howard.. an evil EVIL old lady who watched somewhere around a gazillion kids in the afternoon at her house. She must have been Hitlers's babysitter... I swear she was a Nazi.. enforced naptime and other strict guidelines. It was because of her that I became adept at faking sleep and watching the 3 O'clock Million Dollar Movies that she always watched during our forced naptime. Ah... the memories of Elvis Week.. Disaster Week... Godzilla Week... good times.
Except for the spinach force-feeding....
I'm not one to be squeamish about veggies.. I love brussel sprouts... asparagus... and other atypical vegetables. Not squeamish about the greens at all... but I just don't abide spinach. Nope. Uh uh. No way in Hell.
I remember her trying to force me to eat spinach... treating me like an infant by trying to force a spoon into my mouth. I was (holds up 4 fingers), dammit! It just wasn't her place... she was paid to watch me... sheesh.
It's really the first memory I have of actual rage.. on both our parts actually. I remember her making the mistake of trying to push some spinach, that I took great joy in spitting back out, from my cheek back into my mouth.... her face all red and contorted as she railed at me...
Now that I think about it, that may have been when I acquired my taste for human flesh....
Gah, just thinking about it makes me mad all over again... stupid old bag... ah well, just think Monster Week.... mmmm... Monster Week... Current Music: Crowded House - Sister Madly
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