Blinders. (or) Your habit is fine, until it interferes with your job.

I don't know what to feel here. I don't even know if I should say anything. To anyone. Maybe to one person. Maybe even that would be getting too close. I seem to no longer work with any exs now, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I should be happy, and that's precisely the reason I'm not. I never wanted to face this scenario because I knew I would be almost forced to feel joy from the misfortune of another. I can't do it. I feel bad, and I know there's nothing I could do to help. Nothing I want to do to help. No way I could help her. Not unless she never knew about it. The most rewarding charity work is done anonymously. I should just not say anything. Things are gonna get worse before they get better. For all of us.

Aaaaahhhhhh!

What the fuck is with this fucking Paul McCartney Christmas song? Since when did that crap become a standard? If anyone covers that thing, doubling the number or chances I have of being assaulted by a song that sounds like it was written by a kitten batting at a Casio, I'm gonna wipe out his whole family.

Staring.

I'm sorry that I'm going to miss yet another party, and with it, a chance to see you. I'm sorry I may have said or written something that should have just been between us. I'm sorry it seems like I don't want to come by when I say I will, and then don't. I'm sorry the pictures didn't come out as well as I would have liked. I'm sorry for how I let the day slip by. I'm sorry I pay attention to the wrong people. I'm sorry I may not be myself around you.

If you're a ninja, how come I always know where you are?

It was really funny when the final eight people at the party decided to make it a dance party at 3am. And then when our hostess decided to switch to playing vinyl on the stereo in her room, but no one could dance in her room because there wasn't space and it was full of cats and the dancing would make the record skip. So the dancers danced in the living room, but the music wasn't that loud in there, and it was like they were dancing to a party next door that they could hear through the wall. So that guy went into the bedroom to dance, and he yelled, "look at all the cats!" and he said he was dancing with the cats, but really the cats were just lying on the bed staring at him in disbelief in only the ways cats can. Then the shopping. And the fishing.
Thanks for inviting me. Glad I stopped by.

December 10th.

Both Otis Redding, and Sam Cooke died on December 10th, a few years apart.

Where's the snow?

I really don't have much to say these days. I now know the place I work will shut down some time in the middle of next year. Much longer than I expected, and I haven't figured out how I feel about it yet.

I also watched Sideways today, and I have to say that there was pretty much nothing i liked about it. Okay, Virginia Madsen is likable.

White Sands.