fucking five o'clock morning

Another fucking five o'clock morning. I've been on a bad streak. It's not the cats' fault or anything. It's me. The new rule seems to be: when my body gets four hours of sleep, that shall be the limit and no more! At least not once I wake up for a bathroom room, or as in this case, from a coughing fit. The main problem with this new rule is that I can feel a deficit. It is not so bad that I am in zombie mode all day, but neither do I feel refreshed and fully alert. I feel more tired. More than usual.

And I dread opening up my e-mail messages this morning, because I got cornered into another Christian debate. I'm not sure if this is better or worse than not having any messages. I do know that it would be so nice if I could get some positive, friendly messages, but I am afraid that such messages are trickling to an absolute end in my life.

Sylvia

Sylvia has another date, sort of. This one is more tumultuous.
_ _ _

Now I'll never see him again, and maybe it's a good thing. He walked out of my life last night for once and for all. I know with sickening certainty that it's the end. There were just those two dates we had, and the time he came over with the boys, and tonight. Yet I liked him too much - way too much, and I ripped him out of my heart so it wouldn't get to hurt me more than it did. Oh, he's magnetic, he's charming; you could fall into his eyes. Let's face it: his sex appeal was unbearably strong. I wanted to know him - the thoughts, the ideas behind the handsome, confident, wise-cracking mask.

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another Christian debate

My blurting and blogging day has been interrupted again by another Christian debate, on what is the supernatural and whether math is materialistic. I'm still not sure how to think about these discussions. I'm inclined to appreciate the splash of excitement and something different, but it can still be tempting to want to remain free of the challenges and the stress, even though such quietude must be deadening. If I had a more normal life with freinds and lovers, I might like such debates more, but without that kind of social security, one can prefer to stay under this rock and avoid the bright light of the sun altogether.

weeds

It wasn't too cold this afternoon, and since it was a shower day, I went out and put in a good hour filling up a big trash bag with weeds. I put a dent into that lush growth on our front yard outside the fence, but it can seem like such a pointless task. Though, Pop appreciated it, encouraging me by telling me that it is a better way to take care of the weeds, so that they won't come back. It actually started raining again as I was finishing up. I really need to take the mower to those weeds. But it looks like it is going to be a miserable week.

Story Books

“It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass. Yet regardless of where they came from, I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them—with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself.”

-- Eudora Welty

I don't think I would have lasted this long without books. Of course, even the best book is no substitue for life and love, but good books can enable you to transcend the loneliness and disappointment, help you to enjoy a dream of life at least.