5E: It's Just Easier [This Way]

I feel great.

I think it's interesting that the weather should resume being gorgeous as soon as the funeral is over with. It's like, man, time to go back and get on with life, you know? So either I am spiritually in tune with the ecosystem and have the mystical ability to manifest the weather as my emotions, or it's just a meteorological coincidence of moderate-to-small proportion.

Either way, it was a terrific day and I felt positive from the moment I stepped outside the door. That in and of itself was strange because it was 8:00 and I got up extra early so that I could hit the bookstore and buy my book for the class I had at 9. Fortune smiled upon me as I not only found it (I'm often lost beyond comprehension in that bookstore,) but as it was very early in the morning, I got out in good time (no lines, I sacrificed sleep for convenience,) get a Tim's coffee, go back and get my bag which I'd left at the bookstore, make it to the G-Wing, buy a croissant (no early class should be had without one,) and read the first chapter. Not that I really needed to read it, since all she did was read and anecdotalize. The nice thing about Mythology is that I was sitting next to this lovely artist girl and when I began to get bored by the lecture, I just watched her draw. She was working on this picture of two female figures, one some kinda mermaid, the other a lady with wings. She was quite talented.

Mike Walsh sounds like Alan Rickman doing a southern accent during that episode of King of the Hill he was in (Peggy joins a renaissance fair, stirs shit up.) His class I find it quite difficult to pay attention to, but I'm driven to succeed in it because there's thus far little homework and I can deal with it. P8. I just need to harness my own lack of attention-paying skills.

I think I may be developing some sort of post-pubescent Alzheimer's. I'm not catching things that are said to me, forgetting conversations, and just generally out of it. Or maybe I'm jut lazy. That seems much more likely.

I had one of those dreams recently, the kind where you are able to recognize the fact that you are dreaming and are helpless. Someone was there, I'm not going to say whom because you've never met her anyway. Let's just call her Cowgirl. Cowgirl showed up, after my not having seen her in a very long time. And my seeing her is what immediately caused me to realize that this was not actually happening, because in the dream I was happy to see Cowgirl, when in reality I would be quite miserable. It was quite jarring.

A few days ago I was in the E-Zine meeting and the editor, Amanda Judd, was taking photos of the "behind the scenes," and she remarked, "Scott looks like he's going to kill someone if they take his picture." Hah. you know, I never get tired of that one. What is it about me that invokes images of a serial killer? My introverted shyness? My eternally deadpan expression? May I point out that Dahmer was generally outgoing and well-liked by his neighbours, and that Berkowitz was a loonie? I may fall somewhere in the middle, but I don't think anybody's going to confuse me with Gary Ridgeway.

Ironically, Guns N' Roses' "I used to love her" just came on. That made me laugh (on the inside.)

"There's two things. No, wait, never mind. There's not. I don't know why I said there were two things. There's nothing."

As I said, I'm in a rare sunshiny mood today.

When I was a lad, about 6 or 7, I was upset because I had lost one of my favourite toys. I went home to where my dad was sitting and reading. I sat down next to him and began to cry. I'd tried to hold it as long as possible but it wouldn't be held back any longer. He picked me up and set me down on his knee, and asked, "what's the matter, son?" And I told him what had happened, adding "today's the worst day ever." And he said, "Son, I'm sorry that you've lost your toy. I know it's hard, but I want you to know that today is only one day. That tomorrow it will be gone, and that yesterday can't hurt you. And that's all today is, is just one single day." And I smiled, not fully realizing at the time waht that meant, but knowing that somehow, maybe, I could go to sleep, and move on, and leave today behind. And it never fails, that whenever one day hurts too much, the next is right after it.

Now, having told you that story, I feel obligated to let you know that it is a complete and utter work of fiction. I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but I think it's very nice. I just don't want to leave you all believing that it ever actually happened in that exact way, because I've gotten people to believe more outlandish things. I can't think of a great example right now, but suffice it to say always be suspect of the wild tales I'll tell at a party.

That said, I hope you all have a nice tomorrow. Keep on rockin'
Scotto