I Fear, Too Early: For My Mind Misgives

Well, I'm basically one week into April. This is going to be a long, dry month.

Pshh..... I just wrote three or four paragraphs about love and then highlighted them and replaced them with this sentence. I should not try to write seriously when I'm this tired. I'll need to remember that when I'm at Purdue ;-)

Suffice to say I'm beginning to notice the effects of the phenomenon of exponential growth within my person as the years progress. At the same time, I'm becoming increasingly aware of the stablizing effect age has on my personality. Perhaps the "refining" effect would be a more appropriate nomenclature.

Of course, at the same time this is developing within me, it's manifesting itself in all the beautiful women around me.

I'm thankful I didn't get married when I was eighteen years old. It works for some people. It's not for me, though I always thought it was.

I've lived. I've loved. I've learned. I don't believe in regret. Life is, after all, yours to miss.

But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

My Blood, Shed for You

The Lion said to her, “Are you not thirsty?”

“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.

“Then drink,” said the lion.

“May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do,” said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And, as Jill gazed at its smooth motionless bulk, she realized she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic. “Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.

“I make no promises,” said the lion.

Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer. “Do you eat girls?” she said.

“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry, it just said it.

“I dare not come and drink,” said Jill.

“Then you will die of thirst,” said the lion.

“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”

There is no other stream," said the lion.

Spring Forward, Fall Back

Hey! What if I updated this thing? Wouldn't that be weird?

Problem is I get tongue-tied every time I try to say what I want to say...

The details of my vacation have been withheld at the request of the CIA. They are now need-to-know classified pending further investigation.

Not much in the way of an update so far, I suppose. I'm taking a voluntary sabbatical from alcohol for the month of April. Really, I started about a week ago. So far, so good, though there was a hearty bout between the little guys chilling on my right and left shoulders earlier this evening in front of the fridge.

In entertainment, lately I'm bouncing back and forth between C.S. Lewis and my new TV adventure, Gilmore Girls. If you have any comments about the implications of my enjoyment of the show, I invite you to direct them to my bulging bicep, who will more than likely direct his secretary, my right fist, to take a message on your face. ;-) No, seriously though. Lauren Graham and Alexis Biedel are both hott as hell. (Author's note: Those of you who know me best should know that I had to look up both of those names. I only know them as Lorelai and Rory Gilmore. I'm not good with actors' and actresses' names, social lives, or fashion faux pas. Lorelai, by the way, is a beautiful name.) The dialogue on the show is written by somebody with a measurable IQ (that's an anomaly in Hollywood) Plus, there's a healthy level of sexual mother-daughter innuendo which keeps me coming back for more. Honestly, it's a good show. I had no idea what it was until recently, even though it has apparently been on the air since 2000. I've almost burned through season one now. Between that and C.S. Lewis's gripping literature, I find myself with just enough free time to work out, run, clean, and cook myself ridiculously healthy meals in between work and sleep. All in all, I'm content. Now let's go to Ollie with the Black-U-Weather Forecast. Ollie?

"It's gon' rain!"

Thanks, Ollie. Tune in next time when we uncover the truth about Roald Dahl. Great British novelist or sick, twisted megafruitophile?



Oh, one more thing. This is serious.

I love you. I miss you. You were more to me than you'll ever know.



Rest in peace. :'(