Tuesday, June 6

I think I have melted my socks.

I'm sure there's a reason I feel that I must stay awake nights to write something. You see, the feeling of having written something is satisfying--a bit like having a rounded meal, or exercising just the right amount, or waking up from a good nap; except that this means I miss my nap, don't exercise, and forget to eat.

The house is all locked up for the night; we have big brown metal shutters on the windows, here, and the door is a bit tricky to handle, sometimes--it has to fit just so in its place. "Just so" seems to fit a lot of things in this house; the dishwasher will work only if you poke it in the right places, the gate in the yard will only work if you jiggle it at the right angle, the showers will only work if you keep the shower head tilted the right direction and don't use any other devices in the house that might conceive of using hot water.

My dragon has decided that it is past my bedtime, and so she has placed herself on my lap in a manner that would have discouraged an amateur from continuing any sort of activity that did not involve smoothing said dragon (who, having felt intuitively that I spoke about her to someone else, has commenced purring). But I know something she doesn't know: I can type one-handed.

So yeah, we lit a fire because it was so cold today. I put another log on tonight and stuck my feet in front of it and began to type away merrily until I realized that my, how warm were my toes and OH MY, how plastic are my socks.

Millions of peaches. Peaches for me. Millions of peaches. Peaches for my dessert. Yum yum yum.

Monday, June 5

Remind me that this journey is my own.

You'd think I wouldn't need to be reminded of our isolation--our individual prisons of flesh, bones, marrow, and skin. I constantly want to be alone. I perpetually quest for a better understanding of my self. I am blockaded with my individuality, for what feels like a lot of the time.

You'd think I wouldn't need reminding, wouldn't you? But I find myself depending on what I can do for other people, depending on what other people think I do . . . in the end, it is me He looks at, and judges, isn't it? Not my actions or what other people think. I get so heart-weary, sometimes . . .

Sunday, June 4

A rant about me and dating.

So my friend was giving me a ride the other day and in the course of our confabulation she remarks that with my romantic sensibilities, I "would just shut the guy down if he was, like; 'Rika, you are so beautiful'".

Does that seem true to you? Some of you will say "OH yeah, that is TotAlLy something you would do" because you can see me sitting with some slightly random acquaintance and not enjoying it a whit.

That's true, I wouldn't enjoy sitting with a poor sucker for an hour over dinner, trying to make conversation about the weather and skiing and what it is like to live in Italy. He wouldn't like it either, if he's an intelligent bloke.

Have I mentioned that I wouldn't date a guy I didn't know and like? Have I mentioned that I wouldn't date anybody I thought didn't know me? Doesn't that seem normal to anybody else? Doesn't everybody tell me I'm hard to get to know? Why does it surprise people that scarce are the men I find myself attracted to!?

It is true that some people have no clue how to go about being attractive and available to me, though. Ugh! (Alas that there are men who read "self-help" and can be found voluntarily perusing the "inspirational" aisle in bookstores. So degrading.) Unfortunately, the few I have met are entirely unavailable; they seem to all be married, sworn to celibacy, dead, fiction, or unchristian (or *nearly* any combination of the above).

Anyway, if I find a single man of large fortune and in want of a wife with whom I can share interests and be friends with--a Christian--then I shall put a yellow sticky note on him labeling him as such so that everyone will know and you can call Ripley's and get his autograph before he dies or becomes a priest or gets married to somebody else, or reveals that he is a Wiccan anarchist with Taoist democratic leanings. Ew.

P.S. If it was a guy I respected enough as a friend, who knew me, then I could accept the compliment without fear of reprisal, and deliver my thanks. I have been known to do so. However, it seems that people only see me as going out with friends of friends or lonely single guys they know. I wouldn't go out with somebody as a pity-date; that's insulting to both parties.