Still here?
My, but you're persistent. Or obsessed.
S'okay, I've come to love my stalkers. ;)
My but how swift life becomes when loving outside my head. Another paradigm has shifted and my truths are realigning with my realities again.
I'm going skydiving in a couple of weekends. I'm thrilled, and the momentary pang of "12,500 feet? Wow, that's HIGH" didn't last long.
I'm learning to drive standard. Dammit. Anyone else can do it, and I like the noise.
I'm not going to talk about the pish intricacies of buying a car because I refuse to put that much emphasis on it.
I'm taking motorcycle lessons.
I have redioactive coloured hair. Tangerine, it said on the tube...
Tubes rock.
I'm still haplessly in love with people and things and ideas that are tough to chew. I like it that way, despite the melancholic spin the subtle grinding of the earth seems to take on in drained and pallid evenings.
There is no melancholy, really, not here. Not moroseness, but poetry. Dance, not the yearning in the corner, of the years when I was too afraid to grasp the very wind currents and stream with them.
I have stopped wearing those infernal heeled boots.
I really don't care if you liked them or not. These converse, while not the bad-ass docs that half the known world is accustomed to seeing me in, and definitely not the foot-numbing corporate sex-bitch boots the americans have seen me in, make me feel like I'm dancing when I put my feet up on my desk and drown in Netscape's latest useless doc on writing plug-ins.
Funny, I never thought shoes merited much thought. Still don't - but that's cuz I've already learned something from 'em, and have worlds to move on to.
Good morning, dear digitized world, I have no prettiness to dazzle your default organs with, but I've learned how to use my tongue-ring with the skill of, well, a monstre. ;)