an excerpt

Sometimes an author writes something that is so exactly how you feel about a certain situation that you can't help but nod in agreement as you read the words, thrilled that somebody, anybody, even this random stranger understands exactly how you feel; thrilled that you're not insane and that someone, in the span of 2 sentences, completely understands where you are coming from.  In honor of this feeling, I give you the following excerpt from the Modern Love section of the New York Times:

"Everything about him turned my heart inside out.  Even now, 10 years since I last saw him, I can hear the thick sadness in his throat, and feel something that is no longer love but remains a kind of sweet sadness for all that was lost."

start-ups

Start-ups turn me on;

the risk, the creativity, the drive, the hunger.

It's sexy and i love being a part of anything sexy.

Start-ups turn me on.

symbolic teas and cable cords

people say cutting the cord early is the best way to go about not getting hurt but i've always been the lingering type; letting that cord steep deep and long till the attachment brews slowly to a strong and tasty flavor that lingers.

cut the cord after it sits, stews, and lingers? or cut it now and miss out on the taste all together?

tough one.

i've clearly lost all sense of reality.

won't delete

Often I delete posts b/c I feel bad about writing them.  I feel bad about the one below.  I won't delete it but i would like to note that I feel bad.

Perhaps it is not desperation, perhaps it is friendship and I can't see it b/c I've been too self-involved and angry at the world to notice that a friend I've known for over a decade needs me for no other reason than to laugh with me for a few hours and to catch up on life.

and that is not unattractive at all.

It's easy to break friendships...very hard to make them.

unattractive

desperation reeks like rotting eggs that stayed in a trash can too long and soaked thru onto the wooden floor, seeping into the cracks, causing the smell to never really go away.

in other words, desperation is unattractive.

alone

i feel like i have no one to talk to about my stuff.

it's not a fun feeling.

i feel like i'm not who i used to be and i'm drifting away.

"u ok?" he asks.

i say i'm fine - and inside i'm just the tiniest bit happy that at least somebody, albeit a friend i rarely see and often altogether avoid, bothered to ask.  

"at least somebody bothered to be bothered", I think, and then all of a sudden all my thoughts are spewing out in line after line of instant messenger for him to read and comment on.  

Peculiar how random friends I rarely see are sometimes the ones I feel closest too.