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Saturday, Mar. 06, 2004 / 1:28 p.m. ~On the Unlikelihood of Mutual Attraction~ The storms never came, and I feel cheated. The sun shines, the air has cooled, we expect a high near 70. A lone young boy plays basketball using the portable net they have in the parking lot. Today he has placed it next to my car. I worried briefly when I first saw it, but then I heard his bouncing of the ball as the only activity and felt sad that no one joins him. I hear him still. Bouncing. Windows open, air flowing, this isn't bad at all. I have plans, written things, on paper it all looks doable, but I have to come up with a viable order. Some are things I really do not want to do, or things that, chores that involve long drives, so I try to combine, try to imagine doing one first, then another after, trying to picture it in my head. It's just a day, but when I only get two of these, per week, it's imperative to squeeze the most in, or out. Last two weekends were spent in the same clothes, sitting here, or in front of the TV, not accomplishing anything more than a load of laundry or two, washing some dishes, cooking and eating far too much food. We talked on the computer last night (rapid surprise subject change), for the first time via instant messaging, and he confessed desires, feelings, he had not previously. It was disarming at best. Startling, a bit off putting, surprising, what other adjective would be good here? I've read that in love situations, not that that's what this is, but in love, one person always feels more than the other. There is such thing as mutual love, but one always feels just a bit more, and when it's over, as it generally is at some point, as the everlasting love situation is rare, but it does happen, it grows, mutates, evolves, one person is hurt more than the other. This is natural. I have no desire to hurt anyone, but I have been in this position before, and I don't much care for it. Being the object of someone else's desire, possibly in the midst of wanting yet another, or dreaming of one more who's not even entered the picture up to this point. I couldn't return it, say the appropriate "Me too"s. Or, "Yes, I feel the same", because I don't feel anything. It's awkward now, and now I'm not in any rush, I'm willing to drag it all out just to be sure. I need to feel the sun on my face, my body, I need fresh air, I need to drive with the windows open. I have so many things to do. Why does the department of motor vehicles insist upon making birthdays deadlines for payments and emissions and such? Why must I not enjoy my birthday because I have to worry about my car passing the test this time, and getting it all done on time, and wondering if I can send it all in the mail or if I'll be at the actual counter on the big day? I never enjoy my birthday because there is so much worry attached. My car is so old, I never know how much longer it will pass, or if I'll have to contract expensive mechanical procedures to make it so. Must get out and in this day. Cost of the War in Iraq
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