How does it happen, and at what precise moment do you fall...out of love.
Is it like falling asleep?
You lay in bed, close your eyes, pick at a few wandering thoughts then...
You're out.
Can you catch the exact moment you drift off? Not sure you can. Believe me, I've tried.
Is it Love or is it Lust...that's another one.
Someone once said that Lust is the equivalent of Hate. Hate because, in a moment of lust, the only need you want to satisfy is your own. While when in Love, you think of yourself last.
Makes sense.
I've been making some serious-crazy decisions as of late. The path is beginning to fork. The shelf re-organized. Since early this year my attention has been taken elsewhere. Into a world that few would choose to travel - it's much too dark for many to handle. So why am I headed there?
It's in my nature to help people. My first instinct is to Protect, it's always been that way. But this particular path...I need to go back to school for. Flit the summer away, then hit the books in the Fall. I hope to hunt those that prey on the weak. To look into the eyes of those that walk without a conscience. I'll need a lot of covering. To those that understand what kind of covering I'm speaking of - you know what to do.
But I won't and will never give up the page. The story. The dialogue. Passion lives there.
Lately, more and more I'm hearing people speak of Friendship. True friendship. How that as we age, the numbers sadly dwindle. Is that true? When you have nothing to offer that's bright and shiny, when all you have is what's in your heart, is it enough? My friend D is contemplating such things. Her birthday just passed. Time to re stock. I've known her forever. D has a good heart.
I'm a part of this group. We read scripts and collectively speak of them. I think we all like one another, we're accepting of differences, tolerant of pride, and laugh a heck of a lot. We scream a lot too. I bang the table if I especially like a script we've read. Django was brilliant.
I'm still waiting for the unicorn. Setting myself up for the impossible. Such fantasies don't exist. Do they...? One afternoon I was having cheesecake with my friend C. We shared how difficult it is to meet men in Toronto. That men in other parts of the world tend to have a larger set of low-hangers when it comes to approaching women. Perhaps men in Toronto just can't speak. That must be it. C is very tall and pretty.
I hope the week ends well. No, not well. Fantastic.
