A muse hides in strange places…

Years ago… sometime in 2003 when I was a blogging writing fool. Just around the time that blogging started to be the norm, and doing it at work wasn’t a cardinal sin. I signed up for a project. I signed up for a few of the books, but I never saw a one of them. I kept my address updated. I kept my email updated. I did the best that I could in order to be available in case the book ever turned up.

It never did.

Randomly, I checked a handful of journals, and chose to look at the last one and saw where it went. A cover designer. Very cool.

It was a great idea, the premise, the thought. It was awesome, at first. All of these people, sharing bits of their lives with each other, total strangers, passing the journal onto the next person. Putting pictures, paint, words, anything… into the books. It was a massive art project, however, only a handful of the books ever got anywhere. Most of them went to one, possibly two people, and was never seen from again. Occasionally… and hopefully… a book turned up again, out of the blue. I lost touch with them all, and even my own books which I never saw, and likely wasn’t ever going to.

I love the embodiment idea! Please, good gawd, go back to your roots. Go back to what it was like when you had the time to think 4 thoughts ahead of your pen. When tangents were accidental rather than filler. When pouring your heart into the pages meant literally writing until carpal tunnel kicked in, and your hand cramped up to look like someone glued your fingers to the pen.

I secretly still want one of those journals.

There was a day, when I spent hours working on layouts for my website. There was a point when I changed everything, so that my entire life was nearly accessible through some online medium. I remember loving the time and the immense pride I felt when I finished. When all bits and pieces were tweaked out and worked through… and my world online was good.

Then the ease of everything else came along. Then all the comment spam, and trying to keep track. Then people reading when it was really never any of their business. Then people just plain being retarded over online things. I found a new home on the net. I started all over again. I didn’t tell people where I could be found, because the old sites still existed. I never took them down. I never got rid of them. I let a ton of them lapse, but now I have different homes. And I have LJ to be social if need be.

Through 1000J’s I found Briana, more like, where she’s semi-hiding. Her actual site is gone, which doesn’t surprise me, it happened to me too… it happened to me many times. BUT… that’s where I found THIS! It takes less than 15 minutes to read through…

but coding, and writing web pages… used to have a bit of brilliance… like that. I want to find that again.

I want to find that reason. I want to make pages like that again.

Maybe… maybe… I’ll find a reason.

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Unsure

I’m not entirely sure if someone who leaves flowers on your door, knocks lightly, and runs off before you can see who it is might be deemed a semi-stalker. It’s the second time that flowers have been left on my door. The first time I assumed it was the kids hanging out at my neighbors place, but I’m starting to think otherwise.

I have yet to figure out who it could possibly be. The flowers were some roses, picked from someone’s bushes. The sentiment is cute, the flowers pretty, but at the same time, it’s a little creepy. I can’t figure out who it could possibly be. I can’t tell if it’s something I should be afraid of, because they actually know where I live… or if I should just be flattered and think it’s kind of cute.

I’m at a loss.

Then there’s the prideful boy. Not my boy, mind you. He is simply one of those boys that can’t be caught. He acted like an ass, didn’t apologize for punching me like I was one of the guys, and when I got upset and pissed off, he’s taking it out on me even though I’ve been at least civil towards him. *shrug* The unrequited affection I feel for him will eventually pass… it has to. It can’t go on like this forever.

I can’t figure out whether I desire him and his attention because he’s one of those guys I can’t have, or if I do truly like him. I know I like him, because I’ve had the chance to get to know him a little bit here and there. I just know that he’s not always that person, the ridiculously intelligent one I’ve had the chance to get to know. I don’t like the person that he acts like he is when he’s around everyone else. I don’t like how he’s always performing and on stage. He keeps the walls up, and every day he maintains their structure so as to keep everyone out.

I could try, to penetrate the walls, but inevitably, that’s not something I want to try to do. Not to someone who wouldn’t want me to. Only time will tell. Though the sooner I realize that no amount of effort will make things suddenly different, the better off I will be.

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I'm amazed

There are those boys, that are just cute to look at but really there’s nothing much inside worth being around, so they’re only good from afar.

Then there are those boys, who are beyond intelligent, but you wouldn’t want to admit that you were around them, or knew them, when your friends came around.

Then… out of the blue… there’s that guy, who is both of them combined. Only, he’s the cute you wouldn’t mind bragging to your friends about, but the intelligent that you need in order to survive.

What happens… when you find that guy… but said guy doesn’t really want anything to do with you? What happens… when you want that guy… and he treats you like just enough shit that you don’t want to be bothered? What happens… when said guy punches you in your ass (yes literally punches you in the butt cheek) and you refuse to talk to him, but at the bar he decides that in order to torture you he’s going to hang out with you and your friends, and just be there, but not actually talk to you?

At some point, I will let go of the childish crush I have for this boy. But that day has yet to come, no matter how much I pretend in spite of everything. I want nothing more than to walk up to him and give him a hug before I leave. I want nothing more than to walk up to him, plant a big one on his lips before walking out of the bar like I own the place. I want nothing more than to call him my own… when really, I know he’s the kind that won’t ever be tamed… at least not by the likes of me.

One of these days, I’ll learn my lesson. Tonight just happens to not be that night. Tonight, I sing karaoke at the top of my lungs. Tonight… I sleep alone… again.

Surprise surprise.

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It's pretty

So I bought a new domain. I wanted to keep this one from the public eye. There’s this tendency for me to tell everyone that I got it. To run out there and inform all the people who’ve been reading my writings, and share this little space on the web. Why? Because it’s always what I’ve done in the past.

However, this time, this place is for me. If people stumble across it, cool. If they don’t, then I’m not going to be overly sad about it. This place is for me.

If you find it, you random person out there on the net somewhere, don’t be offended if there’s something passworded and I don’t feel like sharing. It’s my place, thank you very much. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I can’t force you to leave.

We’ll see if the inspiration to write suddenly finds itself at home again, in my finger tips and somewhere in my mind. I’ve been gone from the craft for far too long. I’ve been known on the net for far too long as “such and such nickname” and now… it’s not so much a recreation, but more like a fresh start.

I’d like to see where things go from here.

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