i dreamt i saw you walking
up a hillside in the snow
casting shadows on the winter sky
as you stood there counting crows
one for sorrow, two for joy,
three for girls, and four for boys,
five for silver, six for gold, and
seven for a secret never to be told

there's a bird that nests inside you
sleeping underneath your skin
when you open up your wings to speak
i wish you'd let me in

from "a murder of one" ~ counting crows
"Mackin' on a cat's ass"

if anyone can tell me where that quote comes from i'll lick them or send a CD mix that i come up with randomly after reading their diary. anyone? just sign the comments at the bottom of this entry and the only rule is that you can't use Google or a search engine of any kind! agonize over it and ask friends! it'll be fun - it's really just a test to see if we are already so dependant on internet that we can't think for ourselves anymore . . .

gak! today was honestly a good day and i laughed and joked and smiled and even won a few but it all felt hollow.

how long does this last? when will i be able to really laugh and feel elated without it burning in my soul like sunlight to the undead? i have a good time, i have fun! but it's like eating restaurant Tortilla soup - it's great until you taste mine and then it just never seems quite right, never tastes that good, always makes you hunger for that which you miss.

i guess i found what it was i have always been looking for and now that it's gone i feel the missing piece that never really bothered me until i was whole. it doesn't hurt so much anymore, but it's very distracting and never quite leaves my peripheral vision.

i am waiting for Cyndi to get back to me about that job - there was a management change over there and it was put on a temp hold until the dust settles (this shouldn't take more than a month in theory, but i'm not completely dumb - i'm not holding my breath. i'm just thinking breathless thoughts on occasion.)

i have been taking a few days very easy so there's not a lot to report other than as much as i grudgingly love my family, they know fuck-all about me. well, Dad's pretty cool, but he's just a payer of attention so he catches a lot on the fly. i guess i should be thankful that they let me cook dinner sometimes. i miss having a big kitchen to work with. the feel of an islanded kitchen is wonderful - the symmetry and placement, the openness and usefulness, the wonderful flow . . . the efficiency!!!! i really ought to cook more often.

it's weird but i don't see cooking as a gender influenced thing - i love to cook and bake and prepare and experiment with food and i'm lucky that most of what i make is awesome or at least edibly tasty and satisfying. some people can't do that. i have a friend that can burn water. Mom did once, too - and that pan it was in, to boot! do you know how hard it is to BURN Faberware pans? they come with a life-time guarantee! Dad is great in the kitchen but he's ever better outside and can't be beat when he's camping. i guess you can calling him the Rough Gourmet! (Now why does that not sound quite right?)

some people have "it" some don't. Dad and i do, Brat fakes it, Mom is a savant when it comes to a few moves and Toaster Boy is suspicious of us all. Rachel is a Goddess and does it all so well but she cheated by going to school for it - me, i have natural talent! sheesh! that sounds totally incestual and dirty!

anyways, i'm off like a dirty shirt!


3 people knew it all along

confessed on Tuesday, Aug. 26, 2003