To steal a dooce-ism,

Thinking

• my Voter Identification Card came in the mail today - I'm a DEM in JUD CRT 243, REP 081, SEN 06, BESE 01, PSC 01, APP CRT 51, SUP CRT 01, CONG 01, PJ/PC 05, SB 04, and JP 05. I'm especially excited about making it into the PJ/PC 05.
  


• more taxes were taken out of my first paycheck than I made in the entire previous year working for the 'Nique. Contrary to the odds with your local Fulton-county gambling ring, I will not change parties now that I'm part of the fiscally-shafted money-making American public. I relish my opportunity to contribute to wasteful, beaurocracy-laden government programs that will siphon my tax dollars to Billy Graham-loving organizations that will use my funds to encourage abstinence and blow up abortion clinics. Or welfare, maybe. If only I could earmark my tax contribution, "To be directed towards education, food programs, AND NOT YOUR PORKY ROADS AND POCKETS."
  


• I bought Mr. Bubble bubble bath at CVS today. In the pink bottle. Have I mentioned my Jacuzzi bathtub that's big enough to comfortably host a 25-m freestyle race?


• AllState Insurance is the single biggest contributer to my (snail) mail count. Thank you, my local AllState Agent, for keeping me coming back to the Post Office for more excitement every three days. Mary Evans is pulling a close second, but so as not to break federal mail theft laws, I'm required to put her mail back in the slot that says, "RIGHT BOX NUMBER BUT NOT MY MAIL"


• Happy Birthday, Biffy-Biffsters-Biffmeister! Give her some birthday lovin' in the comments of her bloggy!


• Thank you, T-mobile, for welcoming me into your cell phone fold and delivering my reprieve from the horrible, horrible Hell called 'Sprint'. My number is the same, but my phone is much cooler - I actually have this crazy feature called 'text messaging.' You've heard of it? Really? Because over at Sprint they haven't realized it isn't 1985 anymore.

In other news, I'm sorry I haven't been updating as regularly anymore - I've semi-gone back to jotting notes down while driving (too fast) down the interstate when a thought just hits me. Or in the back few pages of my notebook during interminably long meetings (We upped the choke pressure in the tree ... maybe I'm trying too hard to play the roles I played for my friends at home, struggling to fit into new situations with the same script, not realizing that the cast has changed around me; maybe that's the point of different friendships, to force you to learn and develop different parts of yourself, to help you continually evolve through a lifetime ... so the LDHI injected in the subsea tie-back is better than methanol.)

I went to dinner with a friend from Tech who was in town last week, and it was refreshingly relaxing. Our 3 hours of conversation was, in my mind, me earnestly - desperately - seeking a deeper conversation that would make me ponder and question and FEEL. (Emeril has his onions, celery and bell peppers; I have thought, questions, and an overwhelmed heart) Such a talk it was, and I went to bed with the wonderful feeling that someone else had contributed in a meaningful way to my thoughts and thought process, and I might have done the same for someone else.

The evening also made me think again how much I want to go on a date - maybe it was the comfort of dinner and coffee, or the not knowing where we were going next and not needing to, or the security of being next to someone who cared - with someone nice. On second thought, I don't want a date. I just want to have a substantial conversation with someone in person on a regular basis. A date would require dressing nicely and worrying about formalities.

Ah, and a topic I'd love to vent on -- boys -- and yet I will hold my tongue (fingers?) because the internet has gotten me in trouble before. I will say, though, that it's (kind of) cute to see the number of guys I've met in the past two weeks who have broken up with their girlfriends in the past year, are still determined that they'll be back with them someday, and yet plan to live the crazy life in the meantime. Then I think, hmm, does that guy's ex-girlfriend think what I think when I think of my situation?

I'm in one of those moods where I feel like I have so much more to get out but I don't know where to start. I miss Danny and Hanson and Kristy. A lot. In that missing sort of way that makes your heart kind of crinkle up inside and hurt in a bittersweet sort of way. I want to scream "NO I DON'T HAVE A 2ND FORM OF ID" and Collective Soul and John Mayer and "PROPAGULE" and "KYLOTHEAN" (sp, H?) and "remember that time when we tried to..." and "...when Hanson peed on the side of the road while taking that girl home?" and "...when Danny first Hatched?" Remember when we sang at the top of our lungs, all three of us collectively,

"Don't you see, don't you see,
that the charade is over?
And all the 'Best Deceptions' and 'Clever Cover Story' awards go to you.
So kiss me hard
'cause this will be the last time that I let you.
You will be back someday
and this awkward kiss that screams of other people's lips will be of service
to keeping you away."

each of us thinking of some different personal experience and yet communing in the similarity of it all.

I don't think my heart's ever been as full as it was then, the three of us in one concrete, contained space for a few fleeting moments in our lives, knowing that things were all about to change but it didn't matter because life was in that moment and in that moment was life.

I keep trying to listen to my heart. And think about what IA Jonny would say.

Goodnight, big world.