I miss them. My family.

I don’t even know who they are, but I miss them.

Especially my soul-sister.

I don’t think it’s a zero-gain though. Even the pain of longing can be a profit.

We are scattered, now, the owners of this blog.  Some remain in California, another has found a temporary landing spot in her journey to another continent.

We are scattered in our minds, trying to find where we belong.  For some of us, this has been easy.  Some of us are still looking.

A lot happens and nothing happens at the same time.  As much as we change, the world changes with us, achieving net-zero gain.

I’ve been getting to take pictures of pretty girls…

This pleases me.

Internet at home has been figured out in the housemates’ meeting we had this evening. I’m sitting at the dining room table in companionable silence with my landlord and housemate, each of us at our respective laptops. Occasionally we speak, to comment on the windchimes, the music, our respective lives. I find that I am content here and now. This will change soon.

When I’m upset recently, I have a little shoulder angel (if you can call the creature that sits on my shoulder who looks like François-Marie Arouet and a little like Albert Camus, perhaps with a bit of Friedrich Nietzsche around the eyes, an angel of any sort) who points out the ludicrous. Its lessons aren’t gentle; they are given with a small mallet, soundly applied to the side of my head every time I start getting weepy, reminding me that the things I have to cry about are perhaps not as sad, or at least there are causes more worthy of tears, and that really, I should look at everything happening in my life with more detached amusement than I presently am.

I’ve been telling the shoulder angel to go hang, and wallowing in my sadness.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I should be wished a happy one.

We’re still here.

Just quiet.

One would think that having lost their job on Monday, one would take a week off before starting the job hunt. That way, one is fresh, able to concentrate on making a good impression.

That implies, for the moment, that one is smarter than the average bear.

Helpful interview hints from the Hip and Unemployed:

1. Eat something before going to that interview!
2. Do not allow bitterness from past job influence interview!
3. Do not work for interior designers. They will make one’s head explode.

The man tapping his fingers on the table nursing his cinnamon latte is talking to himself.

 He’s talking to his wife, who is long since passed.

 He’s talking to his kids, who haven’t bothered to call him in years.

He’s talking to God, and we, unable to comprehend the perfect beauty of the conversation, assume that he’s just fucking crazy.

Did you ever wonder who the guy in the window is talking to as he nods attentively, cinnamon latte in one hand, the other idly finger tapping on the table?

Maybe you should…

Is this thing on?

Hello? erm. Testing, testing….

Princess Little Sister said I should come down and introduce myself. So. This is me.