It's hard to tell from this crappy blurry photo, but that's my cat Buddy chillaxing again. It's even harder to tell that, once again, he's lying atop a pair of my blue jeans.

I ran across this old entry, from March of 2006. It amazes me how little has changed over the years.

The nice thing about this is that it's giving me something to think about, but the bad thing about this is that it's giving me something to think about.

Too many things, actually.

My mind is aswarm with thoughts, my heart is teeming with feelings, all with their own agendas. Some will merge for a brief time, join forces in fierce battle against their enemies, swear allegiance to false alliances, but all the while only truly working toward their own vision of an idealized conclusion.

Others are adversaries from the start. Like dogs and cats, like Arabs and Jews, they are born into this war which began long ago and which will continue long after these individual skirmishes and battles and betrayals have become nothing more than forgotten footnotes in a history book.

And the individual combatants, so full of resolve and so possessed of purpose, they will become nothing more than patches of ground where the flowers, nourished by the blood-soaked earth, grow vibrant and strong.

And me?

Well, I'm Mars, The God of War.

This is a snippet of an email I sent RockGirl just now. I don't know wjhy I'm posting this here. Probably because I want to post something but I don't feel like writing anything.

...

So now guess the scenario that my brain has conjured up.

You don't even have to guess. You know me well enough.

And I really was thinking about going to Wick's. Even though it's gay, they have good pizza. I've been craving about 10 things all day, and I haven't made up my mind, and I haven't eaten anything at all. I'll probably starve to death before I decide what I want to eat.

The thing is, I think, that if I go to Wick's then I'll have a beer with my pizza. And if I have a beer with my pizza then I won't feel like going to Jack's. And I kinda think I might want to maybe go to Jack's tonight. I could just go to stupid Bearno's, but I really don't feel like getting food there again.

I went to Rich O's for a bit last night, after HatGirl and I parted company. I wasn't there very long. Just long enough for one beer, but it was long enough, I suppose.

Long enough to get me back into my old habits of flinching every time I'd hear a female voice, and of never ever turning my back on the door.

I'd been planning to just go to the Sportstime side of things, but a glance into the window had revealed that Sportstime was packed. Rich O's wasn't much better, but I was able to sit in the throne while I wondered (a) how stupid I was for being at Rich O's, and (b) who all those people were.

I didn't recognize a single person in that crowd. It was like I'd entered the wrong bar.

Anyway, I had myself a Marzen (15943) and then I left a little before 9:00.

Speaking of dreams, I just had a dream in which I spent a huge portion of time vacuuming. I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Before that is the really weird part, though. My mom and I got into an argument, and she said something like, "Well your family would just buy you a new mansion!"

And I said, "Wait, aren't you my mom? Isn't this my family?"

"That's what we've wanted you to think," she replied.

Weird.

And so, now I'm back. Where I belong.

Where breaths are lies, because I don't want to take them.

Where heartbeats do nothing more than mark wasted time.

Where moods and thoughts and musings are nothing more than faint textures fumblingly etched onto a terrible canvas.

Where I hold my tongue, as much as I can, because I cannot scream and because screaming is all that would be worthy. Where it doesn't make sense. Where there's no explanation. Where I can't be trusted.

Where it's all just too weird.

Where I pretend, all the time, that I'm moving toward something or away from something, but where I'm really just standing still. Rooted in this here and this now and this what and this why. Because there's nowhere else to go, and because there's nowhere else I want to be.

Where I belong.

Where I miss her.

I've been sleeping a lot lately. At least twelve hours every day. I've been dreaming a lot.

Goodnight, cruel world.

I haven't done one of these in a while. Probably because it's a hassle.

And, upon watching the video, I saw that I'd said MisunderstoodGirl when I meant to say MixedSignalGirl. Not that I don't also miss MisunderstoodGirl, it's just that she's not one of the first people who came to mind.

As I write this, they're still looking for the kid.

I just wanted to say how freaking weird it was for me to be watching the thing on my TV. The footage of the landing that I saw showed a fairly gentle landing. But then people rushed the balloon thingy and started whacking it with shovels and stabbing it with pitchforks.

Because that's what you're always supposed to do when you think there might be a little boy inside. Either those things or the complete opposite. I forget which.

I was surprised that they didn't whip out their firearms and shoot it full of holes.