It's Over

I'm sorry, Utah, I'm not really good at this sort of thing. I guess the best way to do this is to just come out and say it. I'm dumping you. I'm done. I just can't do this anymore. I need to see other states. Hell, maybe I need to see other countries. I don't know. It's just been me and you for so long. 28 years long. There were those two years I spent with Korea, and the almost two with Arizona, but it's really hard to count that time. I took a lot of you with me to those places. A big mistake. I should have just been in those places. Experienced them, at least tried to absorb more of what they had to offer. But all that is beside the point. This is over.

Why? Really, you want to get into this? Okay, fine. You aren't my home. Yes, yes, I was born and raised here, but you just aren't home anymore. Honestly, I use to feel like you could always be home. That for the longest time I would step off planes, out of cars into some town in you and sigh the word, "home". Unfortunately, that's no longer the case. I need to find home. I need to walk back streets, eat at restaurants, visit shops and wait for that place to speak to my soul. I look back on it, and you've never done that. You've never spoke to my soul. I think, in most cases, I've been settling with you.

Of course there were good times. How could there not be. However, you've also been the home of my worst moments. And yes, all relationships have that, the ups and downs. But should the downs really outweigh the ups? Instead of speaking to my soul, is it right that you have been crushing it?

Okay, crushing is a bit harsh, but it feels...so stifling. You've narrowed my vision, lowered my expectations. Being with you, I feel worse about myself, I feel alone...I'm afraid I'm not as good of a Joe as I can be with you. While I'm here, I feel like I have to be someone different, I have to wear masks, pretend, fit into some other persons idea of Joe. I want to be the real me 24/7. And I just can't do that here.

I'm sorry, this really shouldn't be unexpected though. Sometimes distance forms, things get tainted, go wrong. This is just one of those things.

I'm a terrible Blogger

It's true, I'm not very good at this. Well, not exactly the writing it part. I would like to think I have some talent when it comes to the written word. What I'm bad at is the whole keeping up to date on it. I do hope to rectify this situation. Don't worry, there won't be a sudden upswing in me talking about lunch or dinner, I will spare you all that, but I hope to get a few more of my brain droppings out there. Really, if for no other reason than to get them out of my head.

Anyway: Previously on Cedar City, 84720...
Summer was just getting underway for the gang and people were starting their groovy 16 books in 16 weeks project. Charles and Amy were getting ready to tie the knot, but Joe still didn't know who he was taking to the wedding. Meanwhile, the Einfeldt kids were getting cutter and smarter, but Mary wouldn't stop bragging about it. Joe was getting ready to make his move to Landon's house, but who else was living there?

By the way, that kind of sucks because I've never actually watched an episode of 90210, I was too busy watching Sliders and Loise & Clark at that phase of my life.

So, my 16 in 16 project. Thing I've learned about myself, I can not keep to a list of books to save my life. Now, I've always known that structured systems and me don't really get along (How was I a Mormon missionary again?) but this really put a light on it. I started off so well, Hit and finished Manhood for Amateurs, then kept moving right into Do Anything, and then, I just started to go all over the place. I'm much more of an organic reader, I pick up what looks interesting at the time, or what will help me with a very particular problem. So, there I was, two books down, and I had this urge for Roland Barth's Mythologies, so I read that. Then I felt like I was getting a bit stagnant with my play writing, so I started to read plays, a lot of plays. August Osage County, God of Carnage, Ruined, The Shape of Things, The Distance From Here. So that got me off my list. Then my preorders started to come in. Knowing that I would be making very little money in the summer, I made sure to preorder books that I knew I would want to get during these long summer days. So, in comes Y: The Last Man Deluxe Vol. 3, The Walking Dead Vol. 5, and of course Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour. The problem is, when a new book shows up in your mail box, you really want to read it. So, I did. Then the new Ellis book shows up, a theory book on female comic book characters. Then I have the urge to reread stuff...okay, I think you get the picture. So, here I am with two weeks left of my summer, and my book count is at 14. So, actually, I'm right on track, just not the list I had from the start. Congratulations me.

Now, I would like to write and talk about all these wonderful books I have read, but I should really save that for another time. Right now, I'm more in that melancholy mood you get when you can feel your summer coming to an end. It's an odd feeling, really. I have really enjoyed this summer, incredibly, but at the same time, I'm ready to get back to my classes and my students.

Because of the books and movies I grew up on, I feel like summers should be these months of discovery, where we really grow up and learn. I mean, that's what they did in that movie The Sandlot, and didn't the Goonies take place during their summer break? They found a damn pirate ship! The closest I've ever come to that during a summer was watching them find that ship like 20 times.

I still love that movie.

But, when summer does start to wind down, I have this compulsion to look back, try to take stock of what I've learn, or what I've discovered. And this summer, this summer has really been about me. Or, at least, learning to just be Joe alone, and really enjoying that. Understanding the things that make me truly happy, taking care of myself. And I think I've got a grasp of that. This is a very good thing. I've spent a lot of time sacrificing myself when I didn't really need to, putting everything else before me. I've also been able to get the the core of what I want out of this life. The only bad part of all this self discovery: it feels like I have miles to go to get where I need to be, and there is so little time left to do that. One step at a time, as the cliche goes.

So, yeah, really good summer. Though, I would have liked to have found One-eyed Willies treasure. Eh, maybe next summer.

The Saga Begins

Well, it being summer and all, that means I need to get going on my 16 books in 16 weeks project. The problem is, I can't really get started on my list with unfinished business. Around spring break this last year I had purchased a couple of books "The Year of the Flood" by Margaret Atwood, (which is on my summer reading list) and "Chronic City" by Jonathan Lethem. Well, I did a lot of flying during spring break and "Chronic City" was the book that accompanied me on all of those flights. However, when I got back, classes, grading and other things got in the way of me being able to finish the book. So, when summer reading time came around, I was trying to figure out what book to start with. There are a lot of amazing books on my list that I really want to get to. But the more I thought about where to start, I couldn't figure it out. And then I saw "Chronic City" sitting on my shelf, bookmark still in place, and I couldn't just leave it there. I needed to finish it, and that's what I did. So that may bring my book count up a bit, or make it a tighter squeeze to finish in the 16 weeks, but I'm very happy with my decision.

I'm a firm believer in the theory certain books find their way into our lives when we most need them. "Chronic City" is one of those books in my life. The basic story is of a child actor, Chase Insteadman, who is no longer acting but a fixture of New York City's collective identity. His fiance is the only American aboard the Russian space station, but is stuck up there because of a field of Chinese space mines. Now, as crazy and intriguing as that all sounds, it isn't the focus of this novel. The focus of the novel is Insteadman's new friend Perkus Tooth. While read this book, I had this great urge to live in Manhattan. I needed to be part of that world and community, to carve out my own little niche in the street names and restaurants. However, when I had finished the book, that urge had changed. Not because I now had a distaste for Manhattan, Lethem does a wonderful job of sharing his love of the city with the reader, but my new urge was to carve out a place in my own city.

Lethem has seasoned his book with clear and thinly veiled pop cultural references. It's not hard for the reader to know that Gnuppets are suppose to be Muppets or that Chthonic Youth is Sonic Youth, but that is part of the fun here. Not only is Lethem creating the world of Manhattan for his readers, he is showing how his characters have created their own worlds within Manhattan through pop culture and the people they associate with. In the end, I don't want Manhattan, I want Perkus Tooth's kitchen. This amazing world of books, music, and visiting friends. It is this wonderful little piece of a much larger picture. Escaped tigers, Chauldrons, Chinese space mines are all out there, but we've got our worlds to manage.


I will say this, finishing "Chronic City" has only made me more excited to get started on the rest of my books. Now I just need to decide what comes next. So, let's get this read-a-thon rolling.

A Productive Use of My Summer

Summer is an interesting time for people involved in academia. When I was growing up, I thought teachers had summer all to themselves. Now that I am a teacher, I see it a little differently. As an adjunct professor, I need to teach and find ways to make money throughout the summer. But that doesn't mean I don't have free time, and as the semester roles to an end I need to figure out how best to use that free time. Now, I could sit in front of my TV and play hour upon hour of Modern Warfare 2, but thanks to Todd and Rae I've got an awesome challenge to confront. 16 Books, 16 Weeks. That's right, a book a week. Now that may seem daunting, but it's a challenge I can handle. So, here's my list of summer reading.

1. "The Year of the Flood" (Margaret Atwood)
2. "The Supergirls" (Mike Madrid)
3. "Twilight of the Superheroes" (Deborah Eisenberg... See More
4. "I Will Fear No Evil" (Robert Heinlein)
5. "Vacation" (Deb Olin Unferth)
6. "2666" (Roberto Bolano)
7. "Ficciones" (Jorge Luis Borges)
8. "Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History" (Laurel Thatcher Ulrich)
9. "Do Anything" (Warren Ellis)
10. "Hand to Mouth" (Paul Auster)
11. "Manhood For Amateurs" (Michael Chabon)
12. "McSweeney's #34" (McSweeney's)
13. "Suttree" (Cormac McCarthy)
14. "The Writer's Notebook: Craft Essays from Tin House" (Tin House)
15. "Gentlemen of the Road" (Michael Chabon)
16. "Gun With Occasional Music" (Johnathan Lethem)

I'll be reading other books as well this summer. The next collected volumes of Y: The Last Man, The Walking Dead, Ex Machina, Fables, and Scott Pilgrim will be coming out this summer, but those being graphic novels, I'll probably rip through those in about 24 hours. But hey, if you are looking for a fun challenge this summer, I suggest you get on board. Find those 16 books you haven't been able to get to because of classes, work, or whatever. Get out in the sun, enjoy those books, and feel free to share your lists of 16.

"I was but the learner, but now I am the master."

Content Warning: The following blog post contains quite a number of Star Wars references. Yeah, that's right, I learn and apply life lessons from some of the more dorkish parts of pop culture.

One of the things that I have enjoyed so much about being a student, particularly of English, was the mentor ship that exists. As an undergrad, I had great mentors. Mentors that helped me with my writing, mentors that helped me with my literary analysis, mentors that helped me with life choices. And it was great. Eventually though I did need to move on. At NAU I found new people and new mentors that pushed me even farther. How weak and underdeveloped would my writing be if I hadn't had Jane Woodman there to push me. I liked having mentors, I miss having mentors.

Since I've been back in Cedar teaching, I'm not really in the learner mentor situation much anymore. Yes, there are people to get advice from, to seek out when I'm just really not sure, but it isn't quite the same. And to be honest, I don't think it will be the same until I'm in a PhD program somewhere.

There is a point in The Empire Strikes Back where Luke has to go to the aging Jedi master Yoda and be trained in the ways of the force. Yoda makes Luke do head stands, float rocks, try to lift X-Wing ships out of the swamp, and even carry Yoda around on his back as he runs through the jungle. However, there comes a certain point when Yoda and Luke come upon a tree and Yoda tells Luke that he must face the dangers and tests there on his own. I think I've reached that point. That point where I need to step out and be...well, Joe.

I need to make my own mistakes, create my own victories, carve my name into stone, use my own blood, sweat, and piss to build a lasting memorial to my existence. This doesn't mean we do away with our mentors or our heroes. How horrible to be without heroes? We find them and connect with them and help shape us.

So here I am, I have to start making my own way, I have even found myself in the role of being a mentor to some of the people in my life. The thing that keeps nagging at me though, is that I miss being in the learner position. It was easier then, fewer mistakes, less responsibility, and the landscape was knowable. I'll be honest, I'm jealous of the people that have taken my place as a learner. I want to be back there, I want that relationship again. Or do I?

Luke would never have been able to defeat the Emperor, help redeem Darth Vader, if he had stayed the learner. He needed to become his own man, a Jedi Master. Charles Bukowski once said, "What really matters, is how you walk through the flame." When I look back at the flame that I have walked through, I wouldn't want to walk through it again. Those really difficult lessons, those painful mistakes, I learned from all of them. I may not be a master writer and I have lots left to learn, but I'm so glad to be where I am. My skin is tougher, my smile bigger, my hair thinner, my mind sharper.

I will still miss those old learner mentor relationships, get jealous of those that are there now, but this place, it is dark and new and and exciting and scary and...it is...Wow, just wow.

Damn the Man, Save the Empire

Well, it is nearing on finals week, so blogging has taken a massive back seat. But when a thought sticks in my head, it just needs to come out.

So my title, it already makes me kind of a hypocrite here. Being a college professor, in many situations, I am The Man. But hey, let's take this out of the sphere of my professional life and into my personal life and this fabulous experience of reconstruction and self actualization.

I do not like rules. Let's just call it rebellion or a healthy distrust for people in positions of authority. I've read 1984, V for Vendetta, Fahrenheit 451, and they have made me very suspicious of anyone trying to make rules for me. That's what I really dislike about rules, is people trying to impose their rules on me. I strongly believe in a Generation X term Me-Ism. A Me-Ism is a formulated, personally tailored set of rules, boundaries, and social behaviors that guide that individuals life. This can incorporate religions, new age mysticism, astrology, or just passages from Hunter S. Thompson and Jack Kerouac books. Building my own Me-Ism and keeping to it is really important to me. So when people try to impose their arbitrary rules on me, I reflexively start to chafe and kick back.

When I did my two year Mormon mission, the rules were a tough pill to swallow. The Missonary Training Center (MTC) was a larger culture shock than Korea was. Eventually you get use to keeping those rules, they become second nature. What I refused to swallow, was the rules that other missionaries decided to invent and impose on my day to day routine. In the MTC, they had something called Quiet Dignity. Basically, Quiet Dignity means don't be an ass. Don't scream, yell, be vulgar, or other things that would make you look uneducated, boorish, barbaric, or, the worst stereotype of being 19 years old and American. Now, some missionaries decided that Quiet Dignity means that you must shave every inch of humanity off from yourself. One windy day in the MTC I was walking to lunch. Unknown to me the wind had blown my tie up over my shoulder. Some missionary I had never seen before decided to stop me he put both hands on my shoulders put my tie back into place and said loudly so that other missionaries could see the size of his spirit and said "Quite Dignity Elder, Quiet Dignity". Now, my first urge was to punch the smug little boy in the throat, but I didn't. Little did I know, that was just the first time I would deal with this.

Even a decade after my mission, I still have people trying to impose their rules on me. I've been told there's something wrong with me for all of the following reasons: Drinking Dr. Pepper, watching movies rated R, not being married by 25, reading books, listening to music, voting Democrat, not voting Republican, not being a registered Republican, being an English teacher, buying Magic cards, buying comic books, buying records, buying books...look, the list goes on.

Here's the problem with other people's rules, you can never keep them. They will confront you in their passive aggressive way, "Do you know what that movie is rated?" There is no correct answer, they do not want an answer. They want you to know you are in the wrong and have broken their rule. No matter how hard you try and twist, wedge, or cram yourself into their rules, you can never do it. You will always be in the wrong. Live your rules, live your life, and be the best you you can be. Yeah, I know that's a rule. So hey, take it or leave it.

I'm still building my Me-Ism. I'm forging my own rules for dating, personal relationships, spirituality, and life in general. And it is great. Because, at the end of all this, they are my dates, my relationships, and most importantly, my spirituality. So yes, I will do things that make other people upset, that will make them shake their head and wonder what is wrong. To them I say Damn the Man, Save the Joe Willis Empire!

So Much To Do Before I Die

"And Keats, big poet Keats, Keats was dead by twenty-four" - Otis, Kicking and Screaming

First, I'm referring to Kicking and Screaming, the film by Noah Baumbauch, not the terrible movie staring Will Ferrell. (I hate that I have to clarify that now.) And second, I really dislike Keats. I understand that he wrote some good poems and he died tragically as this poet doctor, but, I'm good. Like many of the quotes I use, this ties in well with what I've been dealing with lately.

As many of you may have heard, I didn't get the Doctor Who job. Now, there's definitely a large nugget of disappointment over this, but there is a lot of good to come out of it. One of the good things in particular was the 45 minute pep talk I received from Stephen Moffat himself. Now having him talk to me about the future and life in general was really helpful. He was right around thirty when he really got going on his writing career, when he finally found his goal and dream.

I've really started to feel more like an adult in this world. The one down fall of that is being here in Southern Utah. How is it possible, really, to be treated as old when you're only 31? To make matters worse, I've apparently failed at the only worthwhile goal and dream to have here. Now, someday I do plan on getting married and having kids. It's something I want, but it isn't the only thing out there for me to achieve. And trust me, I haven't missed some magical opportunity for that to happen. Guess what, outside of this little bubble, this 18-21 marriage thing comes across as strange. Does that mean you shouldn't do it if it's something that you are 100% certain about? No, go with that gut. However, stop trying to impose your life choices on me. Especially, when you don't know me.

I had this horrible feeling for so long that I was too old to reach my goals, live my dreams, do the things that I wanted to do. I'm glad I don't feel that way anymore and thank you Stephen Moffat for helping me grasp the most important thing I need to do and understand the biggest mistake of my life, living my life for other people. I've wasted so much time doing that. My entire high school existence was trying to do stuff that would either make other people happy or keep my peers from labeling me "Weird" and beating me up. So I squandered in mediocrity. Trying things I didn't really enjoy only to give up on them eventually. Even things I did enjoy were tainted by me trying to be something I wasn't. But, of course, people will tell me over and over again that it was my lack of commitment, my not applying myself, well, bull shit. How do you develop commitment or apply yourself when you are just trying to make it day to day and putting on mask over mask just to survive?

The same thing happened when I started college. I was doing a major that was suppose to make someone else happy, a major I had very little interest in. Being an English major at SUU was probably the first thing I really did for myself. One of the first things I did to make myself happy. Even after that choice, I've been making choice after choice to appease what other people want, or what I think other people want.

So, let's let this blog post stand as a mile marker, a sign post, a new manifesto. I am young yet in my bones, I have much to do before I die, and dreams to achieve. My dreams. I am sorry, I have failed at making other people happy, it is not a power I posses and a poor use of my life. It's time to live for me and be what I want.

For the Love of Money

"Your love gives me such a thrill/But your love won't pay my bills/I want money" - The Flying Lizards

Well, to be completely accurate, the song Money (That's What I Want) was originally performed by Barrett Strong and later a version by The Beatles and a few other people. But I like the version from the 90s film Empire Records. However, it doesn't really matter, I just felt this particular lyric summed up a bit of what's on my mind right now, at least part of what's on my mind.

In case those reading this haven't heard, I had a pretty major interview this morning. I spent about two hours being interviewed by the producers of Doctor Who. Needless to say, my mind is spinning from this interview, but as my brain works through, figures, and processes this current life situation, some interesting things have bubbled to the surface. One of those things is money.

With most interviews and job situations, pay scale does come up. I'll be honest, I stopped breathing for a moment when they told me how much I would get paid if I happened to get this job. Then I did the conversion from Pounds to Dollars and peed a little. It's a sizable income and after I composed myself and changed my underwear, I started to think about those numbers. That money would be nice. New things to buy, luxuries to enjoy, expensive suits, TVs, sound systems...and then it hit me; who gives a shit? I have the chance to work on one of my favorite shows ever. I have the potential of being part of something I love passionately and sharing it with millions. Money is irrelevant at this point. Hey, bonus, they will give me a pay check. I can pay rent and buy food, good deal. And maybe it's wrong to think that, but I just can't glom onto the whole money thing. Let me explain.

When I'm looking at all the potential future careers I have - professor, script editor, writer - my annual income never factors in. I just don't think about it. I would rather be happy than have lots of money. It's just the way I am. Now, I realize that this idea is counter to what many people today think. It's counter to what many people I know think and there is probably a spot in hell waiting for me for defying the almighty dollar. Sure I want to get paid for what I do. I need to pay rent, buy food, etc. But I'm also realistic about the kind of money I'm going to pull in. In fact, if we throw the current script editor position out, I'm a college professor, and I know how much that pays.

I am quite frequently reminded how much people in my sphere make either by conversations I have with parents and siblings or by the possessions they have. They have their cars, boats, home theaters, cabins, and I can't force myself to care. When I worked at the SUU library, I could look at the public record sheet that showed how much each professor at SUU made. I looked at how much the English teachers made. Of course I did. And with all the budget cuts that higher education faces, I know they probably haven't changed a lot in the four years since I last looked. I'm ready for my $60,000 a year future.

Now ladies, if that figure is below your price point, I've got a middle finger for you to inspect. Do price points actually exist? Of course they do. All those vapid sorority girl stereotypes must come from somewhere. But this brings me back to the song quote I started out with. With the world in financial turmoil, the gap between rich and poor getting bigger, I'm glad I have surrounded myself with friends that love people because of who they are, not how much they make. When I eventually get married, I know that the woman I'm with will love me for being Joe and not my monthly pay check. So, at the end of the day, Professor pay or Doctor Who pay, I'm still a win win situation.

Spring Break

One week until spring break. Normally, this means very little to me. Spring break is usually a week of being horribly lazy and just playing video games till my eyes bleed. This year will be quite different. I actually have a full week ahead of me.

I'm quite excited for the first part of my week. As a birthday present, I get to go down to Phoenix and see my favorite musical Avenue Q with Sarah LaRue. As an added bonus, I get to go and play at the wildlife park. Now that's what I call lots of fun.

My second spring break adventure however, has started to cause me a touch of apprehension. Wednesday night I will be hopping a plane for St. Louis and chaperoning the SUU students at this years Sigma Tau Delta national conference. Now, under most circumstances, a free trip to St. Louis would be a great thing, but last year I did promise myself I wouldn't be going to another Sigma Tau Delta conference again.

My promise and apprehension here is a perfect example of the human nature to avoid things that are unpleasant. If you eat Wendy's and then proceed to throw up for the next 24 hours, you aren't going back to Wendy's any time soon. The same is true for me and Sigma Tau Delta. I never should have gone last year. Poor choice on my part. Now, admittedly, last year at this time I was eyeball deep in poor choices. So making one more shouldn't be a big surprise for anyone.

Last years conference was an almost constant hell for me. There were a couple of moments where I didn't specifically want to just throw up my soul into the toilet. Thank God for drag shows, Hell's Kitchen, Neil Gaiman, and comic shops. Now, sorry if this hurts the feelings of anyone who was there, but it was terrible for me. That's just the facts. And if I'm going to be perfectly honest, my enjoyment of Sigma Tau Delta conferences has decreased significantly over time. There's a lot of reasons for this diminishing return, but I think my increasing age and maturity is a huge factor.

I have come to the realization that I'm a 31 year old in a 23 year old culture. Now true, I'm not your average 31 year old. I've still got my comics, my video games, and my child like joy of the world, but that aside, I'm still 31. I have my masters degree, I teach a full load of college classes, I'm shooting for a Phd, and I'm dealing with my writing in a way that they never tell you about as an undergrad. So I'm feeling like an adult, which is a good thing, but there is just stuff out there that has started to drive me through the wall.

I've had it with people second guessing and trying to correct who I am. My mom may still treat me like I'm somewhere between 16 and 23, but that doesn't mean anyone else has that right. Who I am, what I'm going to do, how I'm going to spend my paycheck, is my business. This has always been a brig problem with me continuing to deal with Sigma Tau Delta. At its core, Sigma Tau Delta is about undergraduates and where they are at. Recognition goes to the safe, simple, and archaic. Experimentation and specialization is frowned upon. When I was an undergrad, it fit perfectly for what I was doing, but I've moved far beyond that. Professor Joseph Willis has no place presenting at Sigma Tau Delta.

So, my goal in going to conference this year is to make it my own. I have the things that I need to do and take care of while I'm there, but I'm Professor Willis and that means I need to bring that with me to this because the only place Professor Willis has at a conference like this is as a chaperon. I am who and what I am, and I know what that is better than anyone alive.

The sad ending to this story, I'm starting to question if Professor Willis has a place here in Cedar City. I'm doing what I can, but I'm not sure how long I can survive in a culture that punishes me for being single and over the age of 25. I'm sick of this culture telling me something is wrong. I've been doing an inventory and diagnostic. Trust me, there's nothing wrong here.

The Perpetual State of Me

Today I got one of those flash-of-insight-yes-that-is-me realizations. These moments are wonderful, but don't really mean much unless I analyze and own it. So what is this realization? I am perpetually in the state of falling in love. Now, in no make way shape or form is this a bad thing. I see it as a pretty good thing. But really, what does that mean?

I am first and foremost in love with life; with my life. I teach classes I enjoy, I have some incredible students, and I work with some awesome people. Does my life have room to grow and improve? Of course it does, but that makes me love it that much more. I'll eventually go on to a PhD. program, teach new classes, new students, meet new people. I'm not the best writer on the planet, but, as the saying goes, I have miles to travel before I sleep. I have pages and pages to write before I die. Just the thought of that alone makes me fall in love with my life all over again.

I also find myself falling in love with women at a surprising rate. For those of you who just took a double take at that, let me explain. I have found myself falling in love in pieces. I will fall in love with a smile for the life of that smile, the way a cute hat is worn for 50 minutes, the joy of someone's personality every time I'm permitted into the glow of that personality. In those moments, I pour out all the compassion and love I have. And, to be quite honest, that love goes with them. I'm fully aware that no relationship will come out of these moments, and that love may never be returned. But, I don't care. Those moments are mine, and I'll enjoy them how I please.

For some reason, I'm crazy hard on myself. Had I been born in a different time and place, I would have been one of those people in a hair shirt. The hair shirt needs to come off. My life is good, the world around me is beautiful and desirable beyond belief. I have far to much to do, why waist it flaying myself pointlessly? Let's add a few more leagues of depth and more miles of breadth to this life. And fall in love even more.