Musings on John Bolton

Is it just me, or does anyone else think that John Bolton's mustache looks taped on? A perfect example of it is found in this article. It looks like it's trying to fly off as he rounds the corner! Even when he's talking about something serious like nuclear weapons, my mind can't help but wonder about what it'd be like to just rush up to him and try to take it off. Would it actually be attached, or is it just a removable fashion accessory? He looks relatively less ridiculous without the mustache, as seen on down in the Wikipedia article. Relatively.

Yesterday

An array of experiences yesterday:

"WRONG!" -- said to me while trying to verify information on a local business

"**** wants to add you as a friend." -- the past creeping up to make me deal with it

Swat! -- the sound/action of a crazy person swatting me away as I walked by him on the sidewalk while he was doing a crossword puzzle

"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!" -- the sound of the same crazy person yelling while I was a couple of blocks away

"I think she's asexual or something." -- drunk woman at sushi place before giving her boyfriend a good smooch as they stood in the middle of the restaurant (i.e. in everyone's way)

Click -- the sound of my grandma hanging up after complaining about something for five minutes without saying she loved me

Chirp, chirp -- the sound of insects celebrating the cool night air

Thus, I'm avoiding most people today. Friends are different, but people in general I'm steering clear of as much as humanly possible.

Scenes of Charlotte

I saw a little girl getting into a beat up pick-up truck with her daddy, her pony tails not long enough to hit her bright pink booksack as she twisted her head to look as I passed. Her father, dressed in work clothes full of stains and tears, opened the creaky door to allow her entrance. His head turned as I passed too.

I sat and watched two guys eating, young guys, ignoring the world outside of their table, their vision constantly fixed on one another, even when they tried to shift their heads to not be so apparant to each other before they finally gave up and stared into the abyss within each other's eyes. One's hands moved while he spoke as the other sat back, line of sight remaining poised on his partner's body. I went unnoticed in my viewing.

I watched the man running through the rain in his grey tank top and blue shorts, soaked to the brim. He would have looked perfect in a trim suit in a boardroom, conversing, checking his cell phone, giving instructions to his secretary and looking through the huge glass windows as the rain fell outside. However, here he was, in the rain, running through it without my umbrella or any other to shield him.

Fear

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

Fear is the mind-killer.

I'm facing up to my fears, and one way or another, things will get accomplished today. I'm tired of being a shell of a man, and I'm not going to be one anymore. I want to be whole. I want to be free. I want to live again, and so I shall.

If you think it's me calling, it probably is

This study sounds interesting. I've had the phone telepathy as well as instant messaging telepathy. Can't say that I've ever gotten an E-mail right after thinking of someone, unless, of course, the thought was "Why doesn't so and so send me that damned E-mail that I need right now?". If that counts, then I've had that one too.

Forward, ever forward

So I'm going to attempt to make a step forward today. I don't know if anything will come of it, but hopefully the stars will be aligned. Truly, something has to give, and I have to be allowed to move forward. Moreover, I have to allow myself to move forward. We shall see...

Endings, beginnings and understanding

As much as I try to pretend that it's not, this is all bringing back a lot of bad memories. Sudden turn for the worst, not being able to do anything but wait for the inevitable, those brief peaceful soul-searching moments taken with a loved one, those tough choices of life and death.

I threw up for the first time in a while on Friday, without even knowing what was coming. My bones chilled. I knew, but I didn't. Through all the pain, through all the suffering, I understand and continue to understand. Part of me wishes I didn't. Part of me wishes I was wrong. Part of me understands that I'm stronger, more able to handle it, to help others through it. Part of me comprehends how this knowledge that I have, while separating me from most that I encounter, can also be utilized for good purposes, to bring people together. I have looked into the eye, and it knows my name. But I know its name as well.

A solemn oath and an impending journey back, but somehow this time it feels like it's forward. The final crescendo of this year and a half composition has been reached. Afterwards, as the sound fades into the deep recesses of the building, leaving only silence in its wake, a new page will be turned, and a new composition will begin. Will it be familiar, or will it be entirely new? There's no way of knowing, but it will be forward, ever forward.

-pour ma mere, avec tout mon coeur

PlutoGate continues

Jeez, who knew people felt so strongly about Pluto? I have to say, I agree with the Pluto decision. Either you have to admit a lot of other objects as planets or say that Pluto isn't a planet. There's no way you can conceivably say Pluto is a planet while larger objects aren't. If the glove don't fit, you must acquit. Oh yeah, and whine, whine, whine, Mr. Scientist Men. "I wasn't there for the vote, I left early." Well, if you felt so strongly on the matter, shouldn't you have stayed that one more day? Everyone knew that defining the status of Pluto was the big aim of the conference. I mean, you go to a conference and leave early, it's your own bloody fault if you miss something important. If your students just decided to leave your class before the semester was over and thus missed the final, would you say it was their fault for leaving early or yours for having the final at the end of the semester?

And that's my two cents on that.