leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bob Dylan It was the weekend. A rather interesting one, in which I played dress-up and went out and laughed and drank and danced and saw naked girls and played silly games in a hot tub and slept in a bed with several other people like puppies in a box and had a generally wonderful time. Then it was Sunday. One of those fuzzy-headed ones, in which you feel as if the previous week was a very long time ago, and you are unsure of your purpose in life. I felt much like filling my little blue honda with everything i own that would fit and driving to somewhere new. Because perhaps my reason for living is somewhere I am not. So maybe I should be there. If I only knew where there was. And it's not that I'm unhappy where I am. It's only that I'm not sure if it is where I'm supposed to be. Even though I think everything happens for a reason and every moment is exactly as it should be. But there are the times when things are changing, right before they become what they are supposed to be, when you feel as if static electricity is surrounding your body and making your thoughts stand on end. And that is what Sunday felt like. It's all rather confusing and makes me feel a little undone and a little wonderful. Oh bother. We shall see. 1:06 p.m. - June 23, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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