I don’t really understand the mode I’m in at the moment. My head is all jumbled, a mixture of enjoyment and frustration. I had a doctor’s appointment today, which immediately throws you off (it doesn’t necessarily turn it into a bad day, it simply makes it an off day), as a matter of spite.

I feel kind of disjointed from it all, though really that’s been Sunday night when I went to see Spirited Away with Eli and Megan. Excellent movie, and vaguely left me a similar feeling to the early Narnia books. Vague satisfaction at a fantastic world coexisting with reality (or at least the mock reality that stories use to try to say that it could happen in THIS world).

All I DO know is that I’m left distracted. Not sure if I should be upset, angry, or happy, or none of the above, or what. Just stuck somewhere in the middle, like my gears slipped and I’m stuck in that grinding spot in between.

The air is crisp and clear outside, but not bitingly cold yet. The leaves have started to fall from the trees, a panoply of various autumnal colors, creating a rustling sound as they skitter across the sidewalks and streets. I’m not outside, though. I’m inside. Sitting in the picture window of Dirt Cowboy, writing. I have a large cup of chai sitting in a paper cup (scalding hot liquid contained in stiff waxy paper rolled into a tube and plugged at one end, an experience in of itself, uniquely different than from a glass or plastic or porcelain), but it just sits beside me, cooling, with a plastic lid over it slowing the whole process.

“My friend Candace is a dancer, and really beautiful. One time we were walking down the street and a guy offered us fake ids. Not in a store or anything, just right on the sidewalk. We decided to give it a shot and gave him our money. He took off running, and Candace, who is only like 85 pounds, chased him all the way through town and finally got our money back. It was SO funny.” Idle conversations in a coffee shop. Idle OVERHEARD conversations in a coffee shop. I’m just sitting here, listening to my surroundings, curious.

Curiouser. As I was getting some money from the ATM located inside the shop (highway robbery at $1.50 additional money, but this is a capitalist society: you pay for convenience), a gaggle of girls came in from outside, and started to sing happy birthday to a girl already inside. The birthday girl clearly was touched, and happy that her friends cared. I, being at the atm, was in the middle of the group, and could hear one tell another “HOW embarassing.” It is odd what we do for others, how quickly we are willing to lose face, smiling while hating every minute of it. Or perhaps not. Perhaps we simply cover our own desire for such things with snide comments and conspiracy.

I’m not the type to

Honestly, I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I’m not sure if I’m the type to do . I’m a jumble of words and thoughts and opinions, a mixture of introvert and extrovert, releasing sometimes the strangest things, and holding things still stranger. Sometimes it seems if the roles of different topics are reversed for me: something I am willing to talk about others are not. And vice versa.

But then, am I really so different from anyone else in that respect, or am I just being elitist again and assuming that I’m a special little oyster, god’s only pearl.

One sec, need to see if someone out side is my friend Richard, whom I haven’t seen in over a year.