The Moon is High

so. . .I suppose I should update again; I've not in a week.
I've been downloading a few things off iTunes (Mickey Avalon, Bushido, Buckcherry, the Coasters, the Monkees, etc.); that's been pretty fun. The moon has been lovely lately, I've been walking the dogs every night after my Xbox Live time (around 11:30-1:00). The ice on the lake is beautiful around now; and with the moon so bright I barely ever need a flashlight. Sometime's its fun just to be walking about in people's yards at night when you know you're the only one about at that time of night. It's quite liberating if I say so. To be alone in darkness is refreshing; especially when it's cold like it's been. The cold keeps my legs going. Whether in silence or with a podcast in my ears, I like it. The dogs do too; with me going to bed at 1:30 or so and my mother waking at 4:00, they usually have someone letting them out and in all the time.
Funny, I used to be quite frightened of venturing out into the darkness at night when I'd have to take out the dogs. Afraid of people who lurk, I suppose. But I think it's a little cold for them, and I doubt that there is a large lurker population at the lake.

Florida Edition Part IV.

Well, it’s the 17th.
I’ve caught a bit of a chill (how I managed that in Florida I’m not really sure). I suppose it might just be from all the cigarettes (it’s really just a stuffy nose and my complaining), because I’ve not really been in contact with anyone but the people at my grandmother’s house.
My dad and I went to Target today (there’s a Target and a Publix on every corner), picked up two cases of water, a copy of “Rainbow 6: Vegas”, “The Black Parade” by My Chemical Romance. I don’t have my Xbox here; so I can’t really say what Rainbow 6 is like, and I doubt you really care.
As far as “The Black Parade” though, I have to listen to it a few more times. I haven’t heard anything bad about it though, and I suppose that it delivers some good music. Not really a fan of MCR though.

I’m going home tomorrow, so I feel like maybe I should squeeze in the things that I’ve not done yet (math, zombie awareness, brush my teeth [just kidding]), because I know I’ll be in no mood to do them when I get home; I doubt I’ll be prepared to do anything but hang out with Quinn and Ruby (the pooches).

To go home I am excited; though I can understand why my grandmother loves this place as her home.
When you live alone and retire this is a lovely place to be; she has a lovely view from her porch, she has a beautiful house and a shopping place at every corner. But it’s no home.
There is no soul here where I am in Florida (you must understand, I’m not in Ventura, or Miami, or Daytona Beach; I’m in Cape Coral. This is the shuffle board area; senior centers and marinas).

It’ll be nice to get home, but I’m afraid my joy will be balance by other’s sorrow to leave her “slice of paradise”.

My mothers friend showed up today; she’s going to be here till Thursday morning. We leave Thursday afternoon. Whether we’re going to make two trips to the airport or just stay there till our flight, I’m not really sure.
Since it’s Monday and I still have three days till Thursday, I’m getting a little too excited about going home.
Now, normally I’m nervous around aircraft (not the machinery itself, or “terrorists”, just the idea of confinement with a whole bunch of people). Ships and stuff are fine, and it’s not claustrophobia; I suppose it’s just nerves. None coming down here, but when I think about going home it makes me nervous. Maybe because I go back to the world.
When I’m here I can sort of be away from the daily grind. One of my big fears is life becoming monotonous; when I’m there things (while boring) are always happening.
Polyester heaven this may be; but it’s still a certain degree of serenity.

I just realized something. This blog was born (and continues at the speed) of teen angst (very unreliable, that teen angst is).
I was rather hoping that would never come. I always scoff at the myspace sob storys of, well, I suppose they're my peers. And yet when I look at the censoring that I'm doing, well, all the stuff that I remove is born out of anger, and I suppose the negative; almost exclusively 12-16 year old feelings that arise from it.

I suppose I was doing well, I got to 15 before any noticeable symptoms regarding the need for a (as my dad would call) "waahmbulance". I can always be a drama king, if need be.
How's Our Town going, coincedentally?

Florida Edition Part II

(Still in a Cafe, these most recent documents where scribed using word. The following was penned on the 13th of January, 2007)

Huh. Day three, seems like I’m going to be going home soon. Unfortunately I still have a work week to go.
I suppose since I have nothing to do I can continue writing.
Today we went to a “street festival”. Unfortunately it was nothing like, say, Third Thursday like they have in Willimantic. This was more like a craft sale that happened to be on asphalt.
It was full of; as my grandmother calls them “shrivs”. Meaning senior citizens. This sounds kind of funny coming from a woman that has been collecting social security since ’04. But she seems to think she’s still around 60. Good for her, I suppose.

The other day (I think day 1, actually) I met Larry. I don’t know his last name: everything I know about him I heard from my grandmother.
So, he walked into the screened in sun room and said hello.
So my grandmother has told him a whole bunch of things about me; and myself a whole bunch of things about him. Unfortunately none of the things we knew about each other where entirely true.
For example; he’s a national sprint kayaking champion. I was told he was an Olympian.
He was under the impression that I was an award winning drummer (I was a sergeant for a little while and carried an honor drum).
So, needless to say we were both a little surprised at each other.
The one thing he had heard about me that was true was that I had been invited to my local high schools promenade last year.
Anyway, I was under the impression that he was a supermodel/astronaut/millionaire; and he seemed to think I was a mix of Hanko Doebringer and Steve Jobs. Seems like a nice guy though. Invited me to go play pool with him. Kind of cautious to play pool with a man whose arms are about as big as my chest.
I guess I’ll write more soon. I have to write a zombie presentation for the 212th Attack Battalion (I’m a commander in a star wars fan group type of thing).

A Few Hours Later. . .

I just got back from driving. I was in the drivers seat too! I got to drive on the highway and a few other places. It feels very good to be behind a wheel, and it’s not scary or uncomfortable at all. Of course I didn’t parallel park or anything, and I did only top out at about 45 mph, but it was still a blast to be there. I never really noticed how much of a swivel your head really has to be on.

I suppose I may be a little too confident there; my beginners luck may be just that.
Still, it seems like I picked up the interface without much difficulty, and I wasn’t afraid at any point. I suppose that may be why most males who just receive their licenses have such high rates of insurance. So, I guess we’re going to go and do it again tomorrow, which will be when I suppose I’ll really see how good of a driver I am (to be blunt though, I don’t pretend to be skilled in any fashion. If I were 16 and driving the way I was today I would probably be viewed as a bit of a dick).
I think there must be a fine line between being confident and being dangerous. It would appear, however, that being nervous can cause an accident too. One creates one’s own experience, in the words of Dr. Phil, and if that’s the case (keeping in mind that Philip McGraw isn’t recognized by any psychoanalytic party) then it would lead me to the conclusion that if one believed that you were going to be in a car crash that particular morning then perhaps your absent minded mental wanderings would lead to a. . .
But my mother just called me to dinner.

(As it's the 14th of January, I'll probably not write another peice till tommorow and continue with my pattern. As such I'll likely continue my writing on the 15th, 17, then whence I'm home I'll write a more conclusive peice. Because I know you can't get enough of me (haha)).

Florida Edition!

(I'm in a Barnes and Noble Cafe in Fort Myers Florida, these are the blog reports of the past 4 days. The following was written on 1/11/07)

I learned something today. Florida; will kill you. If you aren’t careful in Florida, you die.
Today I heard about a man who went out to get a newspaper, and he died. That’s right, the attempt to get a news source in Florida killed him.
You know how he died?
I’ll tell you.
He was walking to his mailbox and saw a snake (big one). He fell back and hit his head on a rock and passed out. That didn’t kill him. In New England he may have died; I assume because we have bigger and harder rocks here. See, while he was down a Gila Monster came and started smelling him (a Gila Monster is kind of like a Komodo Dragon except bigger). When the guy woke up he saw a big lizard head with really big teeth smelling him; he panicked. I would too.
But anyway, when he started screaming and trying to get up the Gila started to bite and claw him.
So the guy heroically got out a small pocket knife and started going at the beast. Eventually the lizard felt it had gotten enough of its junk ruined and went back to hell (or wherever they come from). That didn’t kill him either. On his walk back into his house to call the hospital (or whatever he was going to do), he passed out from blood loss. His body lands on a fire ant hill. And the poor guy gets eaten alive. That’s what happens in florida. Did you get all that? All he did was go into his lawn. And he gets bashed by a rock, attacked by a Komodo dragon, and then eaten alive by insects.

All you have to worry about in Connecticut is bears. And the bears smaller cousin the bat (I say “smaller cousin” because all bats are happens to be bears with wings). And if you fall and hit your head on a rock; you usually just die; or live and go inside. Now, I’m worried to go outside because I’m writing this on Thursday January 11, 2007 at a little past 9 at night. I’m sitting on my grandmother lanai (Floridian for “deck”) and I can hear either Gila monsters or alligators rustling in the bushes not 20 feet from me. This scares me to death. When I go outside at my house (which is urban in no sense of the word) I might see a coyote. I’ve even seen wolves. But they are pooches, just like my golden retrievers; except with bigger teeth. When I step outside here, I might have my leg eaten.
Me and my leg are tight, too. I don’t know how I would get around without it.
I think I’ll go inside.