frost over

Let's go old school.

Weather:  A nice and cool breezy summer night/early morning.

Song:  Well...none.  Unless you count crickets chirping and the rhythmic tap of the keyboard.
Favorite of the moment:  "Unplayed Piano" -- Damien Rice.

Book:  Biochemistry, Fifth Edition.  Jeremy M. Berg, John L. Tymoczko, Lubert Stryer.

TV/movie: Kept on VH1.  What a silly addictive show.  Latest movie was The Truth About Cats and Dogs.

Mood:  Insomniac.  More a state.  My back is really tense, my eyes are tired, and my brain is fuzzy.

Title of post:  Today is my birthday.  It's 4:05 a.m., and I have a Biochemistry final in 6 hours and 25 minutes.  But I can't sleep, and I haven't been able to since 1:00 a.m.

Title of post (Part Deux):  Title of a burned CD of random tracks brought to me out of the blue by my ex.  I don't understand.  I don't know if he would have remembered my birthday in the first place without the reminder at the committee/club meeting that we're both executive officers for.  And even if he did remember on his own, I don't know why he decided to bring me a gift this year.  It's been two years since the breakup, and I neverr received one until now.

/end ramble

You tBloggers get the brunt of my random outbursts and complaints.  But I really just don't understand a lot of things about guys anymore.  Not that I ever really did.

I have no idea why I can't sleep either.  But I suppose I shall try once more.

I would listen to the mix CD, but I'd rather be in a more coherent state for that.  There's something about the excitement/anticipation of listening to music that was customized for you by someone else.  I can't describe it well, so I guess I'll refrain from trying.

Good morning to you, sirs and madams.

While driving home with a roommate from dinner at a friend's house, one of my favorite songs from a mix CD comes on in the car.  I sigh and say, "I love this song," and my roommate replies, "You're so giddy...so madly in love, yet not with a person.  You act as though you're in love, but there is no one around."

I quietly respond, "Yes...this is true."  I explain to her that music is one of my greatest passions, that everyone has "his or her thing," and that happens to be mine.

Is that so wrong?  Or is something underlying here?  Is something really wrong in my life?

And am I being too analytical about this?  Probably.  I'll answer that one myself.

So...is anybody out there?

Do you ever find yourself praying for green lights?
You're driving away from one thing after another,
Mind numbing and draining, dotted white lines.
You're struggling to remember what double yellow ones mean.
The music gets louder every minute, traffic sounds fading
As you surround yourself with a wall of sound,
The only protection you have against your thoughts and gridlock.
Suddenly red lights are all around you,
And you'd give anything to keep moving,
To keep evading your mind and avoiding your life
Because you don't know what it means or what it holds.
And you have no idea where you're going.
You look to the left into the turn-only lane,
Into your rearview, in front of you,
Seeing the isolated faces of strangers you will never know
Behind tinted glass and safety bubbles of metal and paint.
Some half-smile, some scowl, some look blank and oblivious.
Yet, in that moment, you are safe, time frozen, free from judgment.
You believe you've found comfort resting in the weight you place on a brake pedal.
But all too soon, your peaceful green returns
With sounds of engines and silence between your songs.
Switch pedals, keep moving, keep breathing,
Keep driving, though you don't know where to go
And you don't know if you'll be happy and safe when you get there.

Why is it so much harder to reach out to your friends who are in relationships?  The friends you used to know when they were single but have now changed to the point where there is no longer room to add new people into their lives and still maintain their friendships?

I remain puzzled.

And I will try to update more often.