She flies, she flows,

bleeding rhythm, spilling prose…

I’ve got this itch lately, this restless sadness that won’t go away. I feel like a hamster in a wheel, running round and round, making the same steps over and over, not going anywhere, and not even burning any calories. I mean, for all that running the little creatures do, you’d expect a six pack under the ball of fur, yes?

I’m supposed to be writing poetry. The idea is that since I rant like a needle on a scratch [think turntables and LPs], I need to put my rants in verse. If I can find five different ways to phrase the same whine, I could actually be onto something. So…

She flies, she flows,

bleeding rhythm, spilling prose…

So far, that’s all I’ve got. Meh.

I should be moving soon, to somewhere a little more purple. I’ve got the site all scoped out, I’m just having my house-guy tweak the furniture and stuff. It’s kind of scary, a bold move, like chopping off my hair, one of those transition things. I’m not even sure why I’m doing it except that I want to start again, return to basics, yank off the safety net and see if I can catch any fish. I’m kind of hungry for protein.

God, I hope I know what I’m doing…

♫ Steven Curtis Chapman ♫ Diving In ♫

Yes, I do occasionally watch Scooby Doo and Inspector Gadget. And I hated North Stars and Bata Bullets in the 80s. Absolutely love them now though…

Who’d’a thunk I’d ever be too tired busy to blog? Le sigh. Scary things happening in blogville. Something must be done! Like sleeping less. Four hours would be ideal.

So. Since I am mostly too sleepy and over worked to blog, I shall celebrate:

• K2, the pretty boy that I adore, the one man that can make me laugh even as he gives me bad news. How I love that boy.
• K1-plus-one, rediscovering siblings, my delightful brothers, both over six feet tall, yet they’re not above helping the big little sister out. Y’all rule.
• K7, my best friend, he who makes me laugh and blush, cheers me up when I’m sad, and looks equally hot in suits, jeans, and shorts. But I do miss the weight and the baseball cap.
• K3, the dark chocolate wonder who is so cute when he sulks that I almost enjoy his brooding.
• K6, the fun-and-funky nerd with whom I will eventually synchronise fries and coffee.
• K13, he of the pretty grey hair who finally got it right. I’m so very happy for you. *cheeky grin*
• K10 The Sweet, whom I often think of even as I miss.
• And the newest K who doesn’t yet know he’s a K, but who is smart and fun and fond of CTC. He wears glasses too, and likes rock. Yay! MTP I hereby knight you K15.

That is all. Back to work.

And btw, there is a downside to working freelance; I can’t whine about my bosses because they all read my blog. Le sigh. I can, however, charge them lots of PITA fees … *cue evil laughter*

♫ Under my skin ♫ Skillet ♫

If I have one true obsession, this is probably it. Which is strange, because I really don’t fuss over my hair. I like my dreads because I can hit the salon once a month, spend an hour under the drier, and ignore it for the next thirty days. So it’s strange that I call this an obsession.

But the truth is I love hair. I love to see it on other people’s heads, to touch it, to run my hands through it. I saw this Citi Hoppa conductor yesterday, a tough gangster-looking chick with a killer bob – I couldn’t stop staring! It was weird that her coiffe was so girly, but it just looked so perfect!

I wish I had caucasian [or at least Asian] hair so I could make it stand, dye it purple and pull a Roxette, just like my avatar. But, of course, if I actually had Caucasian hair, I’d probably still ignore it. I like my Sailor’s hair because it’s brown and softly spiky, I can run my hands through it, and he never has to comb it. Perfect!

Back to my own head. The short look has grown on me. And thanks to selective perception, I now notice all the girls [and boys] with long luxurious locks. Kind of like that scene in Ally McBeal where Georgia cut her hair, and then Nell came and twirled hers in the bathroom mirror.

But the odd thing is that I’m not jealous. I actually like my hair like this, even as everyone asks why. I think it’s because everyone asks why. I’ve always liked going against ‘them’, standing out for all the wrong reasons. In a world where the ladies either want their hair deliciously long, intricately bobbed, or rebelliously shorn, I kind of like being inbetween.

So, I think I’ll keep my hair short after all. Unless I change my mind. Or unless my Sailor says otherwise *wink* He’s surprisingly quiet on the matter. But then again, he’s a guy. Do you think he’s even noticed?

♫ Lying from you ♫ Linkin Park ♫