Change

I sit watching events unfold,

events that appear to go unnoticed by most,

yet they have a deep meaningful affect in

my head,

my heart,

my soul.

Words,

action

silence,

movements,

inaction,

gestures,

expressions

energy

enthusiasm

emotions

are all candy for my mind to devour

and calculate the meaning of

even if none was intended

I can no more stop analyzing these events than I can stop breathing air to live.

And just like air,

I have very little evidence that these things are real,

or that I am even aware that I am taking them in.

These seemingly unimportant events,

that strung together,

make up the vast majority of our life

affect me for reasons I can not explain

and to depths I might not admit,

or even know.

I just sit here, noticing, evaluating, comprehending and... changing.

I'm sure,

just sitting here,

to everyone else,

it seems that I am noticing very little

or changing

not much at all.

So I sit here,

looking like the person I was a moment ago

and yet so much has changed,

that went unnoticed

just a moment ago...

I have questions...

Is it wrong for a man to consider a woman's breast size as a qualifier for dating? If so, why is tall, dark and handsome not seen as a sexist qualifier when women use it?

If I am not anti-Hispanic but I'm against illegal immigration am I a racist?

Do I need to carry papers to prove my citizenship if I travel to Arizona? I'm worried because I look just like a lot of our Canadian neighbors to the north, talk like them too. I don't want to be profiled and possibly deported.

If it's wrong to profile, why does the government employ law enforcement officers called "profilers"? Some even work for the Secret Service to protect the president.

Shouldn't the people we elect, who are now trying to pass laws to save us from ourselves, pass a law telling us who to elect? That way we'll get it right for sure.

Romancing Alone

"The engines roared. The boat broke the grip the tide and the dock had conspired to keep them bound to land, to their mundane life. They headed across the river that danced with the last glimmering rays of light the sun could manage to shoot over the horizon. They could see the silhouette of the bridge and the old city coming into view. Sitting at the back of the boat, he placed his arm around her shoulder and gently stroked the curls in her long brown hair. It had been awhile since he had felt this close and this at peace with her. Slowly she turned to him. He turned his head slightly to meet the gaze of her big blue eyes. He noticed that they hadn't changed in over twenty years of loving her. She carefully moved her lips near his ears and yelled, "DAMN! THE ENGINES SURE ARE LOUD RIGHT HERE! WE SHOULD HAVE SAT SOMEWHERE ELSE!"

Had my wife read this paragraph in one her romance novels I'm quite sure she would have found it somewhat romantic, save the last line of course. Living it however, she failed to appreciate any romantic qualities the situation seem to present at all.

This past weekend I took The Wife downtown for some much needed "us" time. I booked us a room at a nice hotel overlooking the river. I tried to be as romantic as I know how but seemed to miss the mark more times than not. We had a great time, a fabulous time to tell the truth. God knows we needed it. Still, the weekend left me wondering if the romance so many women seem to be seeking isn't right under their noses more times than they recognize? Or is it some unobtainable action that can only reach it's true potential in the bleached white pages of a romance novel? And if that is the case, do we men really stand a chance of turning fiction into reality? I wonder...

Thinking just a tad

I've been thinking about Christian Slater lately. You know, because he's so dreamy and all that. Ok, maybe not like that but actually a little bit like that. What I've actually been thinking about is his hair.

What's up with this man's hair??? He has a bit of a high forehead and a full head of hair so why comb it straight back? That's a tad weird, right?

Well, I'm not really thinking that it's weird. I'm really thinking that my hairline is a lot like his. If I must admit it, my forehead is a bit higher than average, like his. Not much higher mind you. Lets just say a tad higher, and leave it at that. Seriously, leave it at that.

So I was thinking, not much but a tad, that maybe, just maybe, I should let my hair grow out and comb it back, like, say, Christian Slater does. Only I don't really like the way he does his hair much, maybe a tad but people must right. Being that he's a big star and all. I do like the cool way he gets to push it back when it falls forward. So there is that.

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking about, but not too much, because that would be weird. At least a tad.

Confession #2

Sometimes when spell check doesn't find a misspelled word I change one just to see if it's working.

Confession

When I'm clearing brush at home with my machete (I love that word machete... machete, machete, maacheeetee) I sometimes pretend I'm a contestant on the show Survivor.

Then I vote all the dumb ass people out of my life.