Some People Want Like A Candle Flame...

...I want like a forest fire.

All told, life has been pretty good. I've got an office at work, which may sound petty, and not what you're used to hearing from someone more wont to write from his pathos than from his ambition, but there it is. Two-and-a-half years of a light-less cubicle and now I've an office with a window. Productivity is up. I'm happy to go into work, and since I spend so much god damned time there, this is good.

Maybe I 'haint got no lady no more, and maybe that's a bit of a downer, but what of it? I had a weekend so full of fun and happiness that I could hardly believe it was over. I woke Monday morning and thought maybe it's still Sunday. Maybe I get to sleep in. That may not sound so great, but it's a sign of a good weekend, I'll tell you what.

So what if I still seem to be looking for someone? So what if I want the answers? Why is that so important to me, those answers? What, if not who am I looking for? Why do I stay in the car and recline the seat after I've arrived home and play the same song over and over, wondering if it's OK to just crawl into the back and sleep there? Why do I walk to my car in the middle of a dinner with friends to listen to that one, slow, sad song just one more time? And is *that* normal? I think not.

'fuck's wrong with me? I'll tell you what: precisely nothing much and, perhaps, that has me just a bit on edge.