I wonder what David Hyde Pierce is up to these days.
Last I checked it was broadway, which is fine. I think he's happy there.
Actors that drift off are kinda like occasionally watching a puppy you had to give away excel at a new park.
At least... when they're happy.
Then of course there's Shatner during the "those years" actors.
Poor bastards stuck in a trailer park in vegas just BEGGING for scraps.
Hmm... I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to fizzle.
But I digress, today is about the struggle of being me
not to say that its particularly difficult living my life
but rather its difficult for me to "be myself" when such a construct is so poorly defined.
In other words...
to this day I'm not entirely sure of who I am.
At times this results in quite an awkward standoff of what is expected of me, and how I'd prefer to react.
Case in point.
I am possitively enamored with a certain someone.
We've had a solid friendship for a few years now and
upon revealing my budding feelings for her
I begin to stagger-stammer-and stumble like a freshman with sweaty palms.
I need to remember that I'm not that odd smelling dolt that nobody likes in the back of the room that is constantly abandoned or discarded.
I'm a tactician warrior-monk sojourning poet composed of two parts logic, one part conflagrating passion and one part observational supposition.
and yes- I just made conflagration a verb.
I just need to take a deep breath, and remember what I stand for.
Food, love, peace and poetry.
Food as a soul.
Love as a work of good.
Peace as a highway.
Poetry because I had nothing better to do.
If you're not into that- then why should I feel rejected or awkward?
*sigh- eyerub*
yeah its easy to sound tough about my passions, but the truth is
this girl is an armor stripper.
How do I contend with that?
There's no equal footing with her- she always has the high ground.
I just wish I had a way in
some crack in her invincibility to explore
she's said that it's not due to the fact that I'm unworthy of that
but that she's at a contemplative, protected point in her life.
That she needs time to sort and evaluate.
But I've missed her by a day before...
I sometimes feel as if I have no time.
For reasons of my own bloated perception of my own mortality (let's face it- hit by trucks, multiple near lightning strikes, mysterious adolescent organ failure- somebody wants me dead), and my horrible sense of timing.
It doesn't help that I'm fully loaded with anticipation, a thousand things to say, a million things to ask, and an infinity of places I want to kiss.
If I could just settle down I could remain passionate, without the frenzied torment of a man completely strung up by his energetic heart.
If I could just pause...
If I could just make you smile in the most earnest sense.
I think I'd be fine.
