Twoday at the Fair

I just came back from the fair. I'm in a fatigued/overstimulated/deep-fried brain condition.

My friends and I walked a lot, talked a lot, joked a lot, and sat a bit. We only ate once between the hours of 1 and 11. I had a calzone; everyone else gobbled down ginormous slabs of turkey leg and meat on a stick.

Today I learned that I deeply value dependability. My ride almost stranded me miles away from home. Reliability is important to me, and will continue to stay important in my life until I die. I don't trust people who repeatedly fall behind their words.

Actions do not simply speak louder than words; they shout, jump, scream, leap, hiss, clap, spank; they punch out your cousin; they save your ass from a burning building. Words are thoughts full of hot air.

Another one

I wish there was no doubt. I wish I knew exactly what I loved. I wish I knew lots of authors and read lots of books so that I, too, could throw ambiguous names out in conversation.

I wish I wasn't so bad at meeting new people. I wish I was more charismatic and charming, someone more gregarious and someone people feel comfortable around.

I wish my hair didn't smell right now. I wish I didn't feel sick; I wish I was sick, so at least I know why I feel sick. I wish I would go to bed.

I wish I wasn't so concerned. I wish I was more patient, kind, sensitive to my family, to my friends, to strangers. I wish for greatness, fame, glory, praise, reverence, honor. I wish I could be great for myself, by myself. I wish I could move and touch people. I want to connect. I wish for a great life.

(correction: it doesn't bother me that my hair smells)