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Friday. 10.25.13 3:41 pm
I'm in tears, because I finally got up the nerve to return the call of this adorable guy I met, last night...and it went to voicemail. Which, okay, fine, I can leave a voicemail, so I start doing that, and my call waiting starts going off because he's calling.

I go to answer it and end the current call AND HE HANGS UP.


We're running this crazy late-night bake sale, and it's around midnight or maybe one in the morning when this super cute guy walks past. So, of course, I go into aggressive mode and compliment him on how he's dressed, for which he thanks me and keeps walking right on past the table. But, the thank you was sincere, and all was well.

A few minutes later, he returns. He tells us that he changed his mind--that he'd like to buy something...but only if it came with my phone number.

At this point, I'm not playing around. The last time I was interested in someone before realizing they were interested in me was several years ago.



Eight hours later and I'm just getting home. On our walk back, we celebrated our 24th hour knowing each other, and all of it...man, what a weird day.

What a weird, awesome day.

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Tuesday. 10.22.13 10:07 pm
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Tuesday. 10.8.13 4:22 pm
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l'appel du vide
Wednesday. 10.2.13 9:06 pm
We're in a metro station, talking about The Void.

"You know, when you're driving, and you think about swerving into the other lane? Everyone has that, to some degree, right? It's exciting to think that you could just do it." He gestures to the train tracks in front of him.

Some of us say no, laughing, but it's obvious that, to some extent, they do. Thoughts like that are incredibly common. Why? Human stuff. Brain stuff. Mortality stuff. Existence stuff.

I stand more quietly towards the benches, as they scoot forward and back, over and over again, towards the edge of the platform, glancing over like puppies that aren't sure about something. I'm thinking about how the fear of my own thoughts tends to outweigh the desire to draw closer to The Void. I think about how the balance between excitement of The Void and the fear that comes from hearing your own urges essentially determines the lifespan of some.

In Ireland--so long ago, eleven years--we visited the cliffs of Moher. I remember that day very clearly, because my mother was hungover from mixing mead with wine, the night before, and it was a cold, windy day--so windy that my ten-year-old self had to hang on to my dad's arm to stay upright. At the head of the cliff, there were signs driven into the ground warning tourists to stay away from the edge--good advice, especially on windy days when a gust could take you straight over and into the ocean below--and my dad joked that they were put up for Germans because they were egotistical enough to stroll straight to the fringes of solid ground. I clung to him, teeth chattering, unwilling to close any of the gap, myself.

Even back then, at ten years old, I knew that my terror outweighed my excitement by a long shot. And, sometimes, that's a great thing. When you're staring at the vast ocean beyond a cliff's end, and down onto the rocky fate that awaits any who draw too near, the terror is a wonderful, preservative reflex.

--But when I watch one of them, later, jumping and singing along with his favorite band in the pouring rain, and see that candy-sweet joy and abandon, I wonder if The Void shouldn't beckon me just a bit more.

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