It’s funny how sometimes, you just expect things to happen a certain way. And then, when they do, although you may feel a bit disappointed, a bit taunted, you have this satisfaction of being so insightful. So ready. I suppose that is why I always seem so content. Why I always seem so confident and sometimes even cold. It is just easier to expect the least, than to set yourself up for disaster.

I am hard to read. I am a Simon and Garfunkel song. Come to think of it, I could be several.

I find it hard to be vague here. People always want to know. They aren’t satisfied with the words on the screen. They want the meaning behind them. They want more than a rant, they want to be inside. The truth is, my head is a difficult place to reside. Most of the time, what’s in there is a jumbled, wordy mess that never finds my fingertips or my lips. And sometimes, if and when it does, I need to leave it where it lies.

So tonight, I am content listening to the sadness of a dear friend’s soul. Constructed with my own ears.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "The Blowers Daughter"-Damien Rice