My brother and I were walking the dogs today.
I forget how the topic came about, but I ended up asking how it happened that red became the colour that symbolized both anger and love.
He replied with, 'maybe anger and love often come hand in hand.'
It's interesting he should say that.
Remind you of anything, Kelsk?
On another note, I'm getting more restless as the days go on. I need an adventure. And not necessarily that adventure in my most recent of stories. Just an adventure in general. Something to get me out of the house.
I'm also in love in the Mid-evil times. In case anybody is at all interested in that.
I also love Feste, Sir Robin, and minstrels.
Sir Robin is more of an 'in theory' love. I love him because it's funny. But, I'm sorry Robin dearest, it could never work between us. My occasional need for adventure and your...well, it just wouldn't work.
Do you think I could be a pirate, only with vodka instead of rum?
As for Feste, his is a cross between real love and the love of a role model.
I've been thinking about what Andrew said, about life being a fine balance. I'm not sure if I've had that all along, and whether I'll screw it up trying to get to where I already am...
I'll figure it all out sometime.
For right now, I'd be content with figuring one thing out. Hopefully sooner, rather than later, for my own sanity more than anything else. Is it time to take things into my own hands? I'm kind of afraid it is. I've never really been good at that. Maybe I'll attempt to get the ball rolling, and hope that after that it just continues rolling gently down the hill until everything's sorted out.
Hopefully the ball will not get caught on a rock shortly after being pushed down said hill and deflates, nor will it gather speed until it spins wildly out of control and is forever lost to all humanity.
Anyone wanna place any bets?
And Rae, I've been meaning to ask you on an update on this since I've gotten back from camp: have I lost money?
Yet another reason we have to get together. Seriously. =)
I love you.
All of you.
"Bravely bold Sir Robin
Rode forth from Camelot.
He was not afraid to die,
Oh brave Sir Robin.
He was not at all afraid
To be killed in nasty ways.
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin.
He was not in the least bit scared
To be mashed into a pulp.
Or to have his eyes gouged out,
And his elbows broken.
To have his kneecaps split
And his body burned away,
And his limbs all hacked and mangled
Brave Sir Robin.
His head smashed in
And his heart cut out
And his liver removed
And his bowls unplugged
And his nostrils raped
And his bottom burnt off
And his penis split
"That's...that's enough music for now, lads."
Brave Sir Robin ran away.
Bravely ran away away.
When danger reared it's ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled.
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about
And gallantly he chickened out.
Bravely taking ("I never did!") to his feet,
He beat a very brave retreat.
Bravest of the braaaave, Sir Robin!
1 week ago