The rest of us.

Festivus and Christmas are just a pinch of days away, I suppose.

Well, Festivus is tomorrow, and Christmas is on Friday, and I'm only hoping by then my room would be surrounded by pictures and posters clipped out of Kindling and flaunting their beautiful selves against my ugliness.

I contacted the guy who sold me XOXO (the same guy whom I attempted to invite to church but never made it to an unfortunate degree), and maybe it was some other guy who responded, but either one of them said they didn't sell any copies of Kindling yet, and I'm only trying to hold myself and be patient about it.

Which, if you did not notice, is the hardest thing for me to do.

--

Last Sunday, there was a party among the church and many of us were dancing, were singing, were laughing, all in 19th century-esque uniforms and gowns and scarves and Kings & Queens was playing in my head the entire night.

I guess I lost a lot of respect the same night also, as caterers kept calling me, "Sir," and women in the bathroom would always chatter after I retreat from the commode, and one snooty girl raised an eyebrow and turned her head from me, raising it at a proud angle--which ticked me off, if she hadn't noticed.

I'd like to fry her eyebrows off, that's what I'd like to do.

...easy Ally, serenity now, serenity now.

I've got to control my emotions somehow. I know the mantra of Frank Costanza's soul-reliving process does not work, and only "HOOCHIE MAMAAA!" will save the day, but only guys demonstrated the Serenity Now chant.

When it's for a girl, it seems like a whole different thing--completely washes it all away.

...okay, maybe not completely, but close enough.

Serenity now.

Speaking of control over emotions, I have to find a barrier of control over how I speak towards people.

I become unfortunately rude to waitresses and treat waiters and male employees with respect, but even with girls I know, I have to watch my tongue.

Oh, don't think it means anything suggestive, heck no! It's just that I have to curb my enthusiasm a bit, lessen the sarcasm, curb the enthusiasm.

...hey I like that.

Lessen the sarcasm, curb the enthusiasm.

Yeah, I really, really like that.

And I also think I need to work on how to speak to people I quite highly admire.

Actually, it depends on the way they speak that I find out ways on how to speak to them whom I admire.

Such as, if I were talking to... let's say Jackie Earle Haley. Nice guy, sweet guy, gentle and yet clean-voiced guy, speaks not necessarily like a man, but he's a very cool guy.

If I were to talk to him, I wouldn't go nuts. I'd have the most normal and calm and collected of conversations with such a guy.

If, however, I were to talk to Vasilis Lolos--Grecian guy, awesome guy, gutsy, swears up a storm, fired up kind of dude--I'd spazz out, he'd spazz out, we'd look like a couple of idiots, and probably the most enjoyable conversation I could make with any dude for that matter.

But if it were me conversing with James Jean, Mr. Certain Somebody, and probably even V,

I would completely fly out of my own skin.

I'd be like a zombie, only with all my teeth intact and my inner sense of assurance kicked out.

Even Bob the crocodile would flip out and drop into a splat--and he's my katra. My inner conscience is in the hands of a 5'4 black crocodile with white pointed triangles for teeth and a great love for coffee.

But Bob's a great katra, of course. The best of the best. I wouldn't have any other katra if Bob were gone, really. He may not really exist, and may or may not as a katra exist, but either way he's my best friend, the only friend I know inside and out, the only friend I could really open up to and be fully honest to and I can be with all the time.

Like an imaginary friend, but I know for a fact that he is real.

Because he is Bob the crocodile.

And to me, Bob the crocodile is real.

--

One last note.

I think I really have found someone I really love.

Someone whom I feel has really been meant for me, one perfect angel for whom I was put on this earth for, and he the same. The winsome tulip whom I ceaselessly yearn for through the mundane minutiae of life as I know it.

A reason for why the birds fly and sing, the miracle that airbrushed the line dividing Heaven and earth.

I believe to have found my angel.

What I am confident about in this realization though,

is that he may never ever know.