Nothing else.

I'm in the type of mood where I would stay home and write piece after piece after piece if I could. Stay up all night, stay in all day, for however long it lasts. I just feel. Generally that sentence has an object, but today, I just feel. Feel everything. I could will myself to dig deep and feel everything I ignore 167 hours of the week. I could glaze over and feel nothing but the urge to feel.

I'm sentimental and withdrawn. I'm feeling like loving and still terrified of any commitment deeper than my skin. We're never alone, but we're never 100% relatable, either. On days like today, I listen to Brand New. I listen to Jack's Mannequin starting with Everything In Transit. The Mixed Tape to Hammers and Strings. Deja Entendu. Another Mixed Tape. No sweet jams or dancing. Head nods and thinking. You might like to dance and jump and fall and drink and sweat and sleep. I like thinking. I like all that other stuff too. Sometimes.

I'm paying attention to the way I type too much. I'm getting too used to the comfort of my personal blog. Could be that I'm losing the nerve I'm famous for writing with. I don't think so. I just have no one I need to call out, nothing I need to confess. Nothing I want to confess anyway. Nothing I should be thinking. No one I wouldn't turn down if they would have me. This isn't who you think it's for. You don't mean much to me, but I can't say you don't mean everything. And I thought I had nothing to confess.

This CD never gets old, and neither does feeling like this. Nothing hurts. I feel brave; maybe I should go for a drive and jump, not that anyone would ever believe me. Dear Monday, make me brave, okay?

Seventy Times Seven. Seven plus Seven equals two today, six for the next three days. Number soup. Last names like alphabet soup. It's a regular preschool paradise. Time to circle up and talk about our favorite animals. Remember when holding hands with strangers was so easy? On days like today I'm itching for everyone to just get along. I miss you even though I just saw you less than 24 hours ago. I'm prone to nostalgia; I promise it isn't contagious.