Early morning

I can't sleep.
Hmph.

I have no set topic in mind, I just tend to feel that when the body tells me I need to be awake it's probably because I should be writing or drawing or doing something other than watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the second time through. (Ryan hasn't seen it okay? And I haven't seen it with the corresponding Angel episodes, okay? Stop judging me.)

Sigh.

I've been looking through old pictures of mine. They are troubling me. It seems I used to be the kind of person who on occasion would make marvelous things happen. Small wacky events just to pass the time and people would listen and follow and we'd be happy and silly and all the sudden boys would sprout pigtails and we'd scream and laugh and in general be merry. Or I'd crawl all over a hotel blissed out on a new friendship tossing rose petals as I went. I'd encourage everyone to play tag in a thunderstorm.

I just began to cringe... What is that? Where does this snide bitch come from? It's like I got my adolescent fear of the uncool late. I've never worried much about what other people think, but apparently me at 24 is the social dominatrix I never had. She unleashes her whip consistently, so that I have a perpetual lesion across my chest that is a burning reminder not to disappoint her. But the fact of the matter is what most power-hungry mistresses in cheesy acrylic thigh-boots and ridiculously revealing leather corsets really desire is a badly behaved subject. Me at 24 is no different, and so she is constantly disappointed in me for not acting up, for not encouraging more kite-flying or costume-wearing so she can inflict a little more "discipline." I am too well behaved for her. She's bored. Which is why she enjoys it best when I am drunk. She'll even place a razor sharp press-on nail beneath the glass to ensure every last drop goes down. It works and I go all marvelous, dancing down streets, executing costume changes, making certain everyone gets a good splash of water on their face... In the morning she surveys her prodigal daughter with a half-cocked smile, whips out the duct tape and cattle-prod and goes to town. I don't let her tip the glass very often, I've grown wise to her efforts.

Extended metaphors aside, one of these days I'm going to overcome the shy and on that day watch out because there will be a worldwide game of Red Rover that won't stop till everyone's on my side.