FunkyPlaid and I went shopping and visiting last night. I was a bit morose when I got into his car after work, and had a difficult time talking about that because I knew I was going to get weepy as soon as I did. The strangest feeling in the world is not being able to control my own tears. I attempt to exercise control over my body in that way, and it just never works. At any rate, I did end up talking about what was upsetting me, and soon felt much better, after some good, kind words … and retail therapy.

So now I own not only an iSight (did you get the pun yet? I just did last night) but just about everything hemp possible from The Body Shop. I rule!

After shopping, we had a spaghetti dinner and then went to visit his friends. They have a lovely little house and sweet pets and a new baby. I felt immediately welcome and comfortable around them all, and it made me yearn a bit for a cozy space slightly larger than my current one. The big collie licked and nibbled at my face when I crouched down to pet her. She smelled like shampoo and her coat was long and glossy. I also held the new baby, and he grabbed fistfuls of my hair and bobbed his head while watching everyone intently. Conversation flowed around me and I felt connected to human beings, and suffused with calm.

On the way home, I watched the moonlight on the water and wondered how to stave off tears when it seems they’re all I’m made of. Tears of joy, of regret and of loneliness, of ecstasy and of despair; I am a quilt of tears. They won’t stop; why should they stop? My tears are my words when words will not suffice.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.