Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Sometimes I wish I could be that guy who breaks the big story. That guy who scrounges up the info first. Maybe post it in my blog or run to the phone and call the AP. I would even settle for being the second or third guy, just so long as when I told most of you that I was the first. Cause really I am a journalist at heart. But I'm not sure if there are many other journalists out there. Maybe someday I'll bring you the evening news right into your living room. Maybe someday I'll be hosting a show where different guests yell at eachother for an hour. Maybe someday I'll make a large room of people all laugh at the same time. Maybe someday I'll approach you on a corner with a cardboard sign and ask for a quarter. Because half of our choices are really just chance. And I can't worry to much about the future because there is little I can do. "don't worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying about the future is about as effective as trying to solve an algebra problem by chewing bubble gum." That's on a song by This Guy. And it really is just chance.

It's chance that I've made it this far. It's chance that the G2K is sleeping in the bedroom next to mine after we talked until 3 A.M. It's chance that she's still funny and maybe even more beautiful than I remember. It's chance that I ended up so far away form her. And It's chance that I know is going to bring us together again. Fuck you chance. Deep down this is how I wanted chance to bring me to her. But really I thought, wouldn't it be great if she was ugly and fat and annoying and outright detestable? Then we could get through the week and go our separate ways. But now I am scared to death. Scared because in 6 days her flight leaves. Sacred because I don't want to get to close. Just like everyone who knows heartbreak and has to keep scraping their heart off the floor. After it was tossed aside and trampled. But we all do it. We all pick it up and dust it off and shove it back in. And it's never the same. But that's the beauty of it. Sometimes it takes a little longer to start ticking again. Sometimes it never quite hits that pace it used to. Sometimes it barely lub-dub's along. But we keep it ticking anyways. And I know that when I wake up on Monday morning, it's going to feel. Like I trampled my own heart. And my back might hurt a little. But I'll still bend down and pick it up. Cause really, it's all just chance. And that's the way it is this Tuesday, July 13th. I'm The Truth Blogger. Thank you and goodnight.


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