this morning is the second in a row of mornings where i wake at 6am. i do not plan such things, but the child upstairs has taken to jumping off of the bed onto the floor at 6am -- or as i imagine tripping and falling and smacking off of the hardwood floors more than enough to become quite bruised and bloody�pulpy and swollen. but these are just unfortunate fantasies of a very tired grrlie who normally has problems sleeping, let alone when the little beast upstairs is about.

this has never been a problem before this week, and the insertion of earplugs early on this morning made it much more bearable�although yesterday i did so enjoy the seething hate flowing through me. nothing like a little poison to start up ones day�

(i tried to think of some poison lyrics to stick in here, but i fear only gunznrozes or something came to mind. ah, highschool, what a fucking trap.)

yesterday i gave thepope a fun haircut�*smile* funny that at first i was offered not only booze or money for payment, but oralsex as well�heh. (i think he was kidding)�but then again, he had no clue about bootyboi.

how could anyone not know?

heh. was nice to get a little, flirty compliment though�not that it really meant anything. silly semi-prophetic dreams that i have (i did not find out about the giving the haircut thing until after the dream�ha!)

bjork: i know the future�!

and every time i cut/dye someone�s hair i am envious�

my fingers and comb so pain-stak-ing-ly placed, the scissors sharp and swift.

no one will cut my hair.

sither has cut my hair in the past, years ago�and amalthea and such have helped me dye it. but cutting? i have curly curly hair, you see�little red and black ringlets, longer in the front (to shoulders) shorter in the back. not a hard cut, really -- i have done it for myself for years. curly hair does not have to be cut as precise as straight hair, you see, it goes where it likes�and curls up in a varied way. when i ask them to cut it i always get the same response, the same terrified, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

tee hee hee.

time is so very important, you know�and an afternoon of massage, spending that extra time wrapping, the writing or drawing from the self�unselfish acts. these things are beautiful and rare.

these things make me smile above all else

but these things also get one burned in the end�i�ll never forget, after all, that mix tape never listened to � song explanations so carefully written (i wonder if he listened to it after i broke his heart?)�that piece of artwork given that sits at the bottom of a box, in a drawer�dusty, lost and forgotten.

*shrug*

i just helped a convicted murderer find geographical information for his master�s thesis�which he has to hurry and finish now because of lost time in prison. he told me the whole story because i am so nice and i guess he thought i cared. i was just doing my job, happily giving reference instruction.

�i did not ask him about it�nope. not me.

last night such a feeling of love/content to go to sleep to. i slept on TT's pillow, snuggled my nose and face into his scent. i think thoughts such as if he dies, i�ll never wash our sexy sheets again. pleh. --(fun to have them, the anxious thoughts, turn from when we break up to if he dies though.)-- silly me.

and i miss him, my knight, my casanova, my cowboy, my sailor, my businessman, my matt-ador� my darling.

my, my, my�
tisk tisk
la la la�
hmmm?