It's late, and so I write

Figures. I ruined my own evening. I said in the last post that I would probably write some sort of introduction in the next few days. Maybe my mind was so preoccupied with the promise of writing more, that I couldn't sleep. Maybe I shouldn't have had so much sugar today (by way of my mom's wine coolers). Or maybe I smoked too many menthols (it always keeps me awake when I do). And so, in the mean time, no matter the reason - here I am. Writing into a cosmos that even on its best days doesn't really pay attention. Trying to get the worst things out of me and make the good parts seem as shiny as they once were.

And so, by way of introduction. Hello. I know fairies don't normally speak. I don't know for sure if they can type. Though, I've never been one to keep much store by the rules anyway.

Ah, relief. My mom just awoke long enough to change the channel. No more moonriver playing lonely through the house. The trailer. It's dark here tonight, normally there's at least one light on or always a lot of people bustling around. I suppose things change in five years though. My brother has his own family, his own home to make now. My parents are getting ready to migrate south. Not for the winter, but for good. Rural Nowhere in the north will no longer be our home base. My hometown will be wiped from facebook and myspace and the like with a simple phone call letting me know that they have safely arrived with all of their moving trucks in a new town, new state, new home to make of their own. I think I've done an all right job of doing the same. I have friends and a sort of odd urban family of my own in Washington. We have a Christmas tree, and every so often have people over for dinner.

I'm not making much sense, and still haven't really said much in any sort of introduction. I am a confused person. Pocket-sized. Head strong (to a fault most of the time). I tend to ramble, and foist my own problems onto characters that I write. They all tend to ramble, too. I love books. I spend too much money on books. Especially old books. I used to travel a lot, and just don't anymore; I'm not sure why that is. Some people call living a "normal" life settling down, or growing up. I think of it as giving up, when we just get too tired to fight against the grain anymore. I feel as if I am nearing that point myself, and that terrifies me more than anything else. I'm obsessed with Rainer Maria Rilke. And most probably falling in love with a man whom I should not think of at all.

And so I'll leave you here, hopefully to finally find sleep, and find myself somewhere I truly want to be more than anywhere else right now.

Falling Stars -- Rainer Marie Rilke

Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes — do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.