soyez très très prudent
I don't really got a lot to say at the moment.. or rather.. got a lot, but no time tonight or inclination to put it all down the way I want to. I had this very lovely conversation with a few people the other day about a general but pretty important topic that's been on my mind a lot (and always is), but I'll post about that later - it'll probably be one of those super long ones.

I was pretty glad to get a chance to really dig into something with other people for once... like... you can enjoy the superficial and the fun for so long, but sometimes all you really wanna do is say exactly what's on your mind, and have someone around who knows what it is you're saying - and reciprocate. I don't really need it, but I enjoy it very much when the stray contact like that runs across your doorway and stops for a second.

Not really sure what I wanna say here... but then, not really sure either if it's too important. This past week I've oddly been switching up the dreams between ones of dying (oh yes, sweetness) and other ones in which past familiar faces appear in huge jumbled mashes of purpose and story. I'm (apparently) getting more and more appearances from old friends like high school era souls in them at times, I have no idea why - perhaps old attachments, and my own mind reaching out in dreams?

I've had the same kinds of cameos from the same groups of people for years ever since '01 (sometimes once a year, sometimes more), and leaving those days behind... it typically is one or two people who recur, however. I always consider those dreams to be simple manifestations of missing like.. say, people who're on the level of friends you'd have a true lifelong bond with, and my head simply grabs and plucks those images out from the time and stuffs them into the dream.

The friends that pop up weren't really that type (though they were good/close friends), yet no matter years later every so often they appear and I'm reminded quickly of how very much it is we've all changed in the time since those days.

-

I got my pocket picked the other day. It was my own carelessness: one, I actually took my wallet into a gym facility, which is a big no-no even with lockers available - two, I actually forgot to make sure the lock clicked on the door with my stuff. It was only twenty dollars luckily, but I'm killing all my cards that are still in my possession instantly and having new numbers set up. (in case they wrote down the card #s and simply left them, though I don't expect that - but always watch out for what you don't usually, right?)

How lame.

It's actually funny in a way, as retarded as the fact is - not the loss of the twenty dollars, but the absurdity behind a petty theft like that. I found my pants laying on the bench tossed there after having been rifled through... cell phone, keys, a random pair of clean socks in the cargo pocket, loose quarters, a cheap silver men's band, all these survive, after the interested party had searched and, in the end, found.

Despite its minorness, I felt something similar (in the sense of it, not the scope) to that much larger twinge that some people get when they lose something, or someone does something to them, and it's their first taste of it--say that another person might break into their house and invade their living space, or any manner or brand of intrusion that exists under the sun... not really my first taste of it, or my first taste of being an intruder in other senses, but it's been a while and it was strange to be reminded of the fact out of the blue.

--

busy.. I'll just post this right now, someone's grabbing my attention on aim.

I discovered this cute music video while putting together a mix cd for someone the other day, so here's a look at something quirky from Feist. From youtube to you, mushaboom:



(I also have no icons... which is ok! I'm trashing some old stuff and looking for new non-crappy better fitting ones!)