Don’t worry, this’ll all be interesting when I’m dead.

Can I just say that I hate Canada?!

They have all the great bands! And those great bands never play anywhere around here. Damn you, Canada! DAMN YOU!

Yipes!

Ok, I had my email settings wrong, because I never changed it to the right way, after it was fixed last week. Ok, so she did email me, and it’s a pretty legitimate excuse…

But I’m still concerned because there was no call and when I did finally talk to her she seemed very hesitant to talk to me.

What to do… what to do…

When was the last time someone caught you totally off-guard? Have you ever had the experience of playing kick-ball in the school yard, and as you turn around you see for one brief instant, this big, red ball about 3 inches from your nose. Oh yeah. It’s gonna hit you, there’s no way around it. Squinch your eyes, pirch your lips, and brace yourself. It’s burning your skin as it spins rapidly against the tip of your nose and impacting you with no more force than a baby’s punch would have, yet you’re on the concrete… crying your eyes out.

I was stood up tonight. I can’t say if I expected it or not. The other night ended wierd, but I figured it was a temporary bad mood. Apparently not. I sent directions and a email-greeting card. I left numerous messages explaining I will be hanging out after work until she arrives. I heard nothing.

Finally… I find out she’s at dinner and I’m still waiting. “I….I, uh.. I can’t,” she says… “I emailed you, didn’t you get it?” (no emails here)

Completely planned out stand-up. She didn’t seem like the type. What bugs me more is that this was absolutely out of the blue. No rhyme or reason for this!

I don’t get it, man… Recess is over. I’m going back to classroom and pout under my desk.

*mumbles* ………..stupid kick-ball……

Warning:

The following contains items that may be inadvertantly hurtful to certain people on this earth. Keep in mind, it’s my journal. ~~My Journal.~~ And you can choose to not read it.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to say… I just don’t have much of anything INTERESTING to say.

I’ve been trying to meet new women online. Most are nice, but most don’t have a personality.

I drove 50 miles the other night to meet a girl. We got a long pretty well. She’s cool. Her 10 year old brother adored me. I taught him a few chords on the guitar. I don’t know which chords, though… I don’t know how to play the guitar.

But… 50 miles! *sigh*

Yet still, I am fixated on the anonymous person in my recent blogs/lyrics. I’ll tell you why, too. It’s because I don’t have a chance in hell. And you always want something you *can’t have* over something that you *can*. Murphey’s Law no longer. Now it’s Coz’s Law.

I saw her today. She looked absolutely stunning. She took my breath away! I stuttered and said hi.

“What’s wrong with you?”, she said as she gave me a swift elbow to my kidneys.

Later on, I told her. She thanked me.

Forever Endeavor… that’s all I’ll say about that.

Damn, I want my own law, now.

If anyone has sent mail to coz@cozbaldwin.com in the past 2 months, please, please re-send it if possible! They were not reaching me and now that my email server has corrected the issue, the old stock of emails disappeared!

My apologies.

This doesn’t concern me much / this disease / this psudo crutch.

I don’t like the way / you’ve spoken to me / lately / with your tainted brush.

Let me be free, I say / with a handle / on what I’ve got coming to me.

Finally / I can come back down / and return to this reality.

Gripping on / to open air / with a frown upon my deperate face.

I can see now / what it was / that brought me to you in the first place.

The comforting feel / of a flesh-toned hand / grasping onto mine.

The relaxation / found within / a life that’s left me blind.

And I can’t see you anymore.

===================

I’m not sure exactly where that came from. I had nothing specific in mind, but I assume it’s something all can relate to at some point in their lives.

I must really get to bed, but I felt the need to write something. I guess that’s good. I’m finding the time to write more words…. now I just have to find the time to sit down and put some music to these things.

I’ve felt so antsy since being single. I just hate the feeling. It’s free-ing, but for me and all my issues, it just makes me very paranoid. Like… who am I going to meet next? How do I do that? Why can’t they meet me? What do I say? Am I wasting my time? Shouldn’t I do something? I feel so lonely. When’s it gonna end?

I’ll tell you when this blog ends. Now.

Goodnight.

Blasted did the horn sound

unleashing me from what’s kept me bound.

Sprung into action to meet you to greet you,

to see what you’ve got buried beneath you.

Got what I had coming to me.

Couldn’t let the beast go free.

Still residing anonomously spawning this analogy.

I’m still a stone in a glance and my heart does the dance

of a thousand men in harmony. Won’t you please be a part of me?

Please won’t you be a part of me?

I am sitting here, awaiting my return.

A triumphant horn to sooth my burns.

A sound that bears the meaning of bliss,

I feel I’m far too old for this.

Listen for your beckoning.

Hoping for, but reckoning

nothing more than seconding your emotions.

I am a stone in a glance and my heart does the dance

of a thousand men in harmony. Won’t you please be a part of me?

Please be a part of me.

Johanna’s site is basically all done. It’s now up to her to fill in the blanks.

I’ve been working on it for at least 5 hours tonight… meanwhile she’s over at her place, hanging out with some guy.

Yes! I feel good.

It’s as though I am ignorant; like I have no right to make a decision — and NOT have it be questioned.

It’s so hard… so hard to cry. If I could let the tears flow everytime, I would. But they’re plugged by shame and various other self-made illusions.

So why is it, that whenever I gain the strength to actually let go, I am ignored? I become a bother. What do they want from me? Constant entertainment? Constant happiness (that is synthetic nonetheless)? Contant praise, criticism and/or abuse? Constant love or hate?

It’s not in me. I don’t feel them. I just feel sadness and I need to have someone that embraces me and lets me cry, and doesn’t push me away or demean my tears. They’re more real than any other tear you’ve been dampened with before.

I wish I had the courage to emrace myself at times. I tried, but that backfired on me. Left me with no one. Can’t I be honest without being questioned? Can’t I be real without being criticized? I’ve begun to think not. I wish I had the courage to do or say what I wanted to. Today, I had a wonderful oppertunity to but I couldn’t bring myself up to the challenge.

I could relate to the conversationalist’s words. I could understand. And I wonder how often she hears that and how much it means, if anything.

I should stop telling people that I know in my life that I have a public journal. I’m sure it’s caused me losses I never got to know were gains. I’m hoping this will not be one of them.