(no subject)

Awesome things happen when you have insomnia. Namely that I'm sitting here at my desk when I realize I need my pen that is sitting on the table in the living room. Now, my chair has rolly wheels on it. My floor is tile. My sunglasses were sitting right here on the desk. If you have seen Once A Thief (or just my Mac vid) you know what happens next.

That's right. I did put on my sunglasses, push off, and roll across the room to the table while shooting my finger gun of awesome. And then I did it again on the way back. And then I was sad because I had my pen and no excuse to do it again. At which point I realized that I am an adult and if I wanna go sliding across my floor in my chair while wearing sunglasses and shooting communists without even the bare excuse of getting a pen? Who's gonna stop me. No one. Although the dogs do now think I am insane.

It is kind of funny. When I was in my 20s I would not have been caught dead, even by myself alone, doing such a thing. But the older I get, the more ridiculous it seems to cut myself off from avenues of silly fun in the name of being a grown up. Fuck that. Every now and then the imaginary communists are asking for it and your sunglasses are sitting right there.

(no subject)

Argh. It is frustrating to see the Headstones add concert dates and know I can't go. Even if I could afford it, the combination of noise, crowds, and having to stand for extended periods of time would make it difficult and not as fun in practice as it is in my head. And, to be honest, I wouldn't get out of it what I'd want to.

Which is in some alternate universe to be able to say to Hugh Dillon, you are my hero. Your story helped me believe in second chances that were real and not some fluffy 'inspirational' bullshit. That being fucked up doesn't mean your life is over. It was your music I listened to every morning before chemo to gear up for it, and I don't know if I would have gotten through it without that. That my life has been infinitely more entertaining with you to watch in your various projects, and just knowing that kind of talent exists in the world makes me happy.

I never could say any of that, or the other million reasons why I fangirl the shit out of that man, even if he was standing right in front of me. I mean, even if I wouldn't automatically either freeze up entirely or run away in a blind panic. The reality is that the deeply personal connection is entirely one sided, as it should be. I don't really know him, and he really doesn't know me. That doesn't make it not real, but it's not something we really share except in the broader sense of audience/entertainer.

And that's not only okay, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't work if it wasn't that way. Just, sometimes you wish there was some way the object of fangirling knew just how important they have been to you personally. I mean, without the involvement of lawyers and restraining orders.

Wow...this whole post is kinda creepy isn't it? Fuck it. Imma go crank up my Headstones/Hugh Dillon playlist in iTunes and rock the fuck out. 'Cause that always makes me feel better, and isn't that the point?