It has been almost two months since I've written here. Everytime I log in there's a faint buzzing in the back of my brain telling me that I must step up, must contribute, mustn't write nothing but logs. Yet here I am writing another one.

I guess you could call this place my personal confession box. I've never been religious (except sunday school when I was six years old), but this reminds me of those parts in a movie where the main character finds himself sitting in an unlit wooden church booth, with the glinting eyes and slow breathing of an older man sifting through the dark metal grated window. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned," the younger man says in a low, mumbling voice, and continues on to explain what those sins are.

Perhaps I haven't sinned, but there's that same feeling of sudden awareness that comes when you have the right audience. It's knowing you can't bullshit them because whatever honesty is there will leak out between the cracks of all the lies you try to tell.

So what is my confession today, you're wondering? I'm not entirely sure of that myself. Today I found myself literally jumping up and down with excitement after staff members of two separate food-based websites contacted me asking to link up with my food blog. I know some people may ridicule blogging, but this is my platform I'm working on here and the idea of it actually being good is freaking me out. In fact it is freaking me out so much that I'm procrastinating responding or doing anything about these opportunities. Am I really that good? What will happen if I become successful? Could my dreams really come true? Am I seriously on the right track for once in my life?

I don't know what to do so I pace across my apartment hardwood flooring until the phone rings with a strange number. It's him. We met up two weeks ago for the first time in years, and he's calling me again wanting to stop by. Some things never change. Other things do change. It's different now. We ask questions as we get to know each other in ways we never have before. He draws pictures of swords on my skin. He remembers the name of my hometown. Quick kisses for no reason, my cheek resting against his chin as we talk. I lay on my back looking up at him, his unsmiling face looking down on mine in such complete seriousness for so long it makes me feel nervous, not knowing what he's thinking.

He leaves afterwards. My body is still tingling. I wonder if I should have told him about my writing. I pace the floors again, wondering how badly my heart will be broken.

Abraham is big, for a fourteen year old. He's about five foot eight, and he's as strong as a bull elephant, incredibly determined (you get in his way, and he'll just plow you over. Literally), and cleverer than most people give him credit for.

He's also severely autistic.

Almost every Sunday, his two older sisters pull him through the learning center lobby and into the Through the Roof class. Sometimes, he goes in without any problems. Other times, he shakes them off and runs into the staff room to get snacks, or into one of the other classrooms. Usually, he makes a run for freedom and tries to go outside, his sisters and a teacher trailing helplessly behind him while he cackles madly.

Rick is a regular who drops off his daughter every week. He's a large man- not fat-large, but large-large. Like someone took a regular person, and stretched them out so all the proportions were normal, just an extra foot in each direction. He actually works as a security-caretaker-person at a school for special kids, meaning when Abraham does make a break for it, Rick's usually the closest guy on hand to catch him before he makes it to the door.

Abraham seems to think this is great fun. He never gets upset when he's caught, he just giggles and wriggles and then goes to class.

Today was a running day. Abraham got in, and got out. Not only did he manage to get past his sisters and past all of us in the lobby, but he got outside and was just about to run into the very busy parking lot when Rick, who'd just got done checking it his daughter, grabbed him and picked him up.

I watched from inside as a man passing by got really upset. He started arguing with Rick while Abraham kept wriggling. I seriously thought the man would hit him. Then Abraham's sisters went out there, as did Pastor Karl. They all started talking, and eventually the man left for service, and Rick and the girls brought Abraham inside.

When the girls came out (Rick had taken the back way out, as it was closer to the main sanctuary building), I asked them:

Zeph: What happened?
Analise: He got upset at Rick for grabbing Abraham.
Zeph: Yeah, but why?
Analise: *shrug* 'Cause we're black.
Zeph: lolwut?

But then a rush of people wanting to check their kids in flooded in and the girls were gone before I could more thoroughly ask, 'lolwut'. I waited until the check-in rush was over before going into the staff room to try and suss out what had happened.

I didn't even have to ask, Pastor Karl was there, telling the workers what had happened.

Cynthia: Well what did he think happened?
Karl: I don't know. All he saw was a big white guy tackling Abraham. I guess he thought something fishy was going on. I had to go and explain, and he didn't believe me until Naomi and Ana came out. This was his first time at the church, too.
Cynthia: Oooh. Probably not a good first impression. . .
Karl: No, I'd say not.

. . .

So. That happened.

This next one actually happened a while ago, but I found the paper I'd written it on and had to share it. The lightning fast delivery was what got me. I need to get these two into a room together more often.

After a particularly tangled conversation in class:

Mahmoud: Why do 95% of our conversations end in the Kennedy assassination?
Wes: What else is there to talk about, really?
Mahmoud:: Batman killed Kennedy.
Zeph: No, it was the Joker. Batman tried to stop him but fouled it up.
Mahmoud: No, Kennedy was the Joker.
Zeph: Suicide.
Wes: Don Knotts is the Batman.
Zeph: What?
Wes: Well have you ever seen them in the same place together?
Zeph: Of course! It makes so much sense now! Wait, I've never seen you and Batman in the same place either.
Wes: Well clearly I am Don Knotts.

To which I bow my head because- really. What more can you say to that?

In more personal-ish news: my bestie's dog chewed up my phone charger. They don't make the kind I have anymore, so I get to get a new phone.

See, I'm under my dad's plan, thing. A long time ago, back when I was but a humble fifteen year old, the courts ordered my dad to get us all cellphones due to some custody issues. Due to some finagling with loopholes, he's got us all under his work's thing where our plans aren't catching him out of pocket, meaning even though I'm an adult, he's still being nice and covering my phone plan.

Now, I offered to pay for the new phone, and even start up my own phone plan thing (if someone would, you know. Tell me how), but he wouldn't hear of it. He's insisting on getting me a nice one, even though I told him any old cheapo would be fine.

Zeph: I don't get it.
ZephMom: He's feeling guilty.
Zeph: Lolwut?
ZephMom: He's going through another midlife crisis and is feeling guilty about not spending any time with you.
Zeph: I repeat: lolwut? He never bothered before-
Zephmom: Exactly. Now he's trying to make it up to you.
Zeph: I. . . don't think it works like that . . .
ZephMom: It is what it is. Go fishing with the guy or something, and come check out the new parakeets!

So I let the subject drop and went to inspect the batch of parakeets we got from a breeder friend who's giving up birds (Again. This is his third time. He swears this time, he's just going to stick to raising chickens. We don't really believe him). There are some real pretty ones in there, and they all seem to be mingling with the cockatiels and lovebirds well. (Though this one yellow guy has taken to playing with the crests on top of the cockatiels' heads. It's adorable, but the cockatiels don't appreciate it).

So, again: that's happening.
I'm pretty sure my life (and perhaps most life in general) is just a series of random 'well, that's happening' moments that will continue happening until the day they quite suddenly stop happening.

Also, my Nodeversary is on the 27th. Which actually came by too quickly: I was hoping to have made it to 100 WU's before then. Dang.

It doesn't feel like that long, which is pretty cool. Normally I'm really. . . flaky, about sites. I hop around from place to place, quickly lose interest, then hop onto something else. So, kudos, E2, for managing to keep my interest for an entire year. :D

Here's to (hopefully) another good one, all.

I feel like I'm posting a lot of logs lately. I should stop that.

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