Several issues

It's just hard to write something worthwhile sometimes. Not for you, you know. You really are a second rate player on the "is it worth putting down" question. For me. I'm trying, but lately there's a lot of crap that I could write, but that I probably have (definitely have) already written, and the bar's pretty low sometimes you know, so even I have reached a limit, of a kind. This can't just be a diary of the crap that goes on from day to day. Robert Kroetsch said, in class one day, that what made a journal interesting was the gaps. The days that were missed. Why were they missed? What about the days that follow a long silence? They better be good right? Don't you think? I'm sure that they're nothing special either though. 

Anyway, don't expect consistency these days. I'm about to head out to pick up M after about 6 days of absence. And yes, that makes me happy. I had a steak and a strong beer to celebrate the incoming company. It's time. I get it already. I like being alone, but I like being alone knowing that I won't be alone for a long time. I'm fickle. I'm not satisfied. I'm easily distracted. I'm looking forward to M's return but I'm still not sure that once we're back together I won't still be unsettled. I don't like this, but  it is what it is. Right now the idea of being back together makes me happy. I'm looking forward to it. I hope I don't screw that up when we meet again. At the airport. I'll have flowers. Could it be more cliched? I hope not. Cliches have a point you know. It's a kind of weight of evidence. There has to be a  helluva-alot of right going on for something to end up as a cliche. So I'm hedging my bets with the rightness of it. Flowers. That's right! Three daisies. She loves me ...