would you rather...

be peeled to death with a potato peeler or wake up next to a cannibal (on an island full of cannibals)?

(p.s. should you get caught on the island, you are eaten alive.)

wow, a woman

this is the conversation that annoys a man, frustrates a woman, generally confuses both and is finally reaching clarity for me:

here, i'll admit it: i love women.  so many of them. i like the mere concept of the female. my eyes are opened (constantly) at this feline who inhibits emotions so generously even if she can't pronounce them eloquently. wears vitality on her chest and when she senses another feline's awareness of these feelings she shuts the observer out (publicly, but you bet nonverbally at first)! swiftly finds the others' faults! how dare she tune herself into my sensitivities! intruder! she must be threatened by me! she must be a copy-cat! what does she know about assertion!? and where is her intellect?!

it isn't that we despise each other,  we dispose each others potential. and prematurely, we are able to dismiss the other for unwarranted reasons. i do not see a fault in the exploration of another woman's philosophies. no matter how secretive or selective she is, we, as a whole, are master linguists in her basic needs and her most complex desires/aspirations. where is the fault in acknowledging your immense spirit? what is so intrusive about earnest responsiveness? be intuitive, yes, because it is the sole accessory of your fervor, an extension of the collective experiences that have carved you a woman. but be tame, cultivate your senses until they are trained to respectfully oblige the invitation of friendship.

i am an avid believer in your eagerness to live. i hold my hands out, waving them hysterically each time you've discerned your life in risks and conquered them, friend. i am inspired by your breath and your voice. and trust that it is okay if we seem meek, our mild hands grasp tediously but not without severity. i follow your movements, and to your credit, am not embarrassed by it.

a metaphorical muscle

i've decided that i express myself more fluently through youtube videos than my fragmented sentences. tongue in cheek is more evident visually than the quantity of my exclamation marks, but really; i will use this new talent until i have biceps worth of material i can explain via snippets and content.
here is how i feel today, thank you, past: 

i like

Recently, as I was declothing the hangers of my closet, Colin was in the kitchen washing dishes. Alongside our tasks, we were listening to radio lab, laughing together from our separated walls. The topic was "falling," covering the physical action and uncovering the metaphorical expression and all of the etc-era's in between.  

There was a point in New York, where cats simply could not keep their bodies inside of the buildings. You would think that this would be a feline disaster with as many as 4 instances a day (over time, this could become an animal clinic's worst nightmare!). Notably no, these little acrobats are able to fall out of a 42 story building without a worry. Okay, there was one case, where the clumsy cat chipped its tooth. There is something about a cat, realizing in its fall that it must turn into a certain position somewhere between the 9th and the 5th floor, relaxing and- this is seriously the answer- belly flopping onto the ground.

mild conviction:

went to watch arianna huffington speak on sleep, side tracked.