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we both belong to the words we've both fallen under
2006-04-24 @ 4:57 a.m.
Today, as I came home from San Diego, our plane lost pressure and we dropped to 9,000 feet. People got uptight, scared, and a few were crying. To steal a bit of words from Fight Club, but not SO many, "I felt as calm as a Hindu cow." I didn't put the mask on. When the plane of folks were calm and it hit me that we could have had a problem, I didn't feel a damned thing. No fear.
Now, I am in a great spot or one fucked up spot--I'm living life as though tomorrow might be the end.
I want to go to San Diego OR SOMEPLACE with a group of people and take on a new home and life. I want a fresh start. I am sick of starting over alone. I've not started over completely since 1998, and it's my desire to find SOMETHING out there.
I want friends like the 4 on Sex and the City. I want friends like Seinfeld's group. Or Friends. I want a group. I desire some unity that is fucking impossible. Anyone?
Fuck. I think I need the Lithium. I am going nuts or coming to.
I'm listening to my iPod realizing that every song was written about/for me....narcissistic or paranoid?OH. But I realized what my job should be. My calling. God, let the FBI or CIA be reading this. I have little to no fear when doing dangerous things. I don't "crack" or think about what I am doing until I'm out of the situation. Going blank. No thoughts. No worries. I should have been a hostage negotiator or go into buildings and get rid of the bombs/cut the right cable. Now, I must write in my other diary to write about all the topics that I no longer can write in here about. Pat Benatar's "We Belong" is on.
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