ten hours with friends

i told carl that i loved the way hannah (my four year old cousin) looked at me. she looks at me like i am cool, amazing. her face falls when i have to leave or she has to go home. she wants my attention. she fights for my attention. she makes me feel special. carl said i was cool and he acted like a little kid for awhile--jumping around, talking in a high pitch voice, asking me what i wanted to play. it made me smile. and laugh.

i swore i wouldn't play magic again. but i did. and i beat michael and brett. but then i lost. i should learn to quit while i'm ahead. but it just doesn't seem right.

rachael, michael, carl, pratt, and i ate at this indian restaurant last night. we saw this guy wearing a shirt that read, "horn if you're honky." carl and i couldn't stop laughing. later, after many comments made by me--in my post-dinner high--about people losing limbs, rachael and i decided we should make a shirt that says, "i like limbs." it would be a cool t-shirt.

the question: would you rather never talk to me again or talk to me every day for the rest of your life? it will be forever unasked, unanswered.

sometimes the scariest things in life are when you realize that maybe you don't want something as much as you thought you did or when you realize you do want something more than you had originally thought.