wonderwaffles

This is Beloit on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning there was exhaustion, Rupert's unrelenting attack, and a somber family who all are escaping the world that they have shared. It's not a falling apart as much as it's an evolution. Things change. My dad once complained, as he is accustomed to, how life is supposed to get easier. "It's not supposed to be like this. It's supposed to be easier. You're not supposed to struggle like this forever."

I think his hope was naieve. It never gets truly better. It just changes form. There was an emptiness this Christmas. Really, it felt like we were investing a lot in something we hoped was really there. But maybe naievete is a family precondition. Maybe there really is nothing, just as it never really gets beter. Things change. So what value can a thing at any moment ever really have?

On an unrelated note, I know a guy who calls women heffiers. Including his daughter. I think he wants to get me laid. I'm scared, in a 40-year-old-virgin kind of way. I wish to avoid that. Will my willpower hold out against boobies and desperate women all struggling for my attention? Maybe. Probably. I'm never less sexy than I am when I want to get up and leave. The gentleman in me hates that, though.

Ah, well. A life of adventure and treasure and power. Maybe I'll be a 3rd level Geek soon, I could use that extra feat.