I spend a lot of time searching for words. I bet most people who do a lot of writing, professionally or otherwise, do the same thing. Oh sure, most of the time I'll just let my fingers pick the words for me, but every now and then they choose poorly. That's when it's up to my brain to get off its lazy ass, stop fantasizing about pretty girls, and do some work.

I've been in this mood since last Friday at least. One of confusion, but that's not quite the right word. One of concern, but that's not it either. My brow has been almost constantly furrowed. There was, I knew, a word for the mood in which I found myself mired, but that word was hiding from me.

I found it last night, about halfway between my house and the Highlander Point shopping center. I walked along the dark road, and I passed a deer. Just standing in a field, as deer so often do. Upon my approach, it turned its body away, but it did not run. It just looked at me, its head turning smoothly. When I'd passed behind it, the deer turned its head the other way, and watched me some more.

I kept an eye on it, of course. Just in case it decided to attack. Do deer have rabies? If the deer had attacked, I supposed I'd have used the time-honored defense method of shitting my pants to gross-out my opponent. But it didn't attack, it only watched me, and then when I was a safe distance away, it crossed the road.

Perhaps it had a date with a chicken. None of my business, and who am I to judge?

For years, my thoughts have been almost constantly churning, my heart has been almost constantly yearning. But for the last few days, there's been something else. I couldn't find the word for my mood, until I looked into the inky eyes of that deer. That deer, watching me walk down the road in the middle of the night, it was experiencing the same mood. The same feeling of confused concern.

That deer was perplexed.

And so am I.