I'm in a most unusual mood tonight. Not merely a "weird" mood, as I've so often said. This particular mood is one that I honestly can't remember ever having before.

I just don't care.

Now, this mood certainly won't last. None of my moods ever last. I'm amazed that this one has gone on as long as it has. Since about midnight, I think.

This is not a reaction to anything in particular, or to the lack of anything in particular. There's no anger, or sadness, or frustration, or disillusionment, or confusion, or longing or even lust or even love. Okay, maybe there's some disillusionment, but not a lot. Not enough to explain this mood, now of all times. And there's always love, but it usually defines me instead of simply punctuating me.

There was no impetus at all for this mood. One second I felt all of the above, and the next second, I didn't.

This mood won't last. I don't want it to last. Not forever. Not even through tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning I want to wake up as myself. I need to know who I am, what I am, how I am. I need to fucking recognize myself when I look in the mirror tomorrow.

This person sitting here at my computer tonight, typing this crap - he isn't me. He's just another asshole who stopped caring because it hurt too much. Another dickhead who stopped trying because it was too hard. Another, dare I say, dipshit, who quit the game because he couldn't cheat and get away with it.

Fuck that. That's not who I am.

It's fascinating, though, I won't lie. I never thought there'd ever ever ever ever ever be a time when I'd feel like this again. I walked two miles tonight, towards my old high school, and with every step I took I imagined myself getting closer and closer to...

Well, I don't know what. Something. Some place that I haven't seen in a long time, or maybe ever.

I never got there. Maybe there doesn't exist. Not for me anyway. I tried to explore outside of myself and I found emptiness and loneliness. So, disappointed, I turned around and I walked home.

Tomorrow morning, I'll be me again. I'll love again and therefore I'll hurt again. But I think that the memory of tonight will be with me for a long time. The memory, and the realization that it brings.

Anything is possible, even the impossible.

It always happens this way. I make it one thing or two things into the list of a gazillion things that I want to say, and then the conversation ends. Abruptly.

Questions and comments and opinions and predictions and more questions and more comments, left to smolder inside my head. To fester and evolve into a beast that I can no longer contain.

It's all about the same thing, though. The quest.

The never-ending search for the right words, the magic turn-of-phrase, that will end this bullshit and right these wrongs and, well, fix everything.

There are people who might venture that things aren't broken, but those people don't have my unique perspective, so their opinions don't count. I was right all along, and I will continue to be right, and dammit I'm right at the present.

Alas, long-gone are the days of clubs and caveward draggings. Today, we live in an ostensibly polite and sophisticated society. Today, words are important.

So, I search for the words. Sometimes, I think I find them. I send them forth and, far too often they, like so many of their fallen brethren before them, end up impaled upon the swords of deaf ears, and they are forever silenced.

I'm in a weird mood this evening. In case you couldn't tell.

As it's looking more and more like I'm not going to be finding anything in Louisville anytime soon, it's looking more and more like I'm going to be leaving here for a while. Currently, I guess Cincinnati has the highest probability. That wouldn't be bad at all. It would allow me to come home whenever I felt like it.

Anyway, I'm checking out lodging costs up there. Not good. If I choose something like an Extended Stay, I'm effectively doubling my monthly housing costs. It should be possible to just get a furnished apartment for less money, though that brings more hassles.

I simply don't want to sell my house. I'm being quite stubborn about it. I can be that way.

Plus, the only reason I need to look elsewhere for work is to make my mortgage payments. If I were to sell my house, then I could just get a lower-paying job right here locally. So wanting to keep my house is what's making me need to leave my house. Pretty screwed-up, I know.

I could maybe accomplish the same thing by just refinancing and getting a lower mortgage payment. Problem with that, of course, is that getting refinanced without a job might be tricky.

Of course I can handle it. I'm stronger than people think. But I shouldn't fucking have to handle it. It's not supposed to be happening at all, and it's especially not supposed to be happening tonight.

I haven't seen SassyGirl in almost a year, and tonight, instead of getting to enjoy hanging out with her, I get to always keep one eye on the door and constantly be on pins and needles. I get to wait and wonder how many more seconds or minutes or hours I have until that wave of reality comes washing in to drown me.

I know, life isn't fair. I know that fact better than most people, I'd wager. But c'mon, sometimes it's just ridiculous. Sometimes it's a fucking joke, except nobody's laughing.

UPDATE: Well, reality was nice enough to call and let me know that I needn't expect it to show up Wednesday night after all. And then SassyGirl ended up making a short night of it, anyway, so I was able to come home earlier than anticipated. So, whew!

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.

So I'm thinking, once again, that I need to get away from here for a night. I get these itchy feet fairly often. The last time was Friday. I was all set to go up to Noblesville for the night. That's where the Barley Island Brewpub is located. I was craving myself some Dirty Helen and some Barfly on tap.

It's so weird that I like Barfly. I don't like very many IPAs at all. I wouldn't even have tried it if she hadn't asked me to. Now it's one of my favorites.

I ended up staying close to home Friday. That happens all the time, too. I get all fired-up about going out of town, and then I change my mind and end up not going anywhere. Right now, I'm thinking that I want to go to Covington, so that means that, in all likelihood, I'll stay home and maybe just go to Jack's tonight.

I stayed at my house last night. A Saturday night, wasted. I'm pissed about that, but it was for the best, I think.

And I'm so damn tired all the time. And I fubared my neck somehow. And I'm all alone.

And blah blah blah and waah waah waah.

No wonder I usually end up canceling my trips. I don't want to go anywhere with me, either.

Sometimes I get pissed. I wish I could stay that way. It seems more normal to me, and it would probably seem more normal to everyone else. Some people might even applaud.

It started out as a joke. A stupid game I'd play wherein I'd imagine and predict the worst thing that could happen.

It used to be funny, in a weird way. Until it all started coming true. Then it stopped being funny.

I wrote a while ago that I expect to be murdered. That was not a random off-the-cuff statement, it was a prediction. The end-result of a long list of bullshit mistreatment. A totally warranted extrapolation.

The cruelest and sweetest person I know will murder me someday. And I will like it, because I'll serve a purpose to her. An outlet of some kind, I guess.

I like being useful to the people I care about.

I'll probably be smiling when I die. I doubt that I'll be laughing, though, because that could be misinterpreted.