MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH MEAN, BITTER INDIVIDUALS.

Dr. Gregory House can diagnose me with schizophrenia any day.
Unless they find some other mystifying disease to slap on my case file...

Enough jabbering. More Jabberwocky.
Mmm. Jabberwocky.
With mere days until the start of Advanced Placement Fest 2005, I must stop to ponder whether or not I am truly "prepared" for that which I shall be facing, be it Fictional Analysis, Slope Regression, The Phillips Curve, Freudian Hypnosis, Judicial Linkage, or good ol' fashioned Hydrocarbons.
Alas, tis' time for my waking to cease.
I'm going to go sleep.
Either way, I'm finished typing.
Sort of.
In a rather non-conformist sense.

I can't bring myself to quit. Something about the rain tapping overhead and the cool draft from our porch door brings me to typing. It has little to do with the fact that the keys being hit sound much like the fall of rain, like lengthy words and quirky phrases dropping out of some sky at my command. And it couldn't possibly be the fact that these stupid cats refuse to let me be. They purr and scratch and claw their way into my attentive span of thought, and for some odd reason, I can't bring myself to crowd them out. My mind feels neglected, perhaps, after the long days without physical disclosure of thought, or extensive sleep deprivation, or maybe even bizarre responsibility to relinquish my daily existence for someone else to ignore and fail to partake in. But I haven't given them the opportunity, so...
If I could print out five copies of my life story and hand them to people with a guarantee that they would be fully read and (even better) understood, who would they go to? And far more importantly, would this be an autobiography or some primeval, editorialist crap written by Robert Downy Jr.? These, people, are the important questions.
In five ridiculously generalized personas:
1. Someone compassionate.
2. Someone intelligent. Ingenious, even.
3. Someone with looks to kill. Definately someone I'd sleep with.
4. Someone I've always wanted to trust, but never had courage enough to do so.
5. Someone who has always disliked me.

I suppose you could guess names for each separate category. Most wash over into each of the others. I may find someone who is each and every one of those things. A talented individual, indeed.
Something tells me I've yet to meet most of them.