Bard

I'm not satisfied
Just to converse with you,
It's not enough.

Your eyes meet mine
I like your eyes,
They crinkle in the corners when you smile

Your stories keep me entranced
Far-off places and wild things
I want to go adventuring

You stand there
You're like a stranger -
So much I don't know
Yet you are a kindred spirit;
I've known you for ever.

You stand there
Telling wild tales, all true
Bard, I want to call you, singer and wanderer
Poet and traveller
Truth-seeker

You make me want to vanish in the mists
Hunting deer, catching fish,
Singing in the silence

I'm not satisfied
Just to converse with you
It's not enough -

I want to wander, climb a mountain,
Seek the sunrise.

I just wish you would come with me.

In which I do stuff, I receive stuff, and I break stuff. Well, Dad broke it first.

Well this should be interesting. I'm running the show at work at my secondary site this afternoon after setting up a projector for a slideshow. Then next week I'm doing the same at the primary site on Monday and Wednesday both. Oy vey. I don't know if I'm up to being the boss all by myself yet. But gotta do what gotta do, neh?

Oh, and my co-workers know me rather well already.
I got to work this morning and there was a book on my desk, which I got told was for me. It's a True Blood cookbook. Apparently I appear to be one of those people who appreciates vampires. Hah. My one co-worker gets books like that from HBO for being a good customer. I dunno. All I know is that I'm taking this thing home with great pleasure.
Ironically, I don't even watch the show. I've seen bits of episodes, and read bits of the books it's based on, but I haven't really gotten into it the same way I got into Doctor Who for example.
I just love that my co-workers know me that well. I even tone my clothing down for work on purpose - but I guess once a goth, always a goth...

Something else that happened the other day: I used to have a cute little blue-plastic-cased typewriter. It wasn't working properly, so on Wednesday I opened it up and fixed it. But then I found another problem with it, and while I was poring over it, my dad turned up at my house; he was waiting for someone and my house was close so he dropped in. I showed him the problem, and he said, oh, here, let me look. And accidentally broke it altogether. Whoops. So yesterday I pulled it to bits with a screwdriver, because I was in a mood and needed something to destroy, and since it was already broken, it didn't matter so much. So that worked out, and now I have typewriter keys and letter hammers and all those good things. Plus I felt better after.

So that's it. Toodles.