When Peter the Great came to power in Russia he changed everything. He wanted Russia to be like the Western countries, more industrialized. He made everything he could be more like the West, school, military, court, language, everything. 100, 200 years later, looking back on his reign, people began to wonder, "Did he go too far? Was there something good and uniquely Russian that we had that got lost in our haste to change?" "Can we ever get it back?"

This title has nothing to with what I'm going to write about. It's just the name of a really good song I recently discovered. Here's what it is: if you knew me, you'd know that I'm a very quiet person. This is not because I'm shy or nervous around people. It's because my thoughts don't make sense in my head. It's only when I see them on paper that I can understand what I'm thinking. So I'd much rather listen to what other people have to say then say what's on my mind. I like hearing other people's opinions, let's just say that. But. That doesn't mean that I NEVER have anything to say. Some people take advantage of the fact that I don't speak often. They congragate around me and talk and talk. And usually I don't mind because as I've said, I like listening but sometimes I do want to tell you something. And you're not even paying attention. I want what little I say to be meaningful to you. I want you to realize that if I'm talking then it's something I've thought alot about. And it's important to me. It doesn't have to be important to you to but could you just pretend?

"She's probably mute." "Are you mute?" Pixler asked. "No." Candy replied. "Ah. That's one theory that bites the dust." -Abarat

I used to have these shoes, right? These beautiful wonderful shoes. Usually, I'm not one to care but these were something else. They were yellow but not a bright, showy yellow, just a nice, golden kind of yellow with a wedge heel and a small flower over the toes. I loved those shoes. I wore them even as the leather was cracking and the heels were falling apart. The only thing was that they hurt. A lot. They never quite made me bleed, but every step caused my calves and the bottom of my feet to protest. But. I kept wearing them every day. I had this idea that eventually, if I just ignored it, my feet would used to it. They'd get tough enough to just deal with it. Those wonderful shoes fell completely apart before that ever happened.

I've been thinking about it alot lately and I've decided that God, to me, is most like Sean Connery. "What?" I hear you cry. "That makes no sense." Just wait. I will explain. Sean Connery has a very reconizable voice. You and the average human would hear it and say, "ahh yes I know that voice well." Or at worst you might say "that voice. It's so familier. I know I've heard it before somewhere." But. I want you to do an experiment for me. Call it homework. Or don't. Go into a room full of people, any room, and ask the people in question to do their best impression of Sean Connery. They'll all have one, even if they're too embarrassed to say them out loud. And I bet some of them will be so good that, if the real Sean Connery was in the room, you would have some difficulty pointing out the real one. That's how God is to me. If it was just he and I, I'd know him in an instant. But. It's not just he and I. It's he and I and all these imposters. I hate that this is true but there's no way to deny it. I don't know what is true about him and what are lies. And if he's giving me a whole bunch of hints than I'm too busy thinking, "are you REALLY God? Or are you an impersonator? Cause there is not way I'm falling for that trick." You see? It makes some kind of sense doesn't it, this theory of mine. At least, I think it does.

I've figured it out. The root of our problem. And, to my immense surprise, it's not you. The problem is that talking to you is like a running a race. You know what I mean. We go faster, faster, faster. Arguing and competing to make each other laugh. Trying to get there first. It makes a person feel exuasted, gasping for breath. And I, being who I am, misenterpretted that breathless feeling for affection or something like the mythical symptoms of love. You see? In reality it was just the race, nothing more. Did you figure it out before I did? Or did you always know?

But then walking, sliding, Masquerading, Hearing, listening, seeing, Laughing, calling, Disappointing, Becomes paper, Becomes fire, Becomes smoke, Twist and turn, Whirl and vanish

Today I was listening to the radio and heard this FANTASTIC song. But the radio, being how it is, didn't say the name or who sang it. So here I'm going to put the lyrics and hope someone replies with what song it is. And when I see you walking down the street, kind of guy I'd like to meet, Come and give it to me And when I see you driving in your car, looking like a movie star, Come and give it to me Rock those blue jeans Baby Make me feel like I'm brand new Anyone?

"'you can't see love,' she said. 'bullshit'Sam opened the peanut butter jar. He went through a period when he was younger when he would eat only peanut butter and jelly. 'you definitely can.' 'really?' Meredith said, 'show me.' Sam grinned and tore his toast apart, offering her half. Meredith sat down beside him at the counter and ate toast and drank tea. They decided to leave the dishes for Cynthia. 'thanks,'Meredith said even though she hated peanut better. 'you were right.' 'Finally, right about something.'"-Skylight Confessions

I have a question. It's going to make me sound like the kind of person I'd rather not be but I'm going to ask it anyway because it's burning my mouth to keep it inside. So here it is: Is anyone there? Sometimes I feel like the rest of the world doesn't exist. Like it's a lie or an illusion. Especially when I'm sitting here in my room all alone. but not always. Sometimes I feel it when I'm at work and I'm tired and I've given you the wrong type of dressing and you're contemplating not giving me a tip. I feel it then too. So I have to ask, I have to know, is there anyone else out there? Hello? Hello? Are you there? Or do I just want you to be?