Lotion for face, Pomeade for Hair

Have my headphones today, thankfully one painfully quiet day without music was enough to trigger the mental reminder to throw them into my bag before heading to bed last night. Bed time came late, such a surprise. I had ever intention to hit the sack around 10:00 when lo and behold, it was more like 11:30 when my head hit the pillow with Bean snuggled in tight to my side. 5:15 am the alarm went off and I snoozed it just long enough to realize that damn, it's morning already! Another day, another opportunity to be something, be someone, or be something to someone. I never know what that something is going to be or who that someone is, but it's a shot, right? Maybe be something to me? So Adam Duritz sings his melancholy in my ears this morning against beautiful melodies of fiddles and pianos and guitars and I'm always surprised to hear these songs and layers within the music that I hadn't recognized before. Started off the play list with "insignificant" off the 'Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings' album which speaks to a topic none of us want to face. "I don't wanna feel so different but I don't wanna be insignificant" and I know that feeling all too well. Want to remain in this place of inspiration and hurt, but don't want to die knowing I didn't leave my mark. Scary thought, right?

So, as I ran through my morning routine, pre-coffee, pre-awake really, I powered through trying to beat the clock and knowing how quickly I needed to get my ass out the door. Shower, towel, deodorant, drawls, pants, shirt; so far so good. Toothpaste on toothbrush, 45 seconds per quadrant, done. Reached back into the drawer, toothpaste and deodorant dropped back in, pulled out the face lotion and pomade. Lotion in hand, hands in hair, rubbed it in good. Pomade fingered out of the canister, rubbed into my hands, hands to the face, rub in nice and deep...Wait, what the hell did I just do! Yeah, I did it, in my haste to hurry things up, and I can honestly say it's the first time I've ever done it, and let me tell you first hand, pomade is not a moisturizing agent. So there I am, hair looking like some kind of amazing and gooey sticky paste on my face, I so wish I had a picture for posterity. Bean just sat on the floor staring, I know deep down that could she have said something, she would have been cackling like Marge Simpson's twin sisters. I did have a quick laugh and got to fixing my error. 10 minutes and a whole lot of scrubbing later, I was out the door to the train station...talk about my life in a snapshot. Somethings have to be in the right place or else disaster ensues.

Question of the day (Pre-Pomade Incident): How can an introvert truly be lonely alone? In college I took the Myers-Briggs assessment, which is a psychometric questionnaire designed to measure psychological preferences in how people perceive the world and make decisions(Thanks Wiki). Believe it or not, and I do agree for the most part, I am an introvert. I get energy from being to myself and really am not comfortable in huge crowds. I'm more of an intimate scene kind of guy, a few close friends always preferred to a house party, chill bar or pub over a club. It's not to say I wouldn't go to either, just not my real cup of tee, and probably a good reason my circle of friends hasn't grown year after year. Back to the question though, how is it that in my isolation, where I should thrive, can I be this lonely? I know the obvious answers, but that's not what I'm asking. Where is the motivation I seek to escape this boredom? Oh yeah, I'm finding alone time super boring and a bit aggravating. Is this stir crazy cabin fever I'm approaching?

I tried smiling more yesterday, my day flew by, and I guess it did feel better than it had over previous days. I still feel like a cannon ball shot through the air, trying to learn to fly without the pin point accuracy of a missile and not knowing my target or trajectory. It's scary, not knowing what's next and the risk taker is burrowing his head in the sand, too afraid to see the results.

Damian Rice in the ears now, angry bitter Irish man who so eloquently and beautifully sings words that often pour out of my heart and my eyes "So it's not hard to fall, when you float like a cannonball". I'll keep trying to smile today, especially with the lotion and pomade in the correct places.

Stay blessed