Well, my birthday was grand; granted, there were no jack-o-lantern cakes and neighborhood children posing as friends long enough to snag some cake and ice cream, but then that was one of those rare reasons I never liked being little. People were less likely to take my diatribes seriously. (Of course, most of them were about the foul taste of broccoli or how one of my siblings had taken up more than their fairly meted share of the backseat.)
Aside from running around the bulk of Saturday on random errands for snow pants and tennis shoes, we went to a couple of places to eat, which will probably mean larger lovehandles, less love. :) Anyway, last night we went to have dinner w/ my Uncle J.D. and a few of his "crew" at Mandarin, a popular chinese place in Bountiful.
And I suppose I'm not truly capable of expressing how the evening went, because I frankly don't know. I have a casual good time w/ my family, but I'm inept at informing the public about "how my evening was." I'm sure I'll perturb any future friends, fiancee, etc. with my apparent constipation, but I'm only good at discussing things that seem emotionally eventful. I could write a novel about the various oddities that I witness just being around flesh and blood relatives, but then I worry that I might ruin familial reputation doing so . . .
What I realize, though, is that too much goes unsaid.
Anyway, I wonder if for all of my boasting about my being raised by my mother and sis, and my wondrous sensitivity, if I'm not just as emotionally boxed in . . . or emotionally dead. I could easily relate that to the scriptural "hearts waxing cold," since I consider myself the very "vilest of sinners," but I want to believe there's some societal catalyst that causes it.
All I know is that I respect those persons who honestly display their emotions, "emotional exhibitionists" if you will. I don't know that I term anger or lust as true emotions, since when I experience them they kill off the clarity that drives my happiness, my concern, my love, my sorrow for others' grief, etc. In other words I applaud those who, having kept themselves pure, know true emotion, even passion.
That's all for now . . . no more complaints about MOULDY BLOGS, lest I curse you w/ a siege of enchanted cats . . .