(The fact that I wrote the above paragraph is giving me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Especially the sports teams thing. I think I just want a little crazy with the brackets. I am a sports addict, but mindfully, I think. There's an excellent quote I recently read that I strongly identify with, and explains my devotion to corporate entities who pay men to hurt themselves and each other. It's from a New Yorker article written by Roger Angell in 1975:
"It is foolish and childish, on the face of it, to affiliate ourselves with anything so insignificant and patently contrived and commercially exploitive as a professional sports team, and the amused superiority and icy scorn that the non-fan directs at the sports nut (I know this look -- I know it by heart) is understandable and almost unanswerable. Almost. What is left out of this calculation, it seems to me, is the business of caring -- caring deeply and passionately, really caring -- which is a capacity or an emotion that has almost gone out of our lives. And so it seems possible that we have come to a time when it no longer matters so much what the caring is about, how frail or foolish is the object of that concern, as long as the feeling itself can be saved. Naivete -- the infantile and ignoble joy that sends a grown man or woman to dancing and shouting with joy in the middle of the night over the haphazardous flight of a distant ball -- seems a small price to pay for such a gift.")
I frequently wind up on this site late at night. Normally after frustrating or particularly lonely nights. It's not that I expect to actually meet anyone. It's just somewhat comforting to see other people casting their eyes aether, hoping or maybe even longing like I so often do.
Plus it's nice to be stalked every once in a while.
I am introverted, reflective, and witty