Wait Wait Wait - Was that Eano writing Emotionally?

Its incredibly interesting to have the social role I do. I am entrusted by so many, with incredible secrets that I am to die before revealing to the same peers who are sharing like secrets with me across the room an hour later. Its quite the set up Ive evolved into, and I blame heavily my social status with girls. I keep a lot of 'lady friends' and along with the occasional date, kiss, hug, and glass of wine comes secrets, oh the secrets that can only be shared with myself because girls are too catty to tell one another anything of personal value at risk of it being used against them down the road.

The reason its okay to share with a guy that you trust is very simple. We care so much that we don't care. And granted, this heartfelt understanding that I provide the ladies of my life does spawn out of a continued desire to make out with them in the near future despite their secret flaws and self doubts that they throw upon me in the meantime. Quirks and faults make people perfect, and the irony embedded in comments like "we care so much that we don't care" or "faults make people perfect" are just some of the unique amazings that come along with human nature.

I went to the see a movie last night, and "shop girl" was actually very well done. Another Alfie like romance film that continues to feel built more for man than for women despite the shuning grimaces felt from any guy who to whom I mentioned I was going to see the movie. Its funny though, how these romantic tales written by men are marketed falsely to draw women into the theater when really they are emotional viewings of the modern man. Before this post develops into a sadass tell all, for the faults of my romantic existence, I will stop in the hopes of not getting punched during the next pick up basketball game I engage in; because apparently those are on the horizon.

The best or potentially worst part, depending on how you perceive the situation or care for me, about being the vault for so many, is how very few people have any idea about the secrets I keep, or things I choose not to say were it not for the man in the mirror that sometimes lends a ear to a vent out. I thank the inventor of moleskins now nearly everyday in written form as a signature to my personal posts within my little black book for letting me divulge the world that no one knows.

If you havn't seen the movie stop reading now, for the following sentences will just result in obscure reference. I'm sure the personality type which I have self painted above will change in the near future as no doubt an inevitable shop girl of my own will turn up and all that is quietly mine will want to be hungrily theirs. The question remains (and sorry for those who have no idea about the premise of the movie), that when the inevitable Miss Danes of my life does turn up, will I end up being the Font Writer or the Symbolic Logicist to her counter help?


ahh emotions, the foundation of art, so I've heard.

posted by mr. tomas ubik @ Friday, November 04, 2005