And even though, yeah – its a piece of fluff, its also strangely deep.

Unless I’m the only one who hears this song as this guy is doing what he feels he has to – what he thinks he must — in order to get through a trial? *shrug* Could be a meaphor for life, I suppose.

I wanted to thank everyone who responded yesterday with hugs, advice, love. I appreciate it very much. Alot of what I was doing, saying wasn’t …hrm…immediate? I’ve a rotten past. But I’ve got a fantastic present.

Let me repeat that to myself, excuse me. I’ve got a fantastic NOW.

Sometimes the past rears up and just bites me in the ass. And it doesn’t matter what anyone says or does. I feel dirty, used, old and broken. Like a discarded, unwanted toy. Intellectually, I know its not the case. But sometimes I get doubts and don’t feel worthy of the wonderful family; the people, and things that I’ve got in my life.

But eventually, I do get over myself. Purging it out of me where I have to look at it helps. Every time I do that, some of the scarring does fade. I am hopeful (confident?) that I will be able to put this crap behind me permanently someday.

So thank you. Thank you. I am not going to tell you guys that I’m “all better” today ’cause that would be a lie. But I amm not bad. And I’m certainly better than yesterday evening.

Going the Distance
Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags goes up,
Churning and burning, they yern for the cup.

They deftly manouver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank,
Wreckless and wild they pour thru the turns,
Their prowless is potent and secretly stern.

As they speed thru the finish the flags go down.
The fans get up, and get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

He’s going the distance.
He’s going for speed.
She’s all alone, all alone in her time of need.

Because he’s racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He’s fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He’s going the distance.

Yeah!

No trophy, no flowers, no flash bulbs, no wine.
He’s haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster truck force.
In his mind he’s still driving, still making the grade.
She’s hoping time that her memories will fade,
Cause he’s racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He’s fighting and biting and riding on his horse.

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he’s striving and driving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

Cause he’s going the distance.
He’s going for speed.
She’s all alone, all alone in her time of need.

Because he’s racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He’s figting and biting and riding on his horse,
He’s racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He’s figting and biting and riding on his horse!

He’s going the distance.
He’s going for speed.
He’s going the distance..