so close, yet so far . . .

So recently I received an email from someone, who shall remain nameless, who managed to sum me up in too short of a paragraph for my liking. 

Look, Dayne, you're obviously a great guy. You're so very smart and witty and challenging and engaging. You are funny when you choose to be, you are intense when the situation requires and you can be so so charming. You are very handsome, affectionate, and passionate and can really make a girl feel amazing. Like I said, you are a great guy, but you are obviously a mess and that is a problem. You know who you are but you don't know where you are going, you don't know what you want and you have these fits and starts about being really involved and then being all alone. It is extremely frustrating for someone who wants to get to know you, seriously disheartening for someone who wants to love you and thoroughly scary for someone who cares about you. You are so close to being what I and most of my single friends would love to have in a guy except you fall short where it really matters, making a girl feel safe and secure and comfortable in a relationship with you. 

There is more there but I can't put it in without this person being indicted. So there it is, awesome. Cheers

sticking your tongue out at me

What I said: "I'll grab that thing and rip it right out of your head."

What I thought: I'll wrap my lips around that thing and suck it right out of your head.

But that would be impropriety at work, and we can't have that. Try that again when we're not at work.

daynicated

So are people complicated or do I enter a state of complicated about people of my own accord. I've decided that since I am typically in a state of complication when dealing with people that those are the only two possibilities here.

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Everyone has an egg.

Shame –noun; the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another Shame –verb; to cause to feel shame; make ashamed

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Return to my dreams

You’ve made a return to my dreams as of late. I don’t typically remember my dreams, but when I do, they’re usually part of a revelation of some kind a day or two later. Who knows what will come of this one. In this strange little adaptation of life I am a Jedi, but not the cool, sexy, all-knowing British accent Ewan kind, nor the whiny, someone killed my mom, I’m in love with a princess kind; more like the I’m afraid of my powers and what if I slip up and destroy people with them kind.

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