ALL-NEW Lost, followed by your Local Weather at 10.

It’s been slipping back and forth between freeze-your-eyeballs cold, to spring groundhogs popping up, and back to piss popsicle cold again. Sometimes rainy. Sometimes sunny and freezing at the same time. I think that was hail I encountered on Friday. Perhaps Mother Nature suffers from a hormonal imbalance too?

I’m lost. There’s no way to say that without some sort of smirk, because Wednesdays ARE in fact Lost-centric, are they not? Well, I don’t have a TV, and must therefore wait to download it when it goes online later... so that’s not quite what I am talking about at the moment. I’m talking about the out of control emotional upheaval that comes with an ‘under the (...fucking cold) weather’ both heart and uterus.

Not to be too awkward about this, but I hate periods.

About, oh let’s say... one year, four months, and two weeks ago, I turned down s-e-x with the only man I have ever loved because I was on mine. The NEXT day he went on a date with the girl who became his long-term girlfriend. Do you believe in fate? Could this to be equated with having your numbers come up the week you forgot to buy a lottery ticket?

What if, What if, What...

You can’t live in the past, but as writers, I think we often do. Just as much as we live in the future, and many alternate realities. We play the ‘what if’ game, and we play it long into overtime. Not because we are our characters, but because we are NOT. Their lives are in control. Ours. They can get what we can’t, and what makes them even luckier is that they can get over what we can never. We know not only how it will end for them, but everything that could have happened. It’s “Choose Your Adventure” except in life you can’t flip back and compare the other options. With your own characters, you know what they think of each other. We know “Why they said that weird thing”. We know where they go when they die.

I’m lost somewhere in between my real life, and the fictitious adventure of my choice. The sub zero temp is also turning me to ice. Maybe that's why I feel brittle.

I’m sorry if I’ve pissed you off.
-Des

If I were choosing between facing a pack of wolves, or jumping a bottomless pit... I would jump the pit. Turn to page 94.