an ecstasy of fumbling

On December 16, I was taking an exam, and I didn't do this. But Leo McGarry lives, and John Spencer is missed.

"If we're going to walk into walls I want us running into them full speed. We're going to lose some of these battles, and we might even lose the White House, but we're not going to be threatened by issues. We're going to bring 'em front and center. We're going to raise the level of public debate in this country, and let that be our legacy." [Let Bartlet Be Bartlet]

i don't say things here often, but this is important.

does anyone who watches the same things i do or listens to them or such have any idea from where "boy howdy" (ironically) entered by vocabulary?

i can't account for it. i am a bit disturbed.

i read harry potter, starting the first one right before the seventh came out and reading all the way through. after a decade boycott, a friend persuaded me to plow through prisoner of azkaban, after which i could stop if i wanted.

the obsessive love (of which i am surely capable) never crept in, but they are charming, to be sure.

mostly, because i am so lame, i ( fell in love with remus lupin )

i always resort to the premise that people act rationally, which is itself irrational, because i have abundant evidence that they don't.

i want people to be dependable, consistent, intellectually and morally rigorous. values ought to be abided until paradigms shift, for what are values littered with haphazard exceptions? and what are orderly exceptions if not an adjustment of presupposed values?

i am a fucntionalist, but i have my uses for forms.

i've learned, by looking at slights that once stung, that time really does heal. that enough time drains an uncomfortable memory of emotional content.

but i have difficulty leaving things to time.

b and i had a follow up conversation, again all calm and open and positive, but there's this thing that happened, a little thing, a minor lie. and i look at it and know that i care too much, and that a year or two from now, i will laugh. by then, even the details of why we broke up will have staled and the pain of it will be faintly remembered if remembered at all.

this won't be remembered, but it bothers me now, with its defiant stray details.

i can't figure out how to turn my brain off. i can't table anything until i've worked it over and over, found a way to account for every fact within one framework. i've never learned how to accept without explaining.

b says, "i can't account for that. i can't explain how it fits." it surprises me that he is okay with that; he's the scientist. "it wasn't rational," which, almost by definition, explains nothing.