Wallace & Portia

I fell asleep when I got home from work today. I left the TV on loud because my ears are bothering me from my head cold. It played with both my dreams and the spaces inbetween. I half-woke up telling myself I should post a blog. Not just any blog, but one specific to the false sense of security "public places" bring. The example in my mind was involving internet dating. You hear alot, "Let's meet in a public place, so I know you're not going to kill me." Sometimes it's tongue-n-cheek, but sometimes that's the actual reason. There are quadrillions of good reasons to meet someone from the internet in a public place... 1. to see if they've lied about their physical appearance (or taken a shot of boobs and head that doesn't articulately represent them). 2. because if they happen to be complete bastards in a public place, that's a pretty good litmus test. 3. it would atleast facilitate a harder kidnapping scenario.

The list goes on and on. But, my point really is this. We are all delusional in thinking that if we talk to someone...look into their eyes, whatever, that we get some guttural sense of them. This is NOT the case. Now usually, it's benign. It turns out those gentle eyes were lying to you. They were naive. They didn't know what they wanted. But, we all want the best, and sometimes we hope for the best. So, if the intent really is to screen out murderers, look elsewhere. I have no idea what the answer is. Background checks don't help. 48% of murderers aren't caught. And, if they're ballsy enough to meet you online under false pretense, who's to say they can't get coffee and be sane? Not that this is an online-dating thing at all. I mean, you could face the same thing in a club, or at a ball game, or at soccer practice. We need to totally revisit what we idealize as 'safe' and 'unsafe.'

So, I guess when it comes down to it. I'm writing this because I'm miffed at how people can be one thing for awhile and then completely change. I mean completely. It's the recurring nightmare of my life. Sometimes it's over the course of 36 hours, sometimes it's closer to 2304 hours. There are no rules, no real warning signs, just abrupt "I'm-not-that-person-anymore-ness"

Be careful out there.

I'm IMing. I haven't really done it in awhile. When I was in my teens, it was like texting to teens these days. I was addicted, and I was really good at it. I was able to get my point across, be funny, and maybe even enjoy myself. These days it's much more utilitarian. Much like any writing I do. I have to be prodded into it, and even then it's only a shadow of my former voice. Regardless of that. I'm IMing. It's hard for me to talk. Getting over a cold, now compounded with another one. I ordered pizza from the place that lets me order online just so I wouldn't have to talk. And how did the IM end? "I believe in some traditional gender roles." What does that even mean? Subtextually I'm not sure. On the bright side, it's 9PM, and I'm awake. Unusual.