10 am. everyone else is preoccupied with work. the diary isn't filled with the stuff to do before the trip tomorrow. it's the twins' birthday today. the excel file onscreen taunts me, daring me to snap out of lethargy. it's there, what i had to do, but thinking about it and how to go about it still confuses me.
anjanette does her final spiel this morning, and segues into the familiar opening licks from jeff buckley. i shift to the open explorer window, trying to stop myself from clicking the saved webpage.
i couldn't resist.
friendship between men and women is one of my pet fascinations. i love delving into the dynamics of intergender relationships, and i'm thankful that i have at least one male best friend. it's one of the reasons i enjoy seeing gary sinise and melina kanakaredes sharing a scene in csi: new york. the evidence of an enduring friendship between mac taylor and stella bonasera is inspiring. gil grissom and catherine willows may lord it over in fanficdom, the moderate popularity of mac and stella is more in tune with their low-key profiles anyway (though stella is definitely more striking).
there is good reason why a fanfic is labeled "angst". it shouldn't be approached within ten paces this early in the workday. my eyes prick with the threat of tears while the song in my ear winds down. great. mac is saying his last goodbye to his colleague and friend lying in the casket, at the same time jeff buckley is screaming "it's over."
thank heaven stella is actually alive and kicking ass into season 2. but i have to wonder, is it wise to be caught up in the fictional lives of the new york city police department, the las vegas crime lab, the diagnostics department of princeton-plainsboro teaching hospital? when has staying up until 11 or 12 ever done me good, even with my heart bursting with joy from the temporary escape?
or is life passing me by without me actually living it, except in my head?
