Strange Places

Okay guys, I was cleaning out my "blog drafts" - I sometimes save half-of-a-thought in drafts and finish it later. Okay, over the past 18 months, I had about 20 partially written posts. The following entry is half-written, and I composed it in June 2007.x

I think I wanted to capture the feeling of waking up in a strange place, then hazily recount the events that led to being in a strange bed. It probably would have been light erotica, but I really don't recall the direction in which I was going.

I was not happy enough with the beginning to finish it, but the words were not complete crap either. This blog has been a strange place for the last six months for me; I apologize for that. I half-understand why people blow up their blogs, perhaps wanting to start from scratch or destroy the evidence.

Me, I am not going to do that. Blow things up. Seems too violent, and some people still access my older posts in Google and other search engines. Some of the advice is good (what not to say to someone who has lost a friend), and some of it is not so useful (which superhero I want to have sex with). Okay, I just read the what to say when someone died blog just now, and I think people are going to think that Google sucks now, because when they type in "what to say when someone dies", they get sort of a smart-ass response. Personally, I hope that karma is a lot of crap, or I am in big trouble.

For a bit of a more humorous story, check out yesterday's post. It is a childhood memory, somewhat humorous. Oh, and I can't help but notice that this introduction is longer than the blog entry.

When she awoke, the surroundings seemed strange. She was not in her dorm room; she was not at her parent's home; she was in someone else's dorm room.

At first, this shocked her. Not that she had forgotten exactly what had led to this moment, but that she half-expected to be in her own room.

Her clothes were strewn on the floor of the dorm room, and she was laying in bed alone, completely naked. Or was that completely nude? Naked seemed more appropriate, as this seemed to describe a bit of harshness in her waking up in strange surroundings.

Her first-time lover was across the room, in his bed no doubt.

The next sense was the smell of unclean sheets. Yes, the bed she occupied had sheets that were in desperate need of attention. Great, the dirty sheets were touching her all over, and now she definitely would call herself naked, not nude.

As she focused her eyes on the paint spackled ceiling, the events of the evening came into focus as well. She was dancing with a group of friends, and she remembers being asked to dance by a couple of guys. Not really her type, but they were buying her drinks. That sort of made them half-way acceptable. But "half-way acceptable" was a far cry from what one of them had become, her lover.