The Wagons Strike Again! and a Smile

First off, I'm still plagued by that Donnar Party documentary that aired on PBS Monday evening. I don't understand why the members of the Donnar Party didn't kill themselves. Was it because kool-ade hadn't been invented? I mean, people with jobs and food kill themselves everyday. Why not these itinerants? It takes so much more effort to eat someone than to sit in your makeshift cabin and wait for death. Let me put it this way Elliot Smith had a music career, tons of booze, and of course food-not made from humans- and he chose to stab himself in the heart. The wagon train people had so much less. Couldn't they tell god wanted them to die. I don't know. All I know is that I couldn't sleep again.

Moving on. I lack a certain social grace while on the phone, but get me in person and I'm a social dynamo. As long as you're not a comedian. Then for some reason I wind up accidently causing drama. Non-comedians, however find me delightful. Frequently, men will tell me how it's so easy to talk to me, and how they've, "Never told anyone this before, but..." Or " I can't believe I'm telling you all this...yadda yadda yadda." Of course it's true and not just some line.

Here's the thing, though. Despite my free-wheeling conversational style that puts so many a man at ease, there are only a few boys I have had that spark with. And though I can talk for hours with lots of different people from strangers to the periphery only Jack makes me happy when there's complete silence. Only after talking to Jack about absolutely nothing of consequence do I walk away with a huge grin on my face. And I don't even realize I'm smiling.
I'm really pretty lucky I guess. Here's hoping my boyfriend and I never end up on a doomed wagon train.