The past few weeks

The past few weeks rank among some of the most exciting ones of my entire life so far. Between work, class and a certain someone who entered my life -- more on her later -- I feel like I'm living life at a rate that defies the nature of time, like I fit more experience and existence into an hour than a human being is supposed to.

Oh, there are problems, yes, but the solutions have been within my grasp, most of the time. My life lately just seems so incredible, and it's great.

I went on a road trip yesterday with a lady I met a few months ago at a crosswalk near my house. This lady, whose name will be withheld to protect the innocent, recognized me from the Public Editor ads and we struck up a little conversation. We met for coffer two weeks ago. I took her out for ice cream a week later.

And we went on a road trip to Salina and Abilene yesterday to check out a bunch of historical spots and museums. Learned a ton and had the most fun I've had in a long time. It was undoubtedly the best day so far this month.

We agreed at the end of the day that we're still getting to know each other, which is good. I haven't had the most luck with relationships in my life, but I get this feeling of bizarre but vague optimism whenever I'm talking to her. I can't help but feel excited about wherever this may lead.

To close, the lyrics to a Ryan Adams song I've been playing off and on lately that expresses part of what's going on. Emphasis on "part of," though.

Ryan Adams, "Desire"
Two hearts fading, like a flower.
And all this waiting, for the power.
For some answer, to this fire.
Sinking slowly. The water's higher.
Desire

With no secrets. No obsession.
This time I'm speeding with no direction.
Without a reason. What is this fire?
Burning slowly. My one and only.
Desire.

You know me. You don't mind waiting.
You just can't show me, but God I'm praying,
That you'll find me, and that you'll see me,
That you run and never tire.
Desire

Yeah, I don't know what I'm talking about when I'm dealing with this stuff.
That's not a bad thing, though, even for a writer.