When the lights go out

So many people have struggled with the question of whether knowing is better than not knowing. I've come to believe that knowledge does not necessarily equal power in all situations. If your boyfriend cheated on you and stopped, is it better to know? Probably not. Or, if you cheated on your boyfriend and stopped, should you tell him? Probably not. It was in the past and would only cause problems.

The point is, I'm the one in the dark right now. I'm the boyfriend that was cheated on. I have a feeling there is some information out there that would change the way I feel about my daily life - at least for the foreseeable future, and if confirmed, would make me hate things even more.

I think I will keep the lights out - I think I will go green.

Edge Time

I don't know where I went. I started posting almost daily and then nothing.

Sorry, Rachel.

I suppose it's because I don't really have much to say, but do you know who does? My friend, Catherine. She wrote a blog post the other day I read twice because I like it so much. Probably the best post I have ever read in my life. Ever. So I think you should read it, too.

Without further ado, here is the link to her blog with a small bit of enticement:

http://itsourtimeontheedge.blogspot.com/2009/04/free-to-good-home.html

"Happy almost-Easter. Here’s the story of a giant rabbit.

I opened my Tuesday by rifling through pictures of Chicago Easters gone by in the Trib and then somehow stumbled upon this picture of a giant rabbit. This man in Germany raises them and sells them to the Koreans for food. Or something. So while giant rabbits might make people in certain cultures think of nachos, they make me think of my childhood. Since my very first pet doesn’t count – her name was Peggy, and she was a cat, and we had to have her put to sleep after only two weeks – I will go ahead and claim a giant rabbit as my first official pet. Hot off of sitting shiva for Peggy, my mom and dad were patronizing the local pharmacy when they noticed a sign on the door that said something to the effect of:

Housebroken rabbit. Free to a good home.

I have this sign memorized because my mom quoted it all the time. So they decided to adopt said housebroken rabbit. His name was Jackie, but my mom thought that name was too white (rabbit) trash and changed it to the much-classier Jamie. Jamie was a Giant Newfoundland that had been abandoned by his previous owners, probably for being too mind boggling. He was the size and shape of a big Rockwellesque Thanksgiving turkey. He had black ears and a black tail and piercing red eyes that meant business. He used a litter box, and his terds looked like cocoa puffs......"


Nice job, Catherine. Normally I would have just stolen this blog post and used as my own, but apparently I was given a soul this Easter. Lame.

See ya at Ikea.