Waiting...

Waiting doesn't become me. Not exactly. I'm what some may call impatient. Impatient, others would think, is the understatement of the millennium. Either way, what I lack in patience I make up for in passione. But here I be, waiting for a conference call. *BOONG* Inbox pings. It will be another five to ten minutes, apparently.

I watched half of the Pervert's Guide to Cinema yesterday. Interesting. But I don't want to get into that now.

I'm just sitting here, questions, paper and pen ready, waiting for a call and thinking of sex. I've been like this since as long as I can remember. But I feel as though, contrary to last year's fears, I'm approaching some kind of peak, where I know with more certainty what I want and how to get it. Only my own fears hold me back.

And there's the call...

And the guide. I love Zizek