Whether Texas Exists

I had a pretty enlightening weekend with my friends. It was my eighteenth so we went up to my lake cabin and spent a few nights there. It was a lot of fun and we had some pretty deep conversations... :P

Anyway, I'd like to share with you now a little nugget of wisdom granted us by Katherine, who had previously misheard one of my thoughts about travel, being in the kitchen, and when she reiterated what she'd thought I said, it was so far off, and yet so mind blowingly perfect, we wrote it down on a piece of napkin.

I've never been to Texas, she said, although this could work with any place you've never personally visited: Timbuktu, Venice, the Hanging Gardens of Babilon...

I've never been to Texas, so it's not a place that truly exists to me. It is just a place I think about existing.

The reason I write that here is to immortalize it, in case I ever lose the napkin. It is such a crazy theory, like the "If a Tree Falls in the Forest" one. Of course we know Texas exists. We know people who have personally been there. But it has never been proved to us that it does.

QED it does not truly exist. To us, at least. Sure, it exists to the Texans and all those who have visited the state. But to us it is only an idea, at least until it is realized.

Makes you think, huh?

Makes you scoff, then makes you think.

I mean, REALLY think about it. Mind boggling.

Why Texas?

I don't know. I suppose I should put in some place more romantic. Like Venice.

I've never been to Venice, so it's not a place that truly exists to me. It's only a place I think about existing.

See? Totally works. That one gave me shivers.

Bittersweet

My last night in Paris. It's crazy that I've been in Europe for two weeks already and now I'm just going home. I loved it, though. It's beautiful and loud and old here and I can honestly see myself living here one day.
This vacation has also given me a much needed break from the total crap that was going on in the states. It's given me time to stew and think and realize that I honestly don't really care, you know? I guess I knew from the start that it wasn't going to last (I mean, really... and I was getting these bad feelings anyway) and I'm sort of certain there's some karma going on here, for the bad way I've treated guys in the past. Besides, there's that maturity issue that always bothered me anyways.
My knight of cups is on his way to me.
And he's not the person who kissed me the night before I left... uhh...
So, Paris has let me forget (and given me a dash of self confidence... the men here aren't afaid to stare if they think you're pretty) and relax. I also got a serious tan, which isn't the first thing I'd assume I was going to get, but between trekking the city under the hot sun every day and strolling the totally shadeless gardens of Versailles, those UV rays have done their job.
Speaking of Versailles, I feel like i've been there before. The whole time I kept thinking "I've walked these halls... I've visited this room..." It's not all surprising, I suppose. Everyone who was anyone moved to Versailles with Louis XIV so if I was in France and nobility, or even a servant, in that century in a past life, chances are I was there, too.
But that might be my imagination running completely rampant.
In any case, I will miss it here and I've decided to bring back Dette and Vieve. They'd like London more, I think...
I started my new story, inspired very much by the area around Honfleur but set in Scotland-- I've never been to Scotland... that and Italy are my next European goals. The story's got supernatural in it, as always. I think someday I should try to write something that could plausibly happen, but I think I shy away from it because I run to writing when I want to escape reality, you know? So any story without a hint of the fantastic doesn't hold my interest for long. Just a personal preference. I know a lot of people, including my father, who would rather read a non-fiction or realistic fiction novel over one with magic or monsters.
I'm a bit of a juxtaposition in that I love books like Abarat but cannot stand most books under the "Fantasy" section in the library. It makes shopping for me difficult but... eh. I'll buy my own books. Get me a certificate to Barnes and Noble.
Whoo... Well. I've been rambling. Not even sure how I got there.
I don't know why I'm doing this blog thing. I have nothing interesting to say. But, I suppose if there are those out there who are actually interested in me or who are voyeuristic and love reading random folks' random inner thoughts, this is the blog for them.
Or, it can be an online diary.
I think I like that.

A Short Apology

My friends have been doing this, so I figured, why not me? I don't really care about followers or anything like that but, as Katherine said, it's a cool creative outlet and maybe it'll get me past some writer's block. I need to start a diary anyway.
Thanks, Katie. You I love.
Um um um...
Oh! I was gonna explain the title of the blog and the address. See, I've been re-reading Clive Barker's Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War for the millionth time. It's my all time favorite book (beats out even Harry Potter, House of Leaves and Riddles of Epsilon) and so when I was trying to quickly think of a title, of course a poem from Abarat came to mind. Its first line is "Do not blame the wind" and goes on to talk about how the wind is just bringing along whatever noises are on it, be them messages of love or war. A sort of don't kill the messenger story. And the Babilonium, from the address bar, that's the name of an island in the book, the carnival island. But the name reminds me of babbling, which is what I'll be doing here. So I used it.
Thanks for being a freakin genius, Clive Barker. I love your work.
So. That's all for now. There's my reason for starting this thing (everyone ELSE is jumping off the bridge) and there's the explanation behind the title.
And that's all for now. No deep thoughts to leave you with, except "Do not blame the wind."