Genevieve
	Waking	Sleeping	Sign	Repose	Wish
	The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...

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Emma, Iguana, one day more...
2001-06-08 - 3:30 p.m.

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving...

So, I'm driving home from work yesterday, kinda sleepy, singing along to songs from Les Mis, and I turn to look left and I see an iguana. Yep, folks, that's right, I'm not making this up... there, hanging out of the passenger side window of a black BMW 325i is a big iguana, maybe 4 feet long or so, three feet out the window, on the paint, tail and other foot inside for balance, I assume, and he's just sitting there in the breeze. And he's looking at me. The owner is blissfully unaware of my fascination with the big iguana hanging out the window. I rub my eyes, pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, and I'm not. The iguana is still there, I swear. So the light changes and the cars start to move, and the iguana just hangs there in the breeze, his little comb waving in the wind, with an almost iguana grin on his little iguana face... if such a thing can be imagined.

In the rain the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me for ever and forever...

So, as previously mentioned, I finally finished reading Jane Austen's Persuasion and started Emma. I really enjoyed Persuasion but it is obvious that it is one of her earlier novels. It isn't as smooth and doesn't flow as well, but interesting story nonetheless. I hope to rent the movie this weekend. But now, I have already seen the A&E version of Emma, as well as accidentally subjecting Alan to the Gwenyth Paltrow version of it. And it was then that I discovered that if I loved Alan, I would never, never subject him to Jane Austen again... So, I knew a bit about the story going into it, which I didn't with Persuasion. But, oh is Emma such a frustrating creature. It makes me quite glad that for the most part, there is not as much snobbery and society today. At least not in my world. Never would I give up seeing a friend just because they married a man of lower status, neverminding the fact that he was amiable and respectable, and a well read hard working man. Sigh, very different times... Sometimes I just don't understand the Regency era, and the folks who lived in it. Several times I think "Why doesn't she just write to him? Instead of sitting around pining and waiting?!?" It is extremely frustrating to think about sometimes. But then again, Marianne in Sense and Sensibility did take that leap of heart and independance and got burned by it. sigh, different times indeed...

There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.

Here they talked of revolution.
Here it was they lit the flame.
Here they sang about `tomorrow'
And tomorrow never came.

...

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain goes on and on.

Phantom faces at the window.
Phantom shadows on the floor.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.

So, everyone chose yesterday and the day before to dwell on the idea and reality that is war. War poetry from the World Wars... I've never known the reality that is war, not in my day. The Gulf War was too far away and only televised that it seemed like one of the many TV shows that are on now. My younger sister was a "war" bride, although in these times she would technically be a "peace-keeping mission" bride. sigh. Luckily, everything turned out alright, but the idea that my brother-in-law had to sleep in his hummer with it surrounded by barbed wire each night is horrific. I can't imagine, and yet what I do imagine scares me. I know that there are things worth fighting for, there is no doubt to that. But in the current age, there are war video games, and such that when it does happen, it doesn't seem real. And even in the current middle ages, war is fun. War is camping and comraderie and hanging out with old and new friends, and clashing battles, and war songs, but everyone comes home at the end of it all. There are no permanently slain. At least not from our wars... And for those that are gone... There's a grief that can't be spoken...

I did not live until today.
How can I live when we are parted?

Tomorrow you'll be worlds away,
And yet with you, my world has started!

Will we ever meet again?

I was born to be with you...

One more dawn
One more day
One day more!

So, I've finally gotten sick of the morning radio show, not that it is that bad, but that by using those 20 mins to listen to that babble and commercials, I am missing the opportunity to listen to music I truly love, music that stirs me. So, I pulled the Les Mis CD out, dusted it off and took it with me in the truck. Now, I roll down the windows while I drive and blast the music and sing to my heart's content. Not caring who hears, or what they think or care. Ah, such freedom...

Red - I feel my soul on fire!
Black - My world if she's not there!
Red - The color of desire!
Black - The color of despair!

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