Remember the Tinman

There are locks on the doors
And chains stretched across all the entries to the inside
There's a gate and a fence
And bars to protect from only God knows what lurks outside

Who stole your heart left you with a space
That no one and nothing can fill
Who stole your heart who took it away
Knowing that without it you can't live

Who took away the part so essential to the whole
Left you a hollow body
Skin and bone
What robber what thief who stole your heart and the key

Who stole your heart
The smile from your face
The innocence the light from your eyes
Who stole your heart or did you give it away
And if so then when and why

Who took away the part so essential to the whole
Left you a hollow body
Skin and bone
What robber what thief
Who stole your heart and the key

Now all sentiment is gone
Now you have no trust in no one

Who stole your heart
Did you know but forget the method and moment in time
Was it a trickster using mirrors and sleight of hand
A strong elixir or a potion that you drank

Who hurt your heart
Bruised it in a place
That no one and nothing can heal
You've gone to wizards, princes and magic men
You've gone to witches, the good the bad the indifferent

But still all sentiment is gone
But still you have no trust in no one

If you can tear down the walls
Throw your armor away remove all roadblocks barricades
If you can forget there are bandits and dragons to slay
And don't forget that you defend an empty space

And remember the tinman
Found he had what he thought he lacked
Remember the tinman
Go find your heart and take it back

Who stole your heart
Maybe no one can say
One day you will find it I pray
-T. Chapman

I remember singing that song to Glenn. How horrid that it now applies more to me than it ever did to him. Gah.

I was called "...just so cute" yesterday by a guy on the street. He was on a scooter and had a very happy black lab on a leash. I was looking and feeling like crap--hauling two small tables to my place from my garage in way humid weather in crap-clothes for painting. I was also being very annoyed by the overly cute Schmoopie-esqe couple a couple steps ahead of me on the sidewalk. What the hell do men see in the helpless, whiney wenches they seem to be so attracted to?? This is usually the norm, I have noticed, which is why the scooter-guy threw me so off--I was thinking this same thought as he doubled-back (he had been scooting in the opposite direction of myself) and caught up with me. He seemed nice enough. Younger than myself (which was why being called "cute" by him was flattering), but short and so skinny, I would fear breaking him.

Anyway, yeah, he had a scooter and a very happy dog named Chewbacca, but I am so not into dating and am so angry, I turned down his plea for dinner and a movie. The fact I remember his dog's name and not his is a pretty sad sign, if you ask me.

Oh well. blah, I say, BLAH. See, I am apparently attractive. So, these decisions to not date are exactly that--a decision. I just don't want to at all. At least not with the options that present themselves. My door to dating is wide open on the off chance that Karl Urban decides to pop on over, or, as previous rants show, Don Wood.

Speaking of Karl, yeah, they tried to ugly him up for Riddick, but his amazing, dazzling good looks and twinkly eyes and heart-shaped mouth still came through. They mangled his voice though...getting rid of his amazingly adorable Kiwi accent and dropping it an octave or two. Oh well. Had to go home and watch Price of Milk and ...Truth About Demons to make up for it. Friends tell me that there were other things going on in that film when Karl wasn't on the screen...if so, I am unsure of what *laugh* Naaaah. I am not that bad. I still have my wits about me.

...too much, according to some.

Night!