Saw the movie Hero last night. Such a beautiful film. Probably a little melodramatic, but I don't think such a film could be made any other way.

I don't know what's wrong with me these days, but I've been an emotional mess. Crying (or wanting to) at the drop of a hat. My hormones have gone crazy.

I was watching a comedy show at Alex's house and they were using a monkey as part of the skits and I finally couldn't take it anymore. My heart was ripping in half for the poor animal.

In Chapters, before the movie, I was reading The Dance by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I was captivated by the cover: "What if the question is not why am i so infrequently the person I really want to be, but why do i so infrequently want to be the person I really am?" Tears welled in my eyes and I began walking around in a daze. I didn't know how to explain it to Alex and I'm sure he thinks I'm a freak (although he is endlessly endulgent with me). I was just so suddenly and so completely affected by the words.

It is small wonder, then, that this movie also affected me with its beauty.

I feel that there is a place inside my chest that is like a soft sponge, engorged to the choking point with emotion. At times it becomes too much for my chest to hold, and the sponge, squeezed, causes eruptions of emotion. Eruptions that I feel ill-equipped and ill-inclined to explain.

It's been an odd weekend.

On a lighter note, Alex got a new apartment and it's perfect and I'm jealous of and happy for him. It's right in the fashion district downtown (where I used to live and work) - a happening, artsy spot in which I'll be happy to take advantage of in my frequent visits.

I also bought another Jack Johnson CD as well as a David Gray CD. Listening to David Gray now. A contented smile is creeping across my face as the fiery sun sets outside the window behind me.