The range of illumination:

"...are you ready to rock?"

She recently told me that it might be I have a hard time letting myself really care about most things.
I don't know for certain - I do know I care passionately about a few select things, but that's not the same.

"And I don't need to hear your stories again -
just get on the floor and show me what you're made of."

Forgive me if I mentioned this before, the ergot-colored lenses are still clearing from the night - when I visited Greece last year, we were going to see the Acropolis. You know, it's this big fucking hill in the middle of Athens, with all of these beautiful things of unparalleled historical and symbolic significance(esp. for THIS VERY ANECDOTE). I was in much worse shape than I am now, and while with a stunning tourguide, the pollution and heat bothered me some, to the point where I sat down at one point and reconsidered going to the Acropolis.

And then, it struck me: What the...Why the Hell am I here?
I'm in Greece. I'm going to see the fucking Acropolis.

"And have you ever stopped to ask yourself?
if you didn't come to party, then why did you come here?"

So yeah?
Why the Hell am I here?
If I didn't come to party...then why did I come here?