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|Friday, November 11th, 2011|
|Today is a Day of Love
Today is a day of Love. Many gather for Occupy today and my love goes out to them. Some are the 1%. My love goes out to them. Some feel proud of what they have done for our country. My love goes out to them. Some feel angry at what our country has don to them. My love goes out to them. No matter who you are, the blessings you have given, the hatred one may have installed, my Love will go out to you all. My love goes out to the universe, it goes into the earth. It goes out to the corporations against which we fight, my love goes out to the struggling businesses of the world. Rich or poor, angry or hurt, smiling or crying, my love goes out to you, every day. Today is a day of love, so I announce my love. ~Jane's Lotions and Potions
|a delay in posting
I ate chicken THursday. I'm glad i did, but i don't think i'm converting back to omnivore or pescatarian any time soon. I was making my client's dinner the other night,a nd it was fried chicken chucks with bread clumbs with herbs and lemon pepper in it, and it just looked so amazing and smelled fantastic.
I was cooking and doing everything for an hour, the whole time looking at he golden meat morsels I'd created on the plate. It was so perfect. I reached for it and stopped myself. AS i continued to fry other bits of chicken, i remembered what Erik had told me so many times, ant it's not the meat that smells so good, but the seasoning. I tried to ask myself what caused me to stop if i wanted it so bad? Was it fear? was it morals? or did i really just not want it?
my client's food served, i gave in, telling myself just to do it. Do it!
As if my body were not my won, i grabbed a piece and shoved it in my mouth, almost surprised.
"Oh! Whoa - it's in my mouth already. Yep, it's in there. Chew, remember that's what comes next." So focused was i in remembering how to function my mouth that i nearly forgot to notice the taste, the texture. The taste was blander than i had thought it might by. I had forgotten that adding a flavored layer to a it would be like adding color to white paint to make it all go further
|Wednesday, June 29th, 2011|
do i quit my job for a job that doesn't pay me as much by half (whcih is saying something as i get paid fuck all) but would be paying me to be a full time writer?
|Saturday, June 18th, 2011|
This morning I'm questioning my reality. it's 12:43pm and I'm saying morning because in my realtiy right now it is still morning. And i'm questioning it.
A co worker of mine has put me off an Author, Michael Pollen for a long time, mainly because she keeps quoting him, and the things which she is quoting completely contradicts everything I've been studying in regards to nutrition. As a result i have ben completely put off from him, and disregard anything he supposedly says. Then one day it occurred to me that she might be misquoting, taking things she has read and twisting it around to mean that she can eat beef regularly, and that cooking vegetables does not in fact decrease their nutritional value. A lot of people take what I say and twist it. When I, a vegetarian, say that beef is not good for you meaning that if you have the option, go for a bird of some sort, people take the words and twist it into vegetarian promotion and tell me i'm preaching and that it's good to eat meat. So finally, I bought a Michael Pollen book - two in fact: The Botany of Desire
and The Omnivore's Dilemma
. I'm a good way into the former, which is about how plants treat us as honey bees, so to speak. By appealing to our desires, plants have been able to get us to do what they need. Not just plants either, he uses the example of the domesticated Dog opposed to the Wolf. He talks about the people he's met along the way, describing them from their eye color to their accent, and I realized that he's not a Nutritionist, He's a journalist. I sought out the "about the author" and sure enough, It says nothing about him studying nutrition but just having written for the New York Times.
I felt like laughing. All this time I thought there was some wonkie nutritionist out there who was preaching McDonald's endorsed slogans, and so I, without having delved into any of his works, and have been turning my nose up at him. My reality altered. He is merely a journalist asking questions enough to produce books. Good or bad, right or wrong, he's only reporting what other people are telling him.
Within my course, there is a "Book Club", where people can share the books they've been reading in relation to what we've been studying. Michael Pollen comes up alot, and I wonder that if he is just a journalist, how much of what he writes should we be taking seriously? not that i'm saying journalists shouldn't be taking seriously, but if we are writing a paper say along the lines of The Botany of Desire
, should we use his book as a guide more than say going and studying under and anthropologist and a botanist, or rather, several, and maybe even throw in a chemist in there? Vs say Patrick Holford, author of The Optimum Nutrition Bible
, who is also a British Nutritional Therapist?
I know there's an incomplete thought somewhere in there, and I am restraining heavily on advancing my opinion on a vegetarian, mainly because I'm over the debate of it.
But As far as my reality goes, my reality is currently that I'm laid up again, approaching my second week off work on L and I due to a back injury, the second one in just under a year, and I can't write - this is the first time I've written in just about four weeks. My co-worker is harassing me and taking it personally that I'm off work, and my dr wants me to go on walks to help my back, which I also want to do because I'm getting cabin fever. However, due tot he harassment my coworker is giving me, I'm afraid to go for walks as said coworker lives just up the road from me, and I'm afraid of her seeing me and raising more hell in my direction.
But the main issue of my reality is that I can't write. I want to write, fill my future self in on all that has gone one, as I know alot has gone on that I might find important, and I need to just get it out, instead of it allow to be quarantined within myself and fester into that ooz of negativity, which will only seep through my pores. But I can't bring myself to do it. I can't sit at a table long enough to write out my thoughts in my book - typing isn't enough. there's not enough connection for it to be enough. My back hurts too much to support me upright in a chair. I can slouch on the couch with computer on my lap, but I can't write in my journal. And it's driving me insane.
At least one part of my reality has changed, and that is that Michael Pollen in a journalist. And in a silly, immature way, that brings me alot of joy.
|Friday, March 11th, 2011|
|Writer's Block: I wanna be just like you
Was there ever a fictional character who you admired so much that you strived to be like him or her?
Scarlette O'Hara. not that i want to be some spoilt southern slave owner, but she is reasonable, and passionate about the things she loves, direct, logical, and she provides for her own, no matter what that means. she picked cotton and vegetables when all the rest complained it was "field hand work", and she made sure there was food in every one's mouths, including her loyal slaves, who at this time were free. she is a strong woman. very inspiring.
by the way, for the record, Gone with The Wind is not a love story, it's a tale of survival
|Monday, September 20th, 2010|
You held, cupped in your coupled hands, promises. pools of silent, unspoken or fathomed words which held meaning: promises. Within your cupped hands - hands which could turn to the strenuous labor should need be, but instead were delicate with the silence, delecate with the insinuations, which you gently blew across my eyelids, into my smearing tears, to my stained cheeks, to be absorbed.
of course, you don't see them. you don't understand the concepts, the ideas, the future you described to me with the simple in and out of your breath, the caress of your hand on mine, the simple returning of your metephorical seed which you told me the story of, the promise that it would be planted, to grow and loom into an old oak until it became too heavy for its own branches, and eventually, hunderds of years down the line, the wind would knock it down. The seed, which would be our beginning. The wind to be our end.
Or did you forget?
An Acorn, a book, a make-shift four leafed clover - just things you find of particular interest to share, but to me convey secret meanings and hopes. The clover brought me no luck, i never used those recipes, and i am hesitent to plant the acorn. You have turned yoru gifts of sweetness and perhaps - perhaps - love? into wasted space, uncertainty, considerable food for a winter fire. Do you know? At least you do know that i will always keep them. In my little box of precious things, i will keep them. Along with the memories you and your nearest presented to me, the glass heart you bestowed unto me, and the thousands of words written with you at their core.
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where did you go?
Where are you?
|Monday, August 23rd, 2010|
Isn't that what Bowie said? or perhaps it was "let's dance". But I infinitely prefer "just dance". I've recently made that into my facebook political views and religious views (because we all know that facebook is all that is truth). Of course, the religious views were altered from "I believe in the Universe" to "Dance!" I still of course believe in the Universe, if not the outer Universe, then my own innerverse. How can I not believe what I perceive as reality (as all perception is created of a warped and melded offspring of our outer senses and inner preconceived ideas)? well, i suppose social programming and all that -
but this is about dancing!
I've had the dance in me. For a long time. I can't seem to shake it out. When I stroll down the road listening to my iPod, I really have a difficult time - and excruciatingly
difficult time - not dancing down the side walk, Christopher Walken
style. All I want to do is see how far I can get dancing and grooving before my legs fail me and I collapse due to lack of oxygen. I walk into rooms and wait for conversation to cease so I can get my piece in, and while I wait I do a little waiting dance. While stood in a living room or my bedroom thinking about what I need to grab for the day before I head out, I dance. There's a rhythm in my head that wants to be acknowledged!
I went to the free dubstep night at Rumors last night, and I had a good time. I danced, and danced, and danced some more, then continued to dance even though my face was quite red and perspiring. DANCE! DANCE! DANCE! My back is tweaked from Saturday, minor miscalculation on my part, but still adding to my back issues, but I grooved and moved to the beats and the sounds and the noise, feeling the building pain but dancing through it regardless.
This morning, I hurt. I hurt so much. It hurts to reach up into cupboards, to turn my head, to stoop to lift my back, to sit in most positions, yet through the day, I have danced. A few friends came over for a brief visit, and through our conversing I fought the dance in me, though only halfheartedly. As soon as they left my music went louder and I imagined myself back in the bar last night, at Meltdown, in the shower, anywhere! - that I had all the room I needed and I continued. Though my sides ache, my shoulders are tight, and my general back hardly has the strength to hold me when I dip back, I dance through it.
Bah-humbug to physical therapy.
|Sunday, August 22nd, 2010|
|red sauce, red wine
when you have pasta, or anything involving the color red - red sauce, red meat, red cabbage (i'm not certain on the cabbage, it was just the only thing i could think of that was red one might commonly come across), you have red wine with it. when it's white meat or a white sauce, you generally have white wine. if it's a desert, a light brunch or lunch you might have yourself a blush or a rose.
that's if you're proper.
i lack being proper. i can be, but who wants to be proper on a daily basis? i like my wine red. all the time. if i have something stronger, i like it to be vodka or gin. something clear. if i have anything else, it's beer. if i can afford it, beer in a bottle (i spill less that way if i'm dancing, and cans go warm too quickly).
but as it stands, it's red wine. I have three crates of wine, one of which is red, and that's what i'm going for first.
I find myself eating today more out of "i should" rather than "i'm hungry". And there's wine which wants drinking and it's past the yardon or something - i could could never get that phrase right. I tear off teh wrap, twist the screw into the cork, pull it out and listen to the the satisfying pop. I take our one wine glass and begin pouring. The rising pitch of the gligging and the rich color of the wine spilling into the glass suddenly sickened me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a bell ringing, remembering listening to each glass my mother poured. It suddenly felt wrong, felt disgusting. I felt paranoid, desperately wondering "is this ok? can i have this glass of wine by myself?"
I thought of walter. Walter has wine by himself. Why shouldn't i? he's in control. why do i suddenly feel desperately out of control? It's not like i have a glass every night. Last night i didn't. last night i had mango chutney and rice crackers. That's not wine. it's not even liquid.
why does this glass scare my so much so suddenly? i'm not my mother. I know i'm not my mother. I have done what i've always done with life: i've observed. I've observed how this liquid has become her chain, and i know that it won't become mine. did you read that right? just in case, i'll write it again. i KNOW it won't become mine. I have mental and emotional chains without adding metaphorical physical ones.
I put the bottle down, and look at it in disgust.
"i don't want it," i say aloud. The cats crunch down on their catty food in reply.
Somehow, just some how, with my penne pasta and jarred tomato sauce, i sit down at the computer to enjoy something to watch while i eat. And somehow, the glass of wine has followed.
|Thursday, June 17th, 2010|
I was talking to Walter earlier. we were talking about marriage and what it's about. His opinion is that it should be private if at all, and that it's completely unnecessary. Marriage is something actually i've always contemplated - especially in recent years what with all my friends getting married and what not. Why was it done to begin with? sure no it's all legal stuff and taxes, but what about before then?
marriage is an "i love you so much i give you everything. this is my devotion and dedication, that I am yours for as long as i live" while the other person reciprocates.
"but even to say 'I love you' is to put limitations on love," Walter retorted. "'I love you for... doing the dishes,' instead of just 'I love', which is far more unconditional."
But just to say "i love" is yes, unconditional and limitless, but to say "I love you" can also be unconditional and limitless, though directed in one catagory Even the Universe has infinite limitations within its limitlessness. As some one pointed out to me, while numbers are infinate, you can limit which numbers - for example, prime numbers, or odd numbers. while it poses some limit, its infinity within the limit. I"m not wording this very well, and i'm certain there's a term for this.
I once read a depressing fact (observation, rather), then found that i agreed with it, though the romantic in me tries to differ from it. Walter brought this point up as well - we do not love a person. We love how a person can or does make us feel with their existance. In my mind I argued this over and over - if that were the case, then why would we bend over backward to make the person we love happy? because their happiness brings us happiness.
So, to be of the most accuracy, instead of saying "I love you", "You cause me to love." It's less intimidating, more complimentary, and presenting oru love for said person as a gift on their part, to you. A gift which says they have opened your heart to the highest level of happiness.Surely you would not run away from some one who said "you cause me to smile"?
While writing this out though, i have finally allowed the romantic in me to level up slightly. If we do not love the person, but rather how said person makes you feel, then why does it hurt you to know your loved one is hurting? But then again, i suppose it's the same as when a loved one would go away, that you would hurt. The feeling they bring is like a drug, and if they're hurting, their energy is not the same, and the drug is taken away.
i could very well be pesemistic. blame walter, he brought it up. lol
|Saturday, April 3rd, 2010|
until the 6th only, enter the code EASTER and you can get 20% off my paperback, hardcover, and e-book of Breaching Worlds
as well as 20% off my new compilation of short stories, Breath Of WindBuy my Books Here!
|Tuesday, March 30th, 2010|
i have an ebook version of my story! now available in paperback, hard cover and ebook on lulu, and paperback at village books!Buy my book!
|Thursday, March 18th, 2010|
I don't know what I think any more. I was on a role with reality, having a firm latch to it's arm. But while I held tight, my eyes were shut as keenly as my grip held, and I just went along with it.
Now I've let go of the arm, Reality has gone on without me, and my eyes are open. Which is worse? To wander, lost but aware, or to be guided blindly?
What does Reality look like? I see Reality similar as to how one would see the Grim Reeper - a cloaked, skelital figure, whisking through the world. The cloak is not black or White as the Reeper's may be, but a flowing window to the Universe, taking on a new shape with each gust of wind.
This figure is a giant, a deity which the masses worship and cower before, cling to and hide from.
Ah, Devine Reality.
|Saturday, March 6th, 2010|
March 15th i'm meant to be on a plane to take me back to wales. I'm not going to do it, unfortunately. I can't. Not so much i can't but i don't think im ready to go back. I will go back at some point, yes, but this is a bit too soon. I'm torn either way as to where i want to be, Bellingham or Wales, but at the end of the day, i have a job here, whereas i don't in wales. And if things don't work out in Wales, i have to save up to come back again, and im a little afraid of getting stranded.
So what am i doing instead?
Well, I'm still working at Access Living, and really enjoying it. I genuinely didn't think i would enjoy working here, but now that i'm doing it, I can't believe i've been working this job for six months already! I'm insured with medical and dental, and i've been here long enough to get my first pay raise with the company, which is pretty exciting. And, also having decided to stay, i've been given more hours - of course not as a result, it just happened nicely like that. So as soon as this new lady is trained up, I'll be working 40 hour weeks, which i'm happy about, though i'm still looking to make some extra pennies however i can, which means im on the look out for a second job. Hopefully i can sort out my work schedule eventually so that i'm only doing a 4 day week, which leaves me more possabilities for extra work.
However, along that note, i discovered, or rather, I got move involved with Lulu.com
. This is a book-buying site which is also provides affordable self-publishing. So, as of now you can buy my FIRST NOVEL, Breaching Worlds
or you can download it. Which is obscenely exciting for me.
Not only that, but i went to Village Books and they said they'd do a consignment, which (i didn't know this) means they'll take my book for 3 months and see how it sells. if it sells, i get moneys and they continue to stock it, if it doesn't then i get my books back and i'll probably have to wait to harass them at a later date, or find another book store willing to venture a chance on a new author. So, while i want people to try and buy my book online so that i can generate more "hits" (i think this is how it works) so it comes up more often at random with lulu ads, I also want people to get it from village books so that it is continued to be stocked.
I'll keep people posted as to when it's actually in the shop. eep!
Also, i'm thinking i might look into getting a student loan and working on getting my Bachlors, Master's and PhD in Philosophy in Holistic Health
. it's only $10k for all three, which i think is pretty good. It's through the Global College of Natural Medicine
which is the same people i got my Master Herbalist diploma through, resulting in me getting a $1500 discount on the next course i sign up for. yay!
Things kind of seem to be lining up for me, I'm being far more productive than i think i've ever been. its kind of a nice feeling.
|Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010|
support me! until march 31st you can buy my book, Breaching Worlds
for 10% off. just hit buy, and then type in IDES where the coupon thing goes. BUY MY SHIT! BUY MY SHIT! BUY MY SHIT!
|Monday, March 1st, 2010|
|Sunday, January 17th, 2010|
|Saturday, January 2nd, 2010|
So yet another New Year under the belt and as always , I co
e across the question: "So! What's your New Years resolution?" I've come to the conclusion that I loath this question almost as much as I dispise the manditory Order of Christmas. Though, in spite of this, I suppose I shall adhere to the tradition.
The past year has left me fairly contented; I remained fairly healthy in diet and excercise having resisted meaty temptations and taken to bike riding, walking and yoga in the morning (the last couple months excluded); worked very hard on focussing on what's good for me mentally emotional (which may have caused me to become slightly selfish but I can sort that out); I got my nose peirced, though that wasn't a major goal of mine. I said I was going to pull myself out of the rut I'd fallen into - I think that I managed that though the results I'm sure are yet to be seen. I succeeded in getting out of the service industry which was an incredible feat for me as it's the only work I've ever known.
I finished my course, achieving a Master Herbalist Diploma - thus conquering the first step to getting my PhD in Holistic Healing. That's a big one.
I dreaded my hair and have kept them for a full year (and counting) and once again feel the need to bring up that I've gone without non-fishy meat for over a year (also still counting).
With my plans for the next year I feel slightly like I'm taking a step back. However, while I could lol at the situation as to retreating into an almost comfort zone, I could also look at having gone to gain an experience and my return has lead to be able to reflect and analyze my experience to better learn from it. However, further experiences at home have lead me to realize just how much of a hold the red dragon has over me, that one can truly love their captor. And I assure you I am making no references to any opium derivatives.
But because my plans for the year require what could be viewed as a step back, how can I make a realistic goal for myself? I can't really. So instead I tell myself to stop bring such a slacker, quit letting people walk over me in work, do what makes me smile, and smile anyway. Write more and keep takibg steps to where I need to go.
Very broad and vague goals but hopefully that leaves slot of room for me to aconplish them.
Happy New Year 2010
|Monday, October 26th, 2009|
If i were an essay, i'd be entitled "why I'm pissed off: a delve into the let downs provided by a flawed system".
As i may or may not have said, i got a cat scratch on the back of my right hand below and between two knuckles. it wasn't even a scratch so much as the claw broke the skin and exited from the same entry point, leaving nothing more than a freckle-like dot. I was experiencing an adrenal rush when it happened, so i don't really remember how it felt when it happened, but i know that later my hand was really hurting, though i couldn't understand why as this "scratch" hadn't even drawn blood.
Well, the next day, i discovered part of my middle finger was numb, going a bit into my right ring finger. Also, my hand was still aching.
I did nothing until a week later. It was still hurting, and it was effecting my job, as i couldn't close my fist entirely or grip things as i should be able to. I coulnd't move my hand quickly or with any jolting movements without it hurting. So i began calling around to free clinics, asking about walk in clinics and what have you. Well, the free clinic said that i needed to see some one right away, but that i couldn't go there as they weren't taking any one new. The walk in clinic costs between $100-$150 to go to, which i don't have.
So as advised by my sister, i went to the Er after work one night, and was going to apply for the Bridge Assistance, which i have done. I saw some one to tell them what was wrong with me, then another person to talk to about what to do about it. I was told the feeling probably wouldn't come back, "but then again, God might let it" (direct quote). She was more focused on the numbness than the pain, and for the latter instructed me to take two over-the counter-pain killers, Aleve, a day. that was it. Then she gave me a Tetnis shot.....what?
So i left within an hour including waiting time, and filled out the forms when i got home.
I turned in my application today, but not after recieving the bill for my visit: $494.36 - that's how much my ten minute talk with the doctor and a tetnis shot costs. $500!!!!!!
I'm hoping my bridge assistance thing goes through.
However, some new things have come to light:
Part of the reason i'm still doing the job i'm doing even though i'm not particularly fond of it is the medical insurance. I need it. i seem to break left right and center, and i need to be able to go to the doctor about it. But i've recently been informed that it's $500 to start it up. a $500 start up fee so i can get medical insurance. If i had that much to start it up, then i'm sure i'd have enough to pay for it without getting it through the company.
Another friend also informed me that i'll be recieving another bill from the hospital as they pay me for the actual hopital time, which was what i've just been billed for, as well as another one to see a doctor. how messed up is that???? so i'm actually going to be paying more than my origonal outlandish bill. what's more, the bridge application thing only actually covers the first bill, but won't cover the second one. so i might have to pay whatever else is coming to me regardless.
i"m in a situation right now where i'm having to borrow some money to make rent. i'm not a happy rich panda. i'm a cold, pissed off, broke panda.
all i seem to get out of people is "yeah, well, that's just the way it is, get used to it". no! surely something needs to be done about this bullcrap!
another thing pissing me off is that i'm going to church with my client. i actually had no problems with it. but recently, the paster's begun telling us that each and every single one of us is broken. We're broken and we are incapable of fixing ourselves, and that the only way to fix ourselves is through the church. How can you tell that to people? aren't they supposed to be encouraging inner strength? why beat people down? what's more, last night's sermon was all about "lies" and how one of the ultimate lies was "god grades on a curve", being that if you do nothing but nice things and are deep down inside a good person, that that will be enough. But acroding to the paster, it's not enough. becuase by that mentality, we're comparing ourselves to those in hell, instead of god and jesus, and that we will never be able to compare to God and Jesus because they are the object of perfections and there's no way we can equate to that.
I was so mad at this i was litterally fighting the urge to stand up and yell at him and throw things at him and to tell him to shut up! and thats not me! i try so hard to be respectful, but how can you when they're telling you that no matter how hard you try you're going to amount to nothing. You can't help youself, therefor you can't help any one else because we're all broken. you can do all the good deeds in the world but it will never be enough.
what makes me most mad is that people swallow this, and believe this. they let themselves get beat down by this. why? how? i don't get it! what i want to know is what can i do to help them, to convince them that that's not the way.
if peopel believe this then they're just going to think "well, what's the point?" and concinue to look after number one, and unsucessfully becuase they won't be trying to help themselves because they're so broken they're incapable of it!
the problem with people thinking only of "number one" is that they alienate those around them.we have pack mentality, whether we're aware of it or not. we ned outside help as well as inward help. when we find ourselves alone is when we find ourselves whithering away.
the past week has been one whole "piss nicola off" week.
|Wednesday, August 5th, 2009|
|Writer's Block: Two Truths and a Lie
Post two truths and a lie about yourself as an answer to Writer's Block. Have people guess which is the lie in the comments.
I classify crocodile/allegator as a fish so i can eat it (i'm a pescatarian).
I really enjoy reading books on metaphysics and mind expantion and hellucinogenics.
I have completed writing several novels.
|Sunday, August 2nd, 2009|
Putting pen to paper. i have an idea for a species i hope to create and of course, a world around it. It's proving to be more difficult than i thought. I feel as though i need to talk to to some LARPers or at least table toppers in order to gain a better idea of how to go about it. that in itself is not a difficult feat as all my friends are one of the other, or both.
however, this is causing me to reflect upon my own life in a way that i'm not ready to face. I'm not quite sure what it is. but in me is the russling of a deep nostalgia, though i have issues understanding what it is that i'm feeling nostalgic about. I feel longing, though i'm not sure what i long for. i want a change but i don't know in what part of me that i need to change. I want to write but i seem to have lost the inspiration.
i'm just lost at the moment. where did my direction go? did i even have it to begin with or was it hte illusion of direction which i blindly followed in my desperation. i hope continents on a whim and i don't understand why, only that that thing
inside me demands it so.
I've been contemplating returning to Wales. I have a return ticket for october, which i could take advantage of. I want to.
I came home because i was broken. i needed jordy to glue me back together. i needed to know that the world was not a bad place, that there are havens, and oh yes, bellingham is a haven. it strikes me as extremely unfortunate that people are too involved or untraveled to udnerstand that there is no place in the world as glorious as this town.
my peices are in the process of beign glued back together, but every now and then the wind blows a few to teh ground, and they break slightly more, requiring more work. I'm not sure i can be fixed by october. I think i proved that to myself last night. I'm really a wreck when i can find falt in my haven.
i've fortoggen who i am. sometimes i stop and can't actually figure it out. more often than not i can't figure it out. there are rare moments of clairity, but as i've said, they're rare. I know what i'm not, which i suppose is a start. just because something is not blue doens't mean it's yellow.
this is a fairly nonsensicle entry. just meaningless typing for the sake of typing.