I don't like people. I don't understand people. People don't make sense. Interacting with people is work. Irritating. Shallow. Primitive thinkers. Not all the time. Not everybody. Just generally. People think they're so evolved. Look closer; they are just animals who don't possess the mental capacity to realize how blind and primitive and disgustingly shallow and controlled they are by their biology, environment, tribal us-vs-them pack mentality, traditions, psychological evolution. Think they know everything and make wide stereotypes which are too broad for any of the participants in the group they are talking about. Idiots. Fools. Judgmental, assuming, give me advice and attribute falsehoods to support your undereducated suppositions on my behaviour and actions. You know nothing of me, you know very little about what goes on in the depths of the topics you're trying to blandly and loudly express your biased opinion on, yet try to talk to me. I have no energy to try to show you the foolishness of your argument; "young people" this and "group such-and-such" that, "so-and-so did such-and-such way back when so why can't you do it too," "if someone didn't accomplish such-and-such they just didn't want it bad enough"; everything is *so*blasted*black*and*white* in your puny pathetic brain and there is no room for a person like me to show you there are reasons for this and another side to that and did you ever consider there may be a middle-ground between giving the benefit of the doubt to so-and-so and writing him/her off as an incompetent imbecile.
Ok. How about, everybody, just stop talking to me. Unless you have something logical or helpful or in any way intelligent and not condescending. Do you know how much work it is for me to talk to all of you people? It's none of your business, you, and you, I'm not being your information-giver about them; that's one reason I don't like meeting up with you unless I have to. And you and you both, you told me you would help me with this one thing, and neither of you even remembered it. People just want to take and pull and use and condescend and give advice to make themselves seem empathetic or important, but just parrot the thoughts they picked up from others who know no better.
I'm sick of people. Sometimes when someone inboxes me here in an inappropriate way I have a reason to say what I think and then I have license to really ream into that person. For other people I just deal with their squawking. The neighbour's dog barks incessantly from his backyard, where he can't even see other cars or passers-by; at least I don't have to respond back. Then people squawk at me and I have to follow ettiquette and squawk back in some pre-approved, sc
And the handful of you who are in this city who are supposed to care about me. I'd rather be in plenty of other cities, where at least I'm not constantly reminded that I don't matter very much to you at all.
And you, who got rid of my piano. It wasn't even your house!! You didn't even speak to me about it!! Did you donate it? Sell it? It's almost taboo for me to ask. You all might as well be useless to me. I hate it here. I hate this city. I can't stand it here anymore.
I can't tolerate people. Judgmental, categorizing, malicious, prideful, condescending creeps. Freaks.
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Today I've been continuing my mission of sorting and clearing. There were two gigantic boxes I hadn't looked through in many many years! Aside from normal familiar possessions. These boxes with all those memorabilia, figures, papers, journals, books, school projects. My nerves tense up now and then, so I take a break, get a coffee, check and answer silly questions here. Yet I am making progress and it's somewhat exciting. There are things I don't even remember, things I forgot I had and won't miss, papers I kept because at the time I thought I'd like to go through them all someday (but really they weren't remarkable). It's mildly stressful but the breaks help and it's lovely outside in this city at this time of year.... It also helps that I did recently return from a trip where I felt very happy and it helped me think more clearly & optimistically about the future. Plus, I have a very special friend who is willing to spend time helping me and paying attention to me when I need it, to calm me down and make me feel supported. I feel like things are more manageable when he's around, and a phone call counts. He has power to help me feel calmer even when I don't have the power to help myself feel that way. Thank you.
I still have feelings for you and I’m disappointed to think you’re ignoring me. You are ignoring me, aren’t you? I haven’t received any response to anything I’ve sent. I understand it’s probably easier to get over you if I don’t hear from you at all so that’s something respectable I suppose. Yet am I worth no response at all? What was I?
In my mind I had often referred to you as “my little actor”. (Later I changed it to “my little artist” because an artist performs, yet there isn’t that assumed implication of selfish deceit the word “actor” has, when saying “artist”.) I didn’t fully, one-hundred percent believe in your authenticity toward me; I did one-hundred percent appreciate you & your behaviour however. Whether it was genuine, your indicated fondness for me and “caring for” me, or whether it was an assumed role – a performance – I still appreciated the performance because I was the one being performed for and felt ultimately very respected nonetheless. I needed it at the time; it gave me strength when I certainly needed it. You treated me with so much courtesy and gentleness.
I cared for you, as I’m sure you know. You knew also that I wasn’t completely available. I wonder if that’s why I’m not worth responding to, or whether it’s the long distance. My intuition tells me, however, that it’s really because you never intended to carry on a friendship beyond the walls which separate our northern experience from our regular outside lives. For good reasons I can easily name, admittedly. It’s logical. You’ve moved on. In time I suppose I will too. Yet that also pains me because I don’t really want us to move on and become smoky wisps in each other’s distant memories; I want you to some extent beyond imaginary.
As tempting as it is to ask myself what I did wrong, and as often as I’ve allowed myself the thought that I’m not worth being friends with (because certainly you’re willing to cut me off like this), I understand that this is indeed an ideal situation for both of us. At least from one viewpoint. Mostly from yours. And.. not from all viewpoints...
What goes through your mind? Did you fool me so well? Were you such an excellent actor that I detected no insincerity at all?
There is no drama here. I understand these circumstances and the way our relationship unfolded, at least in part. I just miss you. I know that’s how men are, though. It’s easier for you to move on. I cared for you more than you did for me anyway, and you have a place you feel you belong now again. I hope the best for you. I know you have what it takes to make your dreams a reality. I won’t let go. It’s easy for me to let most people go, but there are a few. If I can’t be your friend, I will think of you as my favourite celebrity: knowing you exist even if I don’t hear from you, that’s still a good thing. (I pensively hope I don’t grow bitter toward you for ignoring and cutting me off like this, however, because it is a bit mean.)
I just learned that, while I was away, the person who had been filling my needs as a companion in this area found a girlfriend. We weren't dating, exactly, before I'd left for part of the summer, but we were spending time together on a regular basis in a mildly romantic context. The idea of intercourse with him turned me off, but we were decent companions. I liked his company. I liked the nature of the interest we took in each other, even though I knew one day I wanted him to find a real, committed, more compatible girlfriend who could offer him what he wanted, needed, deserved, because I could not (our incompatibilities, and my interest in someone else mostly inaccessible to me, etc, prevented me).
Part of me is relieved and sincerely happy that this friend of mine found something more suitable, because I do care, and I feel happy vicariously through his success and knowing he's happy.
It's a bit unfortunate, for myself, that now I've lost my primary source of companionship, social activity, and comfort, in this area. I always felt that going to his place was like a sanctuary, a retreat. The tidiness, quietness, comfort, the peace; his parents liked me. There was simple, healthy food always around, like varieties of fruit. No rushing or reprimanding or indoor storm clouds, no aggressive energy.
Yet my satisfaction at knowing he's successfully pursuing what he wants, and has someone who can fully commit to him, and isn't a dead-end for him, it feels very good to me. He's a decent person and I had too little to offer. He deserves more.
Just a little bit of loss for me. What a strange juxtaposition of emotions.
Hey... Who knows, maybe she's bi too, and now I'll have too people in the area to cuddle with at the same time!! lol. Well, she does want to meet me.
There was an event going on and I sat in on a lecture about tarot cards today. Since there were only six people we were each spoken to specifically. It was fun! It felt like we were all playing, and we were so good at playing that we were taking it so seriously. Stories and imagination are art, and I had a nice time. Apparently we fall into categories, and I'm a "queen of wands", which he said is the best way for a woman to be, and that I work under stress. (Hell yes I do!) He said a bunch of stuff about the card I chose from the deck, too, and said I had physical issues and I should pay attention to eating the right kinds of nutritious foods and recovering. Considering that physical fitness is my most stable priority these days (I do go to the gym every single day, I do cardio and weight training, and I'm a vegetarian, and I buy water jug refills so I don't ingest fluoride or cringe at the taste of my tapwater), I did get a kick out of that card. He said I was a troublemaker (because I smirked and curtsied to the group when he asked me to stand up), and that I have a more devil-may-care attitude than the other "queen of wands" person in our little group. I liked all the stories he told about the others too.
Perhaps I'm easily entertained, because I've gone a long time with very little in the way of entertainment (and I'm like that generally), but it was a fun little make-believe get-together for a half hour or so. And Nyxii got free cookies and dyed sugar water.
Oh hey, a blue jay is sitting outside on the balcony eating the seeds I put out for the birds. They symbolize happiness, don't they? I rarely get to see any this close. How pleasant a little happenstance.
You know, this city is such a fortunate place to reside, offering all kinds of cool events. Plus it's so close to other cities which offer a wealth of events and activities too.
While I was away this summer I picked up a secondhand book about the tarot. The systems of stories drew my playful side. That's why I pursued this today.
I've been having an alright time transitioning back to my civilized life, but it's lacking. I feel a bit depressed. I think it has to do with the abrupt change in social dynamic. The people I came to feel quite a sense of belonging to, and the interrelating every day in a thousand little ways, we all went our separate ways of course. The energy here in this place is rather ... I don't know how to say it, but, roller-coaster-ish. I can't blame anyone because I do understand. Yet the energy here is quite different here in this household situation and I'm not close to anyone here. My closest friends are far away in various places and there's no one I actually want to be around, in this vicinity. It's a bit of an adjustment.
I did want to return and I have a million things to be doing and working on, it's true. This ought to be one of the most exciting times for me, yet I have confusion and am stumbling. It'll take a while for me, as with every change I go through, to accustom myself again. I would certainly not want to go back to where I was, because that's not where my talent lies; I am where I'm supposed to be right now at this time. In my moments of weakness I just need somewhere to express myself I suppose, and here it is: I'm just feeling a little blue.
I'm about to go play some music though, and that's always a source of comfort.
Oh gosh, am I ever glad to be back! Haha... I'm so done with that kind of work! The strange thing is that I felt more at home there than most places I've lived in my lifetime. Perhaps it comes in second place next to California.
Alright, Little Leopard. You've been heard. Now let's go do something productive.
Today I watched The Croods with some of my family members. Well, they watched it and I went upstairs to practice some music; then when it was over and they were playing a card game I watched it in the same room with them in French. Gosh, was it ever entertaining! I was impressed, for a children’s movie.
Still continuing my gym routine. Every day since the last day of March, with the exception of Good Friday. I’m noticing improvements in my capabilities. Not awe-inspiring, but this is just a series of baby steps. “Most people overestimate what they can accomplish in a year, and underestimate what they can accomplish in five.” The time is going to pass anyway, so I might as well do this little habit to improve my quality of life in the long run. And the short term, too. I intensely believe that daily exercise, if it’s intense & long enough, affects the state of our spirit. (More scientifically: think endorphins, and positive thinking, and better brain function & memory retention, and short-term feel-good-ness.)
Yesterday, Sunday that is, I visited a couple relations I don’t see that often. It turned out better than I expected. I’m pleased at the progress my father is making; he doesn’t have that obvious turmoil going on about his past relationship and his children and the situations that occurred which were unpleasant for him to recall. At least, it’s not as close to the surface of his mind anymore. I suppose enough time has passed and he has other things on his mind. Still comes up a little bit but it’s much, much , much easier for me to comfortably handle.
My cousin bore a child recently, in the past few months. The first one of this next generation.
I practiced driving, with my father. I rarely do that, though I’m hoping to do it more often. Gosh, is he ever condescending and impatient! It was not fun, but I was grateful for the practice. I think he caught on to the fact he was being a bit too critical because I indicated it with the tone of my voice in a response. I actually almost wanted to cry from frustration for a few moments. Of course everything having to do with driving seems like second nature to him; he’s been driving for decades and is superb at it. So any lack of fluency I display, especially more than once, is going to seem very silly to him.
I do have to admit though, I understand what it’s like to have not a lot of patience with people. I have always considered it one of my highest flaws (though with little inclination to adjust it). He and I have that in common, so surprisingly I felt empathy, almost unity with the emotion of impatience he displayed in his words and tones of voice. I understood the nature of his frustration. It made me feel a bit better knowing that I’m not the only one who gets unreasonably frustrated/impatient sometimes, and that he was even a little worse at it than I am.
In several more weeks it will be just about time to plant things outside, after the danger of overnight frost passes. There are a few herbs I’d like to see planted, and from experience I know my mother finds it a fun little addition to pull some fresh leaves off and stick them in whatever she’s cooking. We all had a good laugh last year when, after several months a pepper started growing on that poor little pepper plant, and she had been using the leaves from that plant to put into things like soup & eggs & stir fry! She thought it was another herb. It was just a green pepper leaf. (But hey, why not.)
Renewed the subsc
Have a few other things on my mind but I think I’ve mentioned them before and I’m
One really strange thing is that my whole mouth has been tasting really metallic for a couple weeks, maybe a bit longer. Not sure why that is. Perhaps it’s just the new mouthwash. Perhaps the water in this city is a little funny lately. Perhaps even going to the gym every single day is doing it. I’m clueless. It makes me somewhat averse to eating or drinking things, since it’s kinda a strong flavour. I wish someone could give me a suggestion how to make it stop. I sorta thought it was a fluke and would go away by now. Oh well.
Honestly, I don’t do a whole lot these days, but I’m still mildly productive. I suppose I’m in break mode, and in limbo in a few other ways, and it’s a bit strange because I’m one of those people who always feel like they should be doing more, being more, accomplishing more and it’ll never be enough. I feel uncomfortable about not accomplishing more each day, though I do have a list of things to get done and have been working on that.
Still feeling uncomfortable in my own skin because I feel I don’t know where I stand on some issues.
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Sunday she couldn’t resist going for a walk late at night, beckoned by the shining beauty of the moon. She noticed a few stars and remembered how intense the night sky in the desert tended to be, covered with a dense sparkling of stars. The sight of a raccoon midway through her evening stroll drew a nostalgic smile, a bittersweet pain of memory, the joy and youthful excitement at the newness of a relationship so comfortable and compatible they were probably kindred spirits in some other realm before being birthed into this physical human form, this Earthly realm.
Today she knew that her dear moon, the one constant all throughout her life (however transitory) would be going through a lunar eclipse. She tried several times and could not see it through the rainclouds masking the sky. Not even a hint, despite the long walk searching. Luna, or Diana, as she likes to personify the moon, wears a veil sometimes. The knowledge that she’s still there is comfort enough that she doesn’t mind missing this eclipse. After all, she’s never seen one before in her life; and there will be many other opportunities provided she live long enough. She does intend to live long enough.
Friday was spent travelling to a more populous city with the purpose of attending a live performance. Saturday wrapped up about nine hours of playing good old-fashioned board games. She wasn’t concerned with winning or competing as much as with enjoying the free alcohol, chocolate, chips, and company. Lately she still keeps up her daily gym routine, though it’s quite wearying on her body. She wonders whether it’s because she’s a vegetarian, a woman, takes no protein supplements; she seems to be surprisingly worn-out after each session.
Several days ago her letter was returned. She put more postage on it and re-mailed it; then realized it was returned from lack of postage for her country. She was using the wrong country’s postage stamps. It will be returned again and she will mail it correctly. The letter she was promised has not arrived. It has been two and a half weeks. She lives within an invisible shield; an invisible shielding bubble wrapped around her.
Today she picked up some wild bird seed to spread on the balcony. She noticed how delighted her mother gets, watching the pets get all worked up over seeing a squirrel or a bird. This should increase the incidence. She tries to do little things to be a decent family member, even to the pets. It is logical to make family a priority; after all, everyone else in the world idealizes this goal so it must be appropriate to attend to.
The library continues to develop its programs. It now has self-checkout. She feels pride in this remarkable institution; she feels a great wealth that she has access to such a marvelous institution, all for free, not because she deserves it but because she was lucky enough to land within a region which graces their inhabitants with the wealth of resources for personal enjoyment & betterment. Public libraries are among the very best gifts a community can give its members.
She visited the bank today. She continues to feel gratitude for how stable she is financially, for the time being. She can still hardly believe it because she remembers when. She stored some in an investment and intends to get some kind of impressive electronic device. She’s been asking the opinions of her friends who seem to know computers like the back of the hand. She’ll still probably put it off for a while yet; decisions tend to freeze her for a bit.
What she needs to decide most right now though, the most pressing matter, is that of career options. She needs a hand with it, from someone specific; she has solicited advice & thoughts from a few friends and needs advice & thoughts from at least one more. Any decision would be better than no decision; she agonizes over decisions and some guidance, from a respected, trusted, intelligent source, is appreciated. Perhaps she’ll have to wait for it or forgo it, but it sure is easier to be a little dependent on a trusted social network of supportive friends. Independence, while so prized here in the western world, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. She doesn’t want to have to be strong, or smart, or independent so much anymore, not like she used to try to be. Life is better with help.
She wonders if it would be alright to grow her eyebrows out a little. Pulling hairs out of that soft tissue must not be so very healthy for the skin, at this amount; surely being on the natural side of well-groomed couldn’t hurt. Why does she waste time on adorning this avatar, and prepping this avatar, to be so well-groomed in the first place? It’s a waste of time and hardly anyone who cares is going to notice, ever. Just strangers, and their opinion on this matter doesn’t, well, matter.
Too tired .... Goodnight Diana. Beautiful contemporary of my ancestors and my people’s descendents. She is but an augenblick in your existence, but you are the one constant, sure thing in her life, throughout her life and stretching before and beyond. You are better than the currently popular version of deity, because unlike him, you are always going to wind up being there sooner or later, and have shaped all life here on Earth. You are proven to exist and will certainly never disappear or abandon me.
Recently I learned about fluoride. For a long time people have considered it something healthy, preventing cavities; it’s even added to the water supply in many places (which is involuntary mass medication, and immoral, but that’s another point). I guess I’ve known for a long time that not everyone agreed on the virtues of fluoride, but I never made an effort to read up on it until recently. It turns out that it’s not the innocent saviour people make it out to be.
I have decided I would like to make an effort to avoid excess fluoride entering this body I’ve been assigned. After all, these bodies we’re assigned at birth (or before, actually) are our avatars here on Earth. It is logical to look after our avatar as well as possible, since we only get one in this lifetime, and the skills & capabilities & health of this avatar plays such an enormous role in determining our quality & longevity. So, since I believe reducing this body’s exposure to fluoride would increase its health (particularly skeletal, dental, and brain health, and reduction in risk of cancer), I’m going to extend a moderate effort to do so. I have too many priorities and thoughts to have this take up too much of my resources (time and thinking, mostly), so I won’t overdo it.
I’m not really sure how to go about reducing my exposure & intake though, considering that it’s added to the drinking water here. I’m not sure how well a filter would work at taking it out. There are water distilling gadgets, but those are probably pricey and then what other minerals – beneficial ones – would they be removing from the water I’m drinking? And then there’s the social responsibility of informing people I know about my newfound knowledge, since it implicates their health as well. Darn that social responsibility. (While I’m at it, note to everyone: aspartame, in case you didn’t know, is really unhealthy. Carcinogenic. So stop drinking diet sodas, *please*! If you’re going to pollute your body with soda do it with the kind that doesn’t have aspartame. Because sugar might be a little toxic (i.e. reduces immune response, is inflammatory, etc) but aspartame is of a much worse category.)
One other thing I noticed on my leisurely fretting about fluoride, is that chemtrails from airplanes are also something people are concerned about; however, since there’s nothing I can do about that I didn’t bother to seek to be educated all that much about it. Knowledge for its own sake is still worthy, but I have other things I need to do and if I can’t improve the problem I think I’ll put off learning about it for now.
I’m heading out later today to see a live show. For right now I have to head to the gym; I don’t really want to, but by now it’s a routine and it’ll bother me if I don’t wind up going. My muscles are sore and it might be better to tone it down.... Yet, in the long run, I believe it *is* better if I go even though in the short term it would be better to rest, because by going today I am maintaining the integrity of this habit and affirming it in my own mind. It’s best to just do it, so that this habit is further strengthened in the long run.
While we’re on the topic of health, I admit I’ve been back on coffee for a really long while now. I wrote earlier about having quit it for some time. It’s my addiction; I think I’ll always go back to it. The thing is though, that I know it’s bad for my brain. It has been for years. I have been polluting my brain with something that alters its function and development in the long run (and in the short term too). I do believe coffee has some benefits, but I believe those benefits are not worth seeking from coffee. The truth is that I’m addicted and will continue to drink it even though I believe it’s harming me, because it’s easier than trying to quit it (especially permanently). I’m not strong enough for that. I suppose what I *am* capable of, however, is reducing my intake. I’m being honest here. I’m admitting my weakness. I believe that what I’m doing is harming my brain (as well as helping it in some ways, but that’s not something I need from it), and I’m going to just keep doing it anyway. Over the years I might continue this pattern of quitting for a short time only to go back (best predictor of future behaviour is past behaviour). What I do feel capable of is reduction of intake. Just like smoking, a single cigarette in the morning is healthier than chain-smoking all day.... One is healthier than the entire pack each day, even though zero would be better than one.
Sometimes we don’t admit truths to ourselves because it’s too hard, and it would mean accepting responsibility and acknowledging that the right thing to do is change – because we know we are too weak to change at this time. So if we admit a truth but we are too weak to change, then we are knowingly continuing to do something wrong... and that can be extremely uncomfortable. So we don’t admit to ourselves the truth, because we need comfort. But let me tell you something: it’s ok if you’re not strong enough to change something yet. Be truthful with yourself, absolutely truthful, even if you have to add, “but I’m not strong enough to change this thing quite yet (or ever).”
Oh my, there was the prettiest young woman at the gym today. I really wanted to stare at her as I was doing my stretches at the end, but she noticed so I averted my eyes quickly. She was so finely featured that it was fascinating.... She looked like a living doll. A porcelain doll, living in warm flesh and blood.
I admit I like how everyone looks – I know this sounds weird or impossible, and maybe it’s because I don’t watch much television, but I like looking at people generally. It’s interesting. Living creatures, especially living humans, attract my eyes. Male, female, wrinkles, smooth, dressed up or casual, sweat stains leaking through t-shirts, I find a mild pleasure in seeing other people and observing them like art. Or like reading a book/article. Even the really round squishy ones others might find unattractive, my eyes are drawn to them because I marvel and wonder what life is like for them. Looking at people makes me curious. I have to be careful not to let people see me staring though because sometimes they get the wrong idea; e.g. a man will interpret an enduring gaze as that I want him to come over and talk to me, which is something I almost never want.
I brought the turtles today. They stayed in the locker, and I petted their heads before I headed upstairs. They were content when I returned. I think they’ll always be okay, as long as they have each other. I find comfort interacting in ways people consider only children should interact (I mean, with inanimate creatures; likenesses). For years I didn’t allow myself to do it because I knew I had to be grown-up. But seeing things that way is a bit too black-and-white; the schema of ‘being a child’ has a list of things which fall under that umbrella, versus a schema of ‘being an adult’ has a list exactly opposite of the list of what’s under the ‘being a child’ list. I have developed enough to be a little more comfortable with the knowledge that “either-or” thinking, ... “dichotomous” I think it’s called.... is not in line with reality so much. Life is so messy! And that’s one thing that’s beautiful about it.
I really overdid the gym thing today. I worked too hard and was wiped out by the time I was finished. I lay motionless for nearly an hour on my bed; listening to the radio seemed like a lot of work.
I did a fair amount of reading today. Some music practice too. I’m surprising myself. Practicing music has become more regular than I expected it to be, so soon after returning. It sure would be better to have a teacher, but I think I’d be a little embarrassed by how far behind I’ve fallen. I’d like to catch up, at least a little, to where I was when I was at my best some years ago. Serious stuff.
I’ve been heavily considering getting a laptop or something similar. I’m a little nervous because I’ve never made a purchase like that and I know so little about computers, but someone has given me some darned good advice so I have somewhere to start thinking from. I’ve been thinking about it for a really long time actually, but I’m nearing a point where I almost certainly intend to get one. That way I could have access to things when I’m away from my residence, and I won’t have to observe the limit at the library. I could sit at the library or a cafe, or bring it with me when I’m travelling somewhere. I just think it would be a good tool to have. Even though it’s pricey, I believe it would be a wise decision.
It’s almost time to plant things in the garden. A few more weeks I think. I’m going to see about picking up a few herbs from a garden centre; I suspect I can twist someone’s arm into driving me over there.
Tomorrow she’s heading out to see a live performance with a friend. She's actually a little confused. She doesn't know what to do.
I must have known it, but I consciously realized it just now. The nature of my fantasies while self-pleasuring has been evolving, changing. My drive isn't as strong as it was when I was a teen, or as strong as it would be were I male, so I've long needed to engage my mind & emotions when pleasuring in order to get anywhere.
For a long time the main catagory of scenes I'd envision and emotions I'd engage in order to get anywhere was: violent, hateful, oppressing my victims (or being a victim). I can't describe the absolute severity of it, and I doubt that you could imagine even if I could describe it in words, so I'll gloss over the horrifying nature of what I needed to imagine. The de-humanizing, disgustingly cruel and hateful, abusive categories of scenes & emotions....
Anyway, what I wanted to express here, is that it's no longer like that. It used to be impossible for anything else to come close for me. Probably something to do with my cummulative s****l experiences up until that point, and the disgust and anger and feeling of being used or not being as important when I was "with" my previous partner so very long ago. Not to say it was entirely bad, because the truth is very densely contradictory of itself in all its elements, to such a confusing point that it's futile to consider that anymore.
These days, and today I was consciously enlightened to this fact, it's no longer like that. I can't remember the last time I needed such cruelty to get myself somewhere while pleasuring. These days, my go-to scenes I envision are real-life possibilities of wildness and hunger and being wanting and craving to *give* to another when he's vulnerable & exposed in that most sincere, natural, animal way. I can't really describe it. It's more about the togetherness, the wild, untamed, playful and confident togetherness. Things which are healthy and real (or could easily become real).
To me, after all this time, the difference is incredible. I think I've become more healthy in this area of my life than I had come to ever expect possible. Certainly it's not vanished or perfect, but I'm hopeful.
How could I feel this emotional about him not wanting to talk to me? After all, there have been times I too needed quiet time all to myself. In those instances he was understanding of my needs and it was ok. So I should just be patient and wait for him. There needs to be comfort that we can ask for what we need and know that it's ok. If he needs a couple weeks without contact, well, I can't have my way all the time. Other people are free living creatures and, upon much consideration, I honestly & truly don't want to be the type of person who is so dependent on one single person. It's uncomfortable. I'm attached and going through a transition which would have been so much easier if it hadn't been cold-turkey, but this challenge ought to be seen in a more positive light because this challenge is making me stronger. People often grumble about challenges so I don't feel bad about my pitiable meowing, but that's how we grow and become more confident in ourselves: we get exposed to challenges and work through it.
It has still affected me in a counter-productive way though. I certainly don't want to feel these negative feelings toward this situation, but I definitely do. My feelings were hurt, I felt spiteful, maybe a little resentful, sad, upset, left out in the cold. I knew it would be like this in advance.
Maybe I'm emotionally immature and getting exposure to not getting my own way, and feeling these things, will help me grow up a little. I do want to be a better person, after all. Toddlers learn that they have to compromise and yield sometimes. Having so comparatively little social practice (compared to my peers), I would find it likely that I have more room to grow than the average in this element.
Friendships are about increasing the average contribution to the quality of each friend's life: so for instance, friend A gets z amount of quality added to their life generally, while friend B gets y amount of quality added to their life; we want the average of z and y amounts to be as high as possible, but also (and this is important), we want z and y to be as close as possible if not equal. [Note: pardon the aggregious oversimplification, s'il te plait.]
*Sigh* It's just tough for me because I don't have a wider circle of close friends. I have exactly one friend on my innermost circle, and then a bunch of acquaintances I see sometimes, and it's hard for me to even *want* to spend time talking or doing activities with people who could potentially be somewhere in between those two levels. I'm strange enough that people tend to get a two-dimensional idea of who I am, and to operate with me on that level. Or they have ideas of what they want from me. I don't want the same things others do. Or they get all nosey and offer advice which is really uniformed because they think they know more than they actually do, and that's a turn-off because it's too much work to try to explain to them the nuanced reality they got wrong. Besides, I'm not interested in making new friends. A catch-22, I think that's what it's called.
I'm loneliest for exactly one person.
*Facepalm* Oh geez, how did I ever become so needful of someone? That sneaky clever boy, snuck right in and tied our heartstrings together. When did I agree to this?
Nyxii, Nyxi, Nyx. You need some time to grow up a little.
I've been feeling a bit alone lately. Understandable I think. I believe we both derived immense enjoyment from our time together.
Not long before my return flight he told me he wanted to minimize/limit contact for the next couple weeks once I'd left. Kinda backpedalled when I didn't like that idea, but still, the knowledge that he doesn't want me to contact him unless it's quite important, I feel like it would be naive to not read something into that. That and other things, taken cummulatively. Maybe I over-stayed (stayed too long) - near the end I thought perhaps I had. I don't really know how I feel; I have conflicting thoughts about different things.
People and relationships evolve; people & their connections to one another are organic. Some roots grow longer or faster than others; others stop growing altogether and fall off. Growing, decaying; some branches grow taller and have dense, lush branches branching off; sometimes they get pruned. These things are what I think about when I consider "organic" in relation to people and their connections. Continually evolving, growing, decaying, moving, shifting... slowlyish over time.
Change requires thinking. Thinking is hard work. Evaluation, analysis, assessing; thinking and supposing are rather complicated and imprecise procedures. (Forgive me for the extreme words I am about to use to make a point.) Everything is infinitely more complex than anyone can know or get a feel for; webs in our lives, webs of others lives and thoughts and situations and schemas and - oh, everything - are infinitely more dense and interconnected and have more factors than we can ever even suspect.
People in relation to one another are much more complex than we seem to take into account or give credit for. No one thing can be read on its own in isolation; everything must be considered.
I wonder what they thought about me, all the thoughts & feelings they had about me. Mostly I wonder what goes through his mind, his thoughts & feelings, his evaluations. Of course I've noticed that whenever I ask, it's almost always something positive and simple about me (a "right answer" I guess, a charmer). Many thoughts go through our head each instant though, mostly without words, and mostly in the background rather than the foreground of our mental-emotional-physical landscape. Without us even consciously realizing we were having that flavour of cognitive motion.
I don't want to be the kind of person who's gullible or overly vulnerable; this requires consideration and thinking about actions, behaviours, events, words; flavours of interactions.
One of the primary reasons I had long intended to avoid any subsequent romantic commmitments is that I deteste the thought of being taken for granted, and that is what happens to people in relationships after a while when they become comfortable, I've noticed. (Or, worse than being taken for granted, being a wearying inconvenience decades into a partnership.)
I'm quite wild, and have too much needfulness & hunger when it comes to being with someone. Ultimately I belong as an independent, solitary creature; that's what the snow-leopard is. That's what the moon-goddess is too, at least I think so.
It's going to be a little challenging for me to adjust again. Time to re-acquaint with my imaginary friend: Friend. Maybe some other people too.
I notice so many of you read my blogs every so often. Mostly anonymous of course. Feel free to offer a phrase of wisdom, a quote or some brief sentiment if you wish.
When I returned today no one was here. Blissful quiet, beauty out the windows, the big windows with all those trees out there. I had settled into a peaceful feeling. Seems that whenever people are around in this house they are constantly polluting the shared mental/psychological living space with whining, irritation, frustration, ridiculous dribble, and punctuating every moment of silence with a slew of thought vomit.
I am sorry!but this seriously elevates my stress level. I cannot handle all this noise pollution. Interruptions to my thoughts and thinking, with people's radiating negativity or baby talk to animals or spontaneous, unvaluable sand. Sand.
I cannot handle this. I'm going out. I'm already a little emotional today.
Thank goodness for this beautiful safe city so I can walk or bike and save my sanity.
Since I moved in with my mother & sisters, I've taken note of how I can never find anything, nothing is ever in the same place twice, and something as seemingly simple as cooking vegetarian chili winds up being an excruciatingly frustrating endeavour when I have to look in a combined total of about 24 places for all the tools and ingredients I need. Or to find the remote so I can change the language option on an anime to Japanese. Or a thousand other specific situations where I just want to do a simple task, and it seems nothing is ever simple because I can never find things. People don't put things where they belong. To someone who never has to deal with this problem to this extent, good for you. You won't understand. To me this is just another contributing factor to my longing and burning desire to get out of this place and move, yet again, somewhere else.
Not to mention living among others' constant messes. If it gets cleaned, things never stay that way for long. Stepping over things, moving things around, losing things. It's amazing how much mess other people can make. Of course it's not my house, so I have no right to complain. I'm merely noting that this is one of the beautiful things I will appreciate in the future, not having to deal with.
The chaotic nature of having other people in my living space (or rather, me living in a family unit's living space), is a contributing factor to my frustration, lack of security, and total lack of peace. People constantly making noises and talking and interrupting me to talk about things that totally don't matter, when I'm trying to read or am on the computer or am otherwise concentrating, breaks my thought processes and slows down my activity so that I have to start over again. And then they ask me something again or say something again, and I have to try again to start over.
My burning desire is to not live here anymore, though I just got here a few months ago it seems. I have no where to go and the thought of tying myself down to a job I hate -- the only job available to me -- kills me. So here I stay.
But I have this dream of not living in this situation anymore. I need peace. I'm not helping here as I thought I would be, so I'm not needed after all.
With all this in mind, why would I ever want to start my own family? Situation after situation, day after day I am reminded of why one day I'll be fortunate enough to not live with all this cumulative frustration. The nice thing about it right now is knowing I can escape. Were I to marry and have children, I cannot simply escape and change my mind, decide I'd rather go back to living on my own.
Besides that, having a family costs an incredible lot of money. I abhor this job I have, already, and it's been less than a month and a half. Why would I sentence myself to the hell of *needing* to stay in that job? I mean, right now I don't need this money. It's just nice to have this money because I'd like to do things with it. But I'm free to quit. If I had children, I would not simply be free to quit a job if I didn't like it, because there is a need for greater income when you have children. And there's no way I'd simply trust, oh well, it'll be ok because my husband has a job. No.
I'm not a long-term motherly type. I would probably be the kind to regret being a mother, were I ever to allow myself to be talked into it. Much of this is because of where I am in my life currently. Were I born into other circumstances, or wound up in other circumstances, I might have been able to see it somehow someday. But not in this life. There's no way I would sentence myself to that kind of hell, as I see it.
I need peace. I need quiet. I need alone time. I need freedom. I need organization, and I need control over my environment, my time, my priorities. I desire to put my own needs first.
If I had a different career path. Yes, that specifically. Where I could possibly make enough money to make ends meet, no problem, and where I liked my job and worked because I feel like I belong there and feel good about myself there, not because I have no other choice but to work a sh*tty job, like so many of the young women coworkers I work with, whom I love in that fellow coworker kind of way.
The world's population has increased four times in the last 100 years. Quadrupled. We need to slow down our population growth: people should only be making babies if they feel it is their destiny, their life ambition, something so beautiful and they're built for it.
I can NOT do that. I can't do it.
It's difficult for me. I have to confess. When I deeply care about someone, and they want children someday, I have to resign myself to not being with them. This is a point people can't compromise on. He would always secretly desire, and even expect (because people expect that of women), that I would change my mind. I would always feel that pressure, unspoken, and know that because he wanted me, I would be the obstacle against him getting that puzzle piece of this ambition. He would grow to resent me, and his choice of settling. I would resent the pressure I feel and the knowledge that I'm preventing him from having that family. Neither deserve those emotional, relational dynamics.
People think about things; I think about things. One imagines future possibilities, of course. ba
Family life might be my idea of hell, imprisonment, holding me back from opportunities like travel and education, prevent me from achieving any moments of rest and peace, not ever getting a break.
If this is so, then I must not be tempted to ever lead on someone who has family life as their ultimate goal or ideal lifestyle. It would be selfish.
*sigh* My sister returned. My silence has ended and already I won't be able to have my thoughts and Peace Bubble of the moment interrupted.
That's part of why this place never felt like home to me, since I've moved in with them, as when I rented with roommates in university. That was my home.
I feel so tense & frustrated about my life these days. It's so hard for me to talk to people about what's going on in my life and how things are going. It feels almost hopeless at times, off and on. I just give up. Even here on EP I haven't been as open as I have in the past. It's not even as though my life is all that exciting or interesting -- just that I have this natural inclination to keep information to myself. That won't make sense in the clumsy way words have of near-hits and near-misses of walking around the point, though.
I deeply sense it's not in my power to attain true & lasting contentedness. I have this way of talking myself into a forced short-term mindset of gratitude, and that has been a skill I've developed which helps me. Sometimes it's easier and much more honest than other times.
I'm only always getting older. My time to shine has passed, and I didn't make it. I have reached just about the very upper limit of where I can ever be. Through circumstance, lack of support, and especially through inner weaknesses. I don't have what it takes, and now, I never will.
I don't know why my parents had me. It was a very selfish thing to do. Yes, they made some sacrifices, but they wanted to for their own experiences. They wanted the experience of having children, of being parents & having a family, when they were younger. But I never received the attention or guidance I should have been entitled to. I needed more help. I needed more support, persuasion, guidance, instruction. Right now I am a little bit angry at them for having me.
That might seem unusual, to be angry at one's parents for having her. But here's the thing: if you create a person, you are like a god, and you should take that role seriously. Growing up I felt independent, which did shape me in a way, but I was neglected and even felt that I didn't have the right to ask for anything. I didn't have the relationship with my parents that I could tell them things or go to them for advice. And as a child, that's the parents' responsibility, to nurture and build that relationship. You don't just have me and then feed me and do what's fun.
Okay, so this sounds pretty pathetic. I'm an adult now, right? Free to make my own choices. But it doesn't work like that, not exactly. Everything is a web. Like a spider's web. All my experiences have shaped me, and I am who I now am.
I have to be open here and admit, I sincerely believe I had potential and could have been at a better point in my life with parents who cared more about building me into a better person. I know I could have achieved that university degree, if I had had people to talk to and support me. Family support. To counsel me. And to help me financially of course. I worked the overnight shift when I was going to university, starting in second year, and having a severely messed-up sleeping schedule really messes up a human being. I started antidepressants, I didn't have a drive for the schoolwork I was paying thousands of dollars to complete. In the end it was wasted time and money, which could have been avoided. I didn't recognize what was happening at the time. All I knew was that I hated my life. Conjuring up as many sui**** scenarios in as great realistic logical detail as possible, comforted me. I read my journal from that era, and I was so very alone. I feel sorrow and affection for that younger self, who I don't feel is "me" exactly, and I wanted to reach through time and help her because reading her journals I felt sorrow and fear for her, a desire to comfort that person. Who, oddly, was me, but not me.
I'm at a dead-end right now, me, in this own life. I recognize that I was psychologically injured, scarred from that entire half-decade-long ordeal of working my ass off, being sui****l, hating and feeling incompetent and hopelessly .. hopeless. In the end I didn't show up for exams. I dropped out three times, and went back again and again and again. I thought it was so important not to accrue an insurmountable debt by taking out a large loan, so I kept working and going to school, and there was just sooooo much work, with the devil's messed-up sleeping schedules (which are scientifically proven to lower your brain's capacity in many areas), and my brain was so shot through, and I had limited drive and faith in myself by the end of it. In fact I was certain of my demise, and many days wished not to have to go through daily living anymore.
God damn it, I tried so hard! I wasted years of my life for this ambition, which was not fun or easy but rather miserable and trying. I was so alone and unsupported. Looking back, yes, I can only blame myself..... But no. I don't blame only myself. I blame also that my parents weren't invested in me as this person they created. They wanted to have a family experience for a few years, because babies and young children are cute, adorable, fun, whatever. Then they neglected or failed me. And anyone reading this might judge me for being harsh and ungrateful to them, but this sentiment, this realization and feeling, has been around in some form or another for a very long time. It's just taboo to say such things. But I'm saying it. They owed me more, because they created me like gods create.
But now that they've had those experiences they wanted, they didn't guide me well enough or teach me well enough even as I was growing up, didn't nurture those relationships, and help me. I am bitter today again, and I'm not shutting up. I could have developed better as a person. Instead, I'm sentenced to this dreadful, dead-end life because I don't have the strength to fight anymore, the strength to struggle.
In this area I moved to a few months ago, near the downtown of a city, there live many people who are indeed down on their luck. Where I work we find needles disposed in the bathroom garbages quite frequently, and you can tell by the behaviours & words of people, that some of them are quite out of it, not their normal selves. There is a high unemployment rate in this region; very high. Sometimes people say things about these people, their needles and excessive tattoos covering all their body parts and the drugs they apparently do, or their welfare cheques. But I have more sympathy, I think. The people who do drugs, and take needles, I think about how a person's life must be, that they have to come to someplace and hide in a bathroom to take a needle to get rid of life's turmoils, or their circumstances led them to becoming addicted and they are a prisonner against their will because of earlier poor choices. Their lives will never, ever be delightfully beautiful to them, because they are in a cycle where they cannot rise above their situation. Theoretically an individual could.... But they will not. Some of them will, or have, developed mental diseases and have no one to care for them, so they live on the street or wherever, and make other friends in similar situations, or they have a place but live paycheck to paycheck.
People sometimes pay in nickles and dimes for the priviledge of having a coffee. And you know where those people will be years from now? In the same place. Or worse. And I feel for these people.
I think about their own parents. Who brought them into this world? In the right situation, those very same people could have been brilliant, many of them. Could have maybe worked in an office, or as a custodian, or gone to college to be an auto mechanic or a secretary. All these people came from somewhere.
What did their parents envision when they conceived them? These beautiful people who are now reduced to doing needles and drugs and living paycheck to paycheck and begging and sleeping outside. near the library for instance. What did these parents-to-be think about? Everyone's situation is different of course ....
It's not a joke. And I don't judge them harshly for doing those things. When my own life was more hopeless and frustrating, more alone than I am now, I turned to alcohol. I did not get drunk, nor was I an alcoholic, but there were eras after I dropped out where the one sustainable source of respite I got was a bit of a drink at the end of the day. It's not a far cry to imagine desperation being worse if I were in a worse situation, to being a real alcoholic, and if I were living with the wrong crowds like these fellow human beings I see, in their shoes....
Things are more complicated than they seem, for every single human being.
No one, ever, wanted their life to turn out so that they have not enough in their bank account for a single cup of coffee, and pay for the rest of that single cup of coffee with one nickle and one dime. And that warm interaction, that cup of warmth, is the only next thing they can think about. Who in that situation is going to possibly, in their wildest dreams, imagine rising above this very instance to become a pharmacist, or sometimes even a cashier? Or a teacher? Or to rent a place on their own? I give them what they pay for. Sometimes more.
I can't be as compassionate as other people are. But these people, are my people. They are my community. People should not be born into these adverse circumstances.
My life hasn't been as difficult as theirs. I ought to be ashamed of complaining at all, because so many have it way worse. I ought to consider myself lucky and just magically grow the strength needed to do something beautiful with my life. People must always think that about people like me, and people like my community members I guess.
I could have done so much better. I feel like it's too late and I'm at a dead-end and there is just a foggy abyss in the future, and my own shortcomings and weaknesses.
But my heart is comforted that it isn't too late for everyone else. There are those who will achieve their dreams and ambitions, and as a fellow human I can feel their joy and their pride in their own triumphs & achievements.
I had long ago decided that the quantity of coffee I drank was detrimental to my health, in at least a few ways, more or less than I might suspect. Caffeine generally, but coffee in particular I had developed an unhealthy relationship with for the entirety of a decade. I had quit it for a short time here and there over the years - for a month or so - but the truth was that I didn't care, I wasn't strong enough, it wasn't much of a priority for me to quit despite my advice to others not to start overindulging in it.
Those who drink coffee only on occasion, or who don't drink coffee or caffeinated drinks at all, or even those who drink only one cup per day in the morning, cannot fully appreciate the nature of my addiction. Yes, caffeine, tea, and coffee, and energy drinks, are rather acceptable and welcomed in our culture (particularly my personal culture, at work and home). But just because everyone does something doesn't mean I want to be part of it, or that it's ok. (Just like shaving my legs, or eating dead mutilated fellow earthlings, in that I don't believe I ought to blindly "go with the flow" and fit in with other people. It's a no-brainer, this principle.)
It truly is a drug. It has been an addiction of mine for a very, very long time. I want to be free of it. This dependency, this weakness of mine, the effects it has on my body & brain, both short term effects & long term. Until September 19th I had been drinking about 5-8 cups per day, of coffee and tea, and it was just normal for me. The caffeine effect was hardly noticeable anymore because I had built up a tolerance to it. I still did it though. I have a relationship with coffee & caffeine more than just the physical drug; it's a psychological thing, a thing of comfort, warmth, security, made me feel stronger than I could be on my own. I couldn't function properly without it (and I've started to see just how that plays out now that I've made the decision to taper it off to nothing).
I can't know precisely how the drug itself affects me, I can just estimate and learn.
We know it dehydrates a person, that it increases metabolism, that it interferes with the absorption of vitamins/minerals like calcium. I've heard that it leaches calcium from your bones, though I'm not sure. (Like a typical addict of any drug, the mind downplays the negativities, and ignores evidence, or doesn't conscientiously seek information.) It has inflammatory effects. I've known this and felt it physically, too, in my joints (finger bones mostly). Caffeine itself has a half-life of four hours, it is said, but most people don't know that coffee increases cortisol in the body, which is like a stress hormone, and that chemical floats around your body for way longer than the caffeine does. & The older you get the longer it takes your body to rid itself of this stress hormone. You won't even know you're feeling & behaving, reacting & responding the way you are because of how much of this chemical you've subjected your body and brain to, and you'll attribute it to something else (maybe PMS, or a type A personality, or being naturally high-strung & impatient), and you might never realize that it's because you're putting this drug into your veins and your brain 24/7 without a break. Also, coffee does the other regular seeming things like making you warmer, and have you ever wondered what's behind that? Your veins react to it. It also has detrimental effects to your complexion, and acne. I didn't know this for too long. Of course it makes sense that what you eat, affects your skin and its health. Excessive caffeine intake isn't the only thing that has had damaging effects on my skin, but it has been a contributing factor. Oh yeah, and it might contribute to type 2 diabetes. Huh.
I'm not saying everyone's body responds in the same ways to the same degree, but do some casual research from multiple sources, and verify in greater detail all these things for yourself. It's very easy to research anything over the computer. But actually, I'm really not that interested in what everyone else does. I'm doing this for me. I'm even writing this blog for me, to publicly share my goal, and just some of the reasons. By writing, I make it more real.
By quitting coffee and tea, and being free of this drug, this addiction, I expect to see positive results in a few areas. Other positive effects I won't notice, but they will come about.
I expect my emotional, mental, and physical state to improve somewhat. I'm thinking my emotions will be more consistent when a drug isn't influencing them up and down so much. There will be no withdrawal effects when I'm not having any, or when I've gone a few hours without one. At the end of the day I won't be experiencing the "low" that comes later, because of the cortisol + caffeinewithdrawal. All the harmful effects on my body that I unknowingly sustain from consistently elevated cortisol levels, actually, will improve.
I'm even expecting my mental health to be a little different, because my brain will be free of it.
I honestly don't believe these will be extreme changes, but rather subtle, and gradual. Still worth it. I want to be free. I want to be healthy. I desire physical and mental and emotional health, and more stability, focus, concentration, ... drive.
How can I be who I really am, if I'm always high (or low) on the drug I'm addicted to? Drugs affect your personality. And coffee affects my personality.
So .... Thinking aloud ... September 20th I had two and a half cups, the 21st I had two cups, the 22nd was two (one cup, and two "half cups"), and yesterday the 23rd was a cup of white tea and one cup of c. (two "half cups" again). Today I've had almost one cup of black tea, and intend to have two "half cups" of c. later in the day.
This is a significant improvement over the 5-8 cups of coffee I was having before I made this decision to taper off. Btw, a cup of tea has much less caffeine than coffee, a third to a half of the amount I believe. So I will be using that to help taper off as well.... And of course I've been using caffeine-free herbal teas such as fennel, peppermint, and chamomile, to keep up the actual physical reality of putting water in a kettle, heating it, pouring it, and having a hot cup of something hanging around.
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Previous PostsPeople., posted November 22nd, 2014
Confession, posted October 24th, 2014
Sorting, Clearing, Donating, Discarding, posted October 17th, 2014
Dear P., posted August 20th, 2014
Loss/Gain, posted August 5th, 2014
Tarot, posted August 1st, 2014
Readjusting to Civilized Life, posted July 23rd, 2014
Mundane Unremarkable Little Activities of Late, posted April 22nd, 2014
Scientia Est Potentia: Fluoride Letter to a Friend, posted April 19th, 2014
Diana; Assorted Flavours of the Weekend, posted April 15th, 2014
Take Care of Your Avatar; Truthfulness to Oneself, posted April 11th, 2014
Gym, Turtles, Gardening, posted April 11th, 2014
Realization of a Shift, posted April 6th, 2014
Examining Her Recent Emotional Landscape, posted April 3rd, 2014
Talking to the air ;), posted March 30th, 2014
Venting about noise, posted October 12th, 2013
Another Reason I Don't Want to Start a Family, posted October 7th, 2013
Just feeling intensely emotional today I guess. Insert title here., posted October 2nd, 2013
Coffee and other caffeinated beverages, posted September 24th, 2013
Confession, posted September 14th, 2013
Shower, posted August 28th, 2013
no title, posted August 23rd, 2013
Private Letter, posted August 22nd, 2013
I love the sensuality of quiet romance, posted August 7th, 2013
Water, posted June 15th, 2013, 1 comment
Journal: Thursday 11 April. 03:00am., posted April 11th, 2013
Journal: Monday 8 April., posted April 8th, 2013
Journal: 31 March 2013, Early Evening., posted March 31st, 2013
Isn't This Holodeck Program Amazing?!, posted March 30th, 2013
Bathroom Conversations, posted March 22nd, 2013
Something Happened (Sun/Mar/17), posted March 18th, 2013, 1 comment
Just Talkin' About Mundane Things Right Now, posted March 13th, 2013
Journal: Thursday 7 March 2013, 00:30., posted March 8th, 2013
Journal: Friday 8 March, 2013. 16:00., posted March 8th, 2013
Bird's Eye View, posted March 8th, 2013
Series of Journal Entries, Week 1, posted February 9th, 2013
Consequences of Employment of Foul Language in Inappropriate Situations Over Time By Our Society, posted December 8th, 2012
Emotional States, posted November 22nd, 2012
Compliment at Work, posted November 16th, 2012
How I Take My Coffee, posted November 12th, 2012
My EP Anniverary! Time for an Intro, posted November 11th, 2012, 2 comments
A Rose by Any Other Name, posted November 2nd, 2012
Gathering, posted September 10th, 2012
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