enjoy the ride

Dear life (or to whom it may concern),

Sometimes I have mixed feelings about you. There are times when you've battered and bruised me, misled and used me.

But this isn't one of those times. And even during those times, something special happens. I become stronger through the beatings I take. So even if I bitch and whine, don't take it personally. I'll try not to do it so much in the future.

Anyways, I just wanted to take a quick second to say thanks. You have been so, so good to me the past two weeks, and it's made me (re)realize that things can always turn around. I am a stronger, more confident woman than I have ever been, and I'm really coming into my own--partially thanks to everything you've thrown at me, whether I've fallen or risen to the occasion.

You've taught me a lot, but I still recognize that I have a lot to learn, and I can't wait for the next chapter you have in store for me.

Thanks again.

With love,

Lynne

no dress rehearsal: this is our life (a jumble of thoughts)

and what have you got to show for it?



"I love it when people laugh about things that only they think are funny. It's such a gift to be able to entertain yourself, crack yourself up--to have that sort of sense of humor. Never lose that."



It's kind of funny how we trust sleep. It's something so innate in all of us. For me, the amount of time I sleep for often evades me. Sometimes I have those days where I feel like I've slept for seconds, and it turns out I've slept for a whole night, other times I feel like I've slept for days and it's only been a few hours. Either way, at some point we lose consciousness of time's passage, which is something that I find interesting.

It all goes with the whole time is relative thing.

Our lives tick away, but we can have respite from the insanity that life is. Without it we don't survive. Everyone has to take a break every once in a while.



I never understood what people meant by the falling dream, but I definitely had one the other day where I physically felt like I was falling, and I woke up with the sensation that I had just been dropping through the sky, my heart still pounding. I've had falling dreams before, but they've never actually woken me up with a jolt like that.

Dreams are another subject entirely, I suppose.



And what if you go to sleep and never wake up? Or someone breaks into your house? Someone attacks you? I have often been roused from sleep by pranksters. In sleep we are so vulnerable.

I think sleep, and dreams, are going to be a new sort-of-preoccupation of mine to tackle. Now that I've shelved time, it's about time (haha) that I pondered something different.



I'm patching it all up, I think. Thinking about patches, too.

tell her that I just can't go on

I am working on the accessibility thing, and so far things are looking good. I am reminded more and more every day how much I love people, and how extraordinary we all are.

Yesterday--or was it the day before? the days are blending together--I was walking to the village in the morning to scout out Christmas shopping prospects. One thing I really love is eating fruit while I'm walking - I always feel awkward when I'm walking and not doing anything with my hands (hush, you dirty-minded people) so I like bringing along things to eat. And this is the season for my favorite, favorite, favorite fruit: satsumas, or clementines.

These were the best ones I'd ever had. As I let each little droplet-shaped pulp-let of fruit break on my teeth, the flavor permeating my entire mouth, I smiled. Because in that moment, I was blissfully happy. Just walking, eating oranges, nothing to do. No rush.

It's funny how happiness works. For me, it comes in waves, little spikes of it throughout the day. When I leave the computer at work to get a cup of coffee and inhale the rich smell, when a stranger smiles at me, when I stop to pet a cat or to watch a hummingbird flit around, when I see something funny and I chuckle to myself. When I break a banana into perfect thirds, when I can peel an orange and the peel is one big spirally piece of amazing citrus-y smelling wrap. Little things, little piques of joy, the extra oomph to your step that you get every once in a while when you snap out of the reverie of things. When you stop to take a deep breath in, when you look at the sky and marvel at the clouds. Sometimes it's something so small, too...but the effect it has on you can be bigger than you ever imagined.

So my advice? Let the little things get (through) to you.

up up and away

There are times in my life where songs can describe what I'm feeling a lot better than I can. Someone else found a better way to say it. So I'm sorry about all the lyric-y posts. I'm going to try to revert back to my old ways & be a little more original in my expression.


I've had a weird month. Certain things that happened in my personal life really shook my self-confidence to the bone. Not a first for me, but definitely the most serious occurrence of its type in my short lifetime. One of the darkest times I've experienced so far. I hate to term myself dark and twisty, but that's pretty much what it was. A dark and twisty time.

Thanks to a few special people, I got through it though, and things are looking up.

I think this break will afford me a lot of space and time to get better. I have people back at school who I know can support me. Being home, though, will definitely be nice, especially seeing all of those amazing people who I haven't seen in so long. I've been thinking a lot about the people who I really do appreciate in my life, and the fact that I don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like, so acting on that will be nice, healing, and healthy. Not to mention there's the physical getting away from everything in combination with that.

I've come to realize that as a person, I'm not the most accessible. I have a pretty oddball sense of humor. I'm also pretty mellow. A lot of people cast me as stand-offish when I first meet them. I guess I'm just not the easiest person to get to know--I don't exactly wear my heart on my sleeve and there are a lot of things I won't really talk about unless I'm asked.

So I think that's going to be my resolution for this new year. Be more accessible. I want school to feel like home. I have a few really close friends, of course, and they are amazing, but they're also out living their lives. The rest are basically acquaintances. I want to pull some of those acquaintances into the friend circle. I feel like somehow I got stuck when I got to school. I'm going to try and find my corner, my niche. Evolutionary biology style, squeezing into that little space that's left for me, with a weird shaped beak with all my buddies who are eating the same kind of bug.

That was weird. But you get the idea, right?

I love the people I already have, but I also love getting to know people better. So I'm gonna try to do a little more of that. :)

this bouquet.

got a garden of songs
where I grow all my thoughts
wish I could harvest one or two
for some small talk
seems like I'm always starving for words
whenever you're around
nothing on my tongue
and so much in the ground
nothing on my tongue
and so much in the ground











see the little song bird
unable to make a sound
you'd never know she follows
her words from town to town
we both have gardens of songs
and maybe its okay
that I am speechless
cause I picked you this bouquet
yup, sure am speechless
but I picked you this bouquet

arguru

necklaces
fuzzy blankets
sitting in the kitchen
tall torso, small legs
in the neighborhood
pink streets
trees
vitamin water and teas
tremors
peeling photographs
birdbathing
puddle-ing
strangers' smiles, souvenirs
6:21
aquarian goddesses
lanky trees
madeleine
seaweed sensations
everything is crazy.
you just have to be okay with it
time is irrelevant
what you do with it, is


only the healthy, happy, wholesome, handsome, hopeful, humorous, high-velocity should seek these experiences. this elitism is totally self-determined. unless you are self-confident, self-directed, self-selected, please abstain.

perennial

the movement is growing. I think I'm going to keep all of the used ones. only one survived...the rest must have been washed out by the rain. sad, sad.

it is so strange that this one, little, rather insignificant thing that I am doing seems so much more fulfilling than anything I have done in an incredibly long time. something that, in the grand scheme of things, won't even be recognized.

I suppose that's what makes it a beautiful, fulfilling thing, though.

"art is why I get up in the morning. but my definition ends there...you know, it doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define..."

'cause you can grow flowers from where dirt used to be

"you must have a place to which you can go in your heart, your mind, or your house, almost everyday, where you do not owe anyone and where no one owes you--a place that simply allows for the blossoming of something new and promising."

I'd say this space is that place for me. it is a forgiving place, a place where I can be patient with myself and my thoughts, sort them out by making them some sort of sensible.

it's amazing what a difference a cup of hot liquid in your hands can make on a walk through the cold dark. it makes the night so much friendlier if you are armed with a steaming weapon of warmth. I hold it abreast of me like a torch, like my staff that parts the cold air to let me pass.

the past few days have been beautiful. the bold colors and smells of winter are coming, and the warm, fuzzy feeling of christmas. honestly, winter sucks once christmas goes by, but until then, life has a cinnamon spice shine to it.

the heat in our house works, so I can attempt to actually appreciate this weather. the chill isn't going to bite my bones and make it a battle to get out of bed every morning. fall is never my season, but in spite of everything, I am remarkably at ease and content.

and somehow, the pieces fall into place.

overlap.

I search your profile for a translation
I study the conversation like a map
'cause I know there is strength in the differences between us
and I know there is comfort where we overlap

and I build each one of my songs out of glass
so you could see me inside of them, I suppose
or you could just leave the image of me in the background, I guess
and watch your own reflection superimposed

and I, I build each one of my days out of hope
and I give that hope your name
and I don't know you that well
but it don't take much to tell
either you don't have the balls
or you don't feel the same

I just want you to come here

the more we think, the less we know

Sometime, somewhere, when you're walking down the street, down to the beach, or in the park, just stop for a second. Just take a minute, pop those earbuds out, and listen. Just listen. Tune in to the world. See the colors, see the shapes. Feel the breeze on your face, the warmth of the sun on your skin. Take a minute to appreciate.

Every year, we get an entire day to just appreciate. There's a lot to be thankful for. I think that it's sort of silly though...I mean, why should we just need one day to be thankful for what we have? It's kind of like Valentine's Day. Why should you only take one day to celebrate the one you love?

Anyways, like I said, there's a lot to be thankful for, and I guess Thanksgiving is a helpful reminder, just in case you forget.






I give in to a lot of my impulses. Basically, I need a concrete goal, or something substantial, in order to accomplish something. I'm pretty good at keeping resolutions, or working towards long term goals (with some determination, at least). So I'm going to make a resolution, resolve to do something.

I have always wanted to be a marine biologist. Ever since I was about 7 years old and watched a Discovery Channel show on aquanauts, I wanted to be one of that elite class of scientists exploring the vast, unknown frontier of the ocean.

I got to school, and I got overwhelmed. I couldn't see the light at the end of that tunnel. I am also better at other things, and passionate about other things. There will always be a fraction of me that will want to be an aquanaut, but it is not the only road that can lead me to happiness.

I feel like a lot of college is doing things you don't like. You have to take those horrifying general ed classes to actually learn about things that interest you, and you always have to do your time doing things you hate to get to the things you love.

I think this applies to life, too. You'll always have to do things that you don't like. Life isn't all roses and sunshine. So if you're doing time doing things you don't like to do, you have to make sure that in some realm of your life, you're doing things that keep you at peace with yourself and with your life. You have to make sure that at some point in your day, you like what you're doing. Otherwise, what's the point?

I think the solution to my feeling lost is to get back to the essentials, to make sure that I make time for the things that I love.

I had the notion that you'd make me forget the world

Every time I post on Sunday I'm going to use secrets as my pictures. Just a heads up.



I got this idea from...somewhere, I don't remember, but today I wrote a letter to myself. I'm planning on stashing it (or saving it on a disk?) somewhere for a later date, just so I can see how I have changed. Writing it made me realize a lot of things.

One, that I assume that my future self will be a lot more composed, a lot more self-assured, and a lot wiser. Which may be true. But it makes me wonder if I really will have it all together, and if I'd even want to. As much as I hate the big question mark of life, there's something thrilling about that fear of the unknown. It's scary, but you dive in at the deep end anyway.

Two, that thinking about my future self got me thinking about a lot of things. About living in different cities, and making new sets of friends. I've done it countless times given the amount that I've moved, but I still get butterflies thinking about it. About meeting someone I think I could marry and spend the rest of my life with. About having a career, whether my hobbies will change. If I'll ever get to the point where I'm bored with my life, bored with the making bologna sandwiches, writing my childrens' names on paper bags and bored with making love to someone I used to be crazy about.


Three, that this seems far away, but it's not. What scares me half to death isn't the unknown, but how soon that unknown is going to be known.


I think we tend to assume that people are similar to us. It just makes sense. Our natures are the ones we know best, so we tend to project that onto other people. We assume that we must at least have something in common.

My point is, (and this has frequently been my point before) that we can never know. We can never know the truth about people, particularly because they are always changing. I'm writing my research paper on the foundational assumption that we assume, and that people have this image of us that may not always be true to who we are.

In the words of one of the greatest sources of wisdom in my life, Ani:

“It seems that different people have an idea of what I am, and what I should be. And then there's me.”


So this is just a reminder, personal and otherwise. You can put labels on people, but make sure they're the peel-offable, re-stickable kind.

“I've been a long time coming, and I'll be a long time gone. you've got your whole life to do something, and that's not very long.”

slow down you crazy child,
and take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.
it's all right,
you can afford to lose a day or two...

from the house down the road, from real love

One of my favorite things about myself is my ability to blend with others. I am a multi-faceted person, and depending on the person I am with, I let different sides of my personality shine. Some people bring out the playful Lynne, some bring out the spontaneous, crazy Lynne, some bring out the very chill, down-to-earth Lynne. I'm like a little semi-transparent color circle trying to find buddies to overlap with, trying to see if we can make a new color that I like. Finding new, exciting colors makes me happy.



Like all things, however, good qualities can also be seen as bad ones. Being driven can mean that you are stubborn, being too kind can mean that you're walked all over. And for me, my malleability forces me to really have to watch myself. Because once I get intimate with someone, once I get close to someone, I have to be careful to keep some of my color in my circle. It especially happens with those irksome complimentary colors, those dreaded opposites. I bleed into them and all we get is a mucky, ugly brown. Sometimes the intersection grows, and I only have a sliver of my original color left for myself. I get lost in the mixing process.


So scratch what I said before. I don't have edges. Not even fuzzy ones.

I have walls, and once they're knocked down, I have to contain my color in my arms. I can normally do this, but sometimes it escapes, swirls out, glides through my fingers. My tendency to dive into other people does not help. Nor does the fact that I am in a period of change. In these times of change, of revolution, slight nudges can knock me onto the floor, and it is a dangerous dance for me to make sure that I don't bleed out. Sometimes I have to take a step back.

I'm working on it. I'm okay. This epiphany just reiterates to me that I have to remember to keep some perspective. New colors are exciting, but you have to remember what you started with, where you came from.

I have to learn, despite the fantastic, festive dance and play of colors in my life, to keep my hue pure. To stay true to my original shades.

Sometimes words aren't good enough.

I searched for hours and hours. but only found more shoes. more points of view. as if I knew.

I was all alone in a big, empty house. I was feeling trapped, stifled, and overwhelmed, so I went for a walk outside. the fresh air helped a little, but I turned around when the street stopped being lit. I wasn't sure I was in a mental state of mind to tackle the dark walk down to the beach alone.




I got back to my house, back to my room. I felt a wave of emotion coming over me again, so I decided to put on some music and just lay down on the floor. I started to stretch, and went into a few yoga positions from my yoga-intensive heyday. I pulled myself into a full lotus, closed my eyes, and all of my anxiety went away. I concentrated on lengthening my spine, on lengthening my body. I spent a lot of time focusing on each part of my body, feeling its presence - each of my fingertips, my eyebrows, the flat of my hand, my toes, my neck. I felt my consciousness focus on each of them. most of the time you don't recognize that they are there, but they are, and they are all a part of what makes your whole. it was very calming, and reassuring.

quanto alto posso volare?

hmm hmm hmm hmm.

and now I am okay. the pillow I'm using smells like smoke, and it brings a smile to my face. I have stretched my body. I am stretching my mind. I have restored perspective.

I was worried for a minute there, but everything is fine.

grateful to be what life expects me to be

here I stand
at the crossroads of life

childhood behind me, the future to come
and alone

nothing planned at the crossroads of life
but life will find me more grateful than some

we're doing the best with what we've got.

For me, at least, when it comes to my personal life, it is very difficult for me to separate myself from situations. I find it really hard to be objective. When it comes to things outside of my fuzzy edged bubble, I am a relatively rational being. When it comes to things that concern me, I am a highly emotional puddle of sticky feelings. I suffer from a condition where I can give perfectly good advice to others, but I can never give advice to myself. I guess it's always easy to see things straight from the outside.

Which is why I like to travel. By getting physically away from things, somehow, it helps me think, clear my head. I have sorted a lot of things out when I have traveled, and if I stay in one place for too long, I get a little crazy. It's almost become a necessity to have that vacation. It's not running away from my problems, per se--more of a quick step outside them to re-evaluate. Like a quick time out to get my scrambled brains into some sort of order. Life doesn't have a rewind button, but it can have a pause button.















I feel like something's missing. I'm missing something I had before. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's my sense of direction in life, maybe it's the fact that I haven't been taking pictures, maybe it's my sense that things are changing, but something is not sitting well with me right now.

I need a pause. I need a minute. The problem with life's pause button is that it comes and goes as it pleases. Life isn't slowing down for me, and it slows for no one. On occasion it is merciful, it gives you space to breathe for a minute, but it comes charging back at you all too soon. Life is like boxing, round after round. We deal with the beating because it teaches us something. We get knocked down, time and time again, but we get back up and come back out swinging. Perhaps we're all a little masochistic.

"Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop."

you won't hear me surrender, you won't hear me confess, cause you've left me with nothing, but I have worked with less.

Oy vey. In so many ways.

I'm in a really strange place right now. It's very uncertain. I feel like I'm in one of those video games where you have to cross the flow of lava underneath you on stones that rock and buckle, and you have to hop and flail your arms to keep yourself upright. I'm a little like Frogger, I guess. I have no idea where I'm going, and I have no idea how long this stupid log rolling life pattern is going to go on for.

But there are always rays of sunshine in the darkness, my friends. Not to be self-lauding, but one thing I like about myself is my ability to set time aside for me, for things that make me happy. I may not have very much time (or theoretically, given my schedule, I shouldn't) but I always make time to spend an hour a day just watching TV, doing nothing. Or cooking something that I've been craving. Dancing it out. Going for a walk.



When I think about life, these days, it is, as usual, about time. But it's sort of different. It's more about the investment of time.

We're all doing time. Whether for an education, for our crimes, for forgiveness, we're all putting in time for something. A lot of life seems to be about waiting. Tick, tock, tick, tock. It's all about the next good thing that's coming up, the next concert, the next party, the next stage of life, moving out, moving in, moving on, moving up. And by the end of it all, you're just waiting for the next journey you take, if you believe in that sort of thing.

But sometimes, you have to forget about where you're going for a minute, and just enjoy where you are.

autumn leaves under frozen souls

People are difficult. Things are difficult. We are all so complicated, and so different, in some ways, that sometimes I wonder how we get along at all. How can people be friends? How do we relate to each other, and communicate, and actually have connections with other people whose depths you can't even begin to plumb?

What we put out there of ourselves is so little, so insignificant, and so, so inadequate. We have all these big things inside us and all we have to represent them are piddly little words, silly nothings that we use to try and give out some sense of the bigness of the things we are feeling. It sucks. Language is beautiful and powerful, and better than nothing, but still so insufficient for expression.

Which is why we resort to other things. We have to find outlets for all of the pent up things that we just don't have the tools to convey. We're constantly trying to find a release, another way to say what we have to say, and it's a constant search and struggle to get it all out so we can be at some sort of peace. We're all bound and gagged. The people who don't find their outlet are in big trouble.

I'm sitting on the concrete outside Warren lecture hall and the leaves are turning red. I'm wearing a cashmere sweater. It's cloudy and chilly. Where am I again? For a second I'm fooled.

These days I understand sad smiles, and the frequent coincidence of things being sad and amusing, or amusing because they are so sad. I never thought I'd understand that twisted, tragic sort of humor, but I do. Lately I've asked "I don't know if that's really funny, or really sad" more than I ever have before.

Life is sort of tragically beautiful in all its sadness. The important thing is to have a comfort in this mess, a cup of hot cocoa in the winter, your outlet. I have mine, and I'm grateful. I'm glad I have a cashmere sweater I can wear when the leaves turn, when it gets cold.

live through this, and you won't look back

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. My life is being sucked away by things I am not happy to let do the sucking. So apologies are in order.



Sometimes we get flak for believing the impossible can actually happen. People will always be there to shoot you down. You walk out in the morning, your hair is neatly pinned, your sweater washed, your boots dusted off. Everything is fine until you hit the streets, and the mud slinging continues all day. You really are at your tallest in the morning, because out there are people waiting to take inches off of you every step you take.

But I can tell you, my friends, that some truly amazing things have happened to me in my short lifetime. Things that give me so much faith in life, in other people...in some indescribable spiritual sense. And when, like this week, things have just gone to shit and I want to tear things into tiny tiny little pieces, I have to stop myself in my tracks, rinse off some of the caked-on mud, and remember to see the big picture. My life really does all come down to perspective.



I may have no plans for my life, I may be broke, I may not have a job, I may be on eggshells with my parents, stressing about finances, work, and school all at once...frankly, I may just have too many things to do, and more things to worry about than a lot of my peers. The system has fucked me. But when I think about all that, and all the pressures, and feel like whining, I just remember that I should concentrate on broadening your shoulders rather than lessening your load (deja vu, anyone? Just to see if you're paying attention.)

Rambling aside, I am stumbling through life blindfolded. I don't think I have ever been more lost than I am right now. But every time I fall, I stand up again. I break things, I look like a damn fool, and feel like the butt of God's lame dinner party joke, but I stand up. It gets harder every time, but you stand up.



I'm on my knees, people. But I'm trying. And I suppose that must be worth something.

don't look back

I never really fully explain my tattoo to people. It means a lot of different things to me, and so I thought I'd take the opportunity to talk about it a little.

Lotuses grow out of the mud. They rise above the water and cup the sky. It's amazing that something so beautiful can grow out of the mucky muck. They grow into something better, something from nothing. It has eighteen petals, representing the eighteen years I'd lived when I got it. With me being at a pretty pivotal junction in my life, it represents my growth, too.

The ying yang represents balance, and I think that balance is at the heart of everything. It also represents duality, which is another prevalent force in my life. You'll never understand how good things are until they're bad, and that knowledge is necessary to understand the other half of things. Not to mention, there are always two sides to everything, and it's important to remember that.

Chakras are generally represented by lotuses. My lotus is between the throat chakra, Vishuddha, and the heart chakra, Anahata. The heart chakra governs unconditional love and compassion, both for yourself and for other people. The throat chakra governs expression and the ability to articulately communicate. I feel as though these two are my most open chakras, in a manner of speaking, and the lotus is between them to symbolize the continued growth and refinement of my passion, my independence, and my dialogue with the world.

The star above the lotus is quite close to it, because higher things are attainable if you look at them the right way. The star, or pentacle, is also a symbol of femininity and perfection. The lotus, in its lifetime, sees everything from silt to stars, and it sits somewhere between mud and sky, good and bad. It always, without fail, though, is reaching towards the heavens, and it never looks down.

don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are

I haven't been very talkative lately, and I apologize for that. I've been in one of those moods where I have thoughts, but they don't translate easily. I've also been thinking that they're a little redundant, but I suppose I have to remember that things that preoccupy you don't always just come out of the box all pretty and sparkly and solved for you.

Some assembly required.



Anyhow, I thought today I'd spend some time mulling over people. Every time I get close to someone I am again reminded of how truly complex we all are. People surprise me a lot. I guess you sort of get lulled into thinking of the people you pass by on the street every day, or the ones you rub elbows with at the supermarket, are somehow outside and accessory to you. But have you ever wondered what the guy who is contemplating the bagels in the bread aisle is doing with his life? Does he have someone to come home to? Where is he from, and where is he going? What are his skeletons, his demons? And what are the chances that that individual is in the same bread aisle as you, at that exact time?



"Envy is ignorance, imitation is suicide."

I quoted it to a friend of mine last night. It's one of my favorites. Jealousy of another person is silly, because you have no idea what their life is like, and what challenges they have to face every day. If it's too good to be true, it probably is, and just because the outside is polished and shiny doesn't mean that the inside can't have fissures. Sometimes the polished ones have cracks that run pretty deep.

journey to a secret place

I breathe
finally I'm surfacing
I see
the sun is coming up on me

version 2.8

the truth about heaven

I'm not entirely sure which hormone is directly responsible for optimism (probably serotonin, that multifaceted protein love of mine) but whatever it is I got a wave of it.

Probably because it's been lacking lately. For several reasons. If you've noticed my last many many entries have been somber. Right after I told you this was a happy blog, too. I just got mucked up, stuck in a funk.

I suppose I am rather sad when I have nothing to wear. But the laundry is done. My thoughts are all folded nicely into neat little piles.

I think I've taken things to heart rather differently this time. In a we should celebrate life sense.




I'm entertaining suggestions, notions. Our bodies may go into the ground, but who's to say what happens to our souls? Maybe we do go to a better place, if we can just believe in it enough. If it's the last thought you have, who's to say you didn't go? Even if you don't, at least you believed in something beautiful. You had that to hold on to.

If you've ever read The Five People You Meet In Heaven, you know that some think that everyone's heaven is different.



My heaven is a field of daisies that scrape the sky. The field is a dance floor, and the music is so loud you can feel it in your bones. We dance forever, into the flowers.

I remember

I never thought that I would have to wake up to the same news I did on that December morning, but I guess once wasn't enough. When will it be enough? Where does it stop?

It's things like this that makes me think that there cannot possibly be a god. And if there is one, he is a harsh teacher.

It's sad that it takes drugs, and death, to make us realize that what we have is so precious.

when I want to run away I drive off in my car, but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are

I forgot how well I procrastinate. But really, it serves my boss right for giving me work in the last few weeks of my vacation when I'm trying to fit in seeing friends I haven't seen in months and months.

In any case, I will be up very, very late tonight.

Time is flying, but what else is new? If I reflect any more on the subject of time one of you will come after me with a rifle, so I'll digress.



I am terribly grateful for my friends. It's like putting on an old, worn in, familiar pair of shoes when you've been wearing heels all day. A big, life-wide sigh of relief. Friendships like these, and certain people in my life, really affirm my suspicions of reincarnation. Because frankly, this kind of stuff doesn't just come around in one lifetime. There have been several before this. We are the stuff of legend. We've all met before. We get the joy of rediscovering each other over and over again.

It would be a beautiful thing if it were true. I hope it is.



There's a quote in The Dark Knight that goes something like this.

"Sometimes the truth isn't good enough, sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded..."

Now as I am apt to do, I am going to take it out of context, just briefly.

The road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions, and I can give personal testimony to that effect. Now when it comes to the truth, I am a little stymied. I have wavered between both sides of this argument, and right now I'm hanging in limbo.

Sometimes I feel that if they are made in the attempt to protect feelings, white lies can be justified.

Because sometimes people deserve to have their faith in other people rewarded. Sometimes people deserve more than the truth because the truth, though it enlightens, is a dark creature.


I have lied on occasion to protect the ones I love. It always backfires. Perhaps being honest is taking responsibility, and accepting that you are chipping away at someone's faith in you and in people in general. It's owning up to it.

White lies, somewhere along the line, snowball to darker lies. And one lie becomes another, and another, and if you don't catch yourself somewhere along the line, your entire life is dark with the webs of your own fabricated stories. Where do you stop, and where do you draw the line?



Is complete honesty the best policy? Would you rather know? For me it would probably depend on the day that you ask me. It would probably depend on the situation.

I don't really have an answer.

I think sometimes secrets are secrets for a reason. And perhaps some things are better unsaid. Those who don't have secrets may have a much lighter load, and a lighter life. But if Atlas just dropped the sky, then where would we be? There's no easy way to turn back. And you can't just foist your load on another person and claim it's not your problem. (I'll come back to this later).

I don't wish for a lighter load, per se. Perhaps just broader shoulders.