Back again, for you, the person who likes blue. I'm calling you out now but not revealing your identity. Yes, the person who is "her". The person who is so easily embarassed. Out of many people that read this, the few I know who reply through email no longer asks who you are because they understand and respect the art that has become this twisted anonimity... And because they were tired of never getting the answer they wanted. I am a vault and proud of it. 

________________________________________________________
I am so sick and damn tired of people like you and I getting dismissed, underestimated and pushed aside like last week's laundry.

Your closet:

Is full. Spilling over. And you think "I am lost, I don't know what this all means" and "where on earth do I start?" What do I keep going on and on about. What is it that I am trying to get through to people? Why is it so 'challenging' or 'provocative'? Sort your closet. Here is a fact...ready? Your closet, your dark corners quite literally in your living quarters, is a direct representation of how your mind and emotions are sorted or in your case jumbled together. But what if your closet is clean you say? What if your closet is clean and your room is messy? What does that mean? Let's pretend that it means you live more in your mind and less in the physical world. Better yet, in general, let's say that closets of one type of person all around the world are messy. Let's imagine that those people are in denial. Of what...it pertains to the individual.

The only way out is through. Step in and take a look around to analyize for yourself and what that means to you.

You're a runner:

I place you on elopement precaution. This means that you are pinned as someone who is likely to take off when you see fit for whatever reason. Mostly, this means a situation begins to consume you, your first instinct is to flight not fight. Passive, this is why you like the secluded scenes more than the social.

Passion and purpose:

You must find and claim. You have one. Everyone should. The easiest way to make someone suicidal is to convince them that they have no purpose, using their own delusional thinking against them, you destroy their identity and void any struggle they've endured to get to where they are at present time. What are you passionate about? It's staring you in the face, usually found in something you frequent. Someone once asked me "what if it is your job and you hate it?" What if the job you hate is whispering a clue? What if something that stumps and challenges you the most contains the answer? What if it is something that just nags at you? Read between the lines.

Uncomfortability:

It will happen. When you move away from what you are familiar with to explore new ground, your comfort zone will scream for your presence. Shut it up and own your new trailblazing path --because then, you will eventually realize that you're coming into a new life. The old one applies to you no longer. The old bad habits, sayings, self-doubting, self-critical, sad sack of victim and paranoia will die. Maybe not entirely, but the portion that ruined you and got you stuck in a metaphorical hole will.  You are the end-all, be-all of every attitude you take, everything you DON'T say and every decision you make. If this makes for one uncomfortable situation then get used to it... that is... if you no longer believe that wonderful things just magically land in your lap.

Love:

--Takes mercy, not pity. The bond is found in the sensation of pain between two people living seperate lives. I'm scared to death of it, not so much of it but of losing it after having it. "It's better to have loved and loss than never to have loved at all..." Bullshit. "Ignorance is bliss..." I call bullshit once again. Empty words to me. Love is going to happen whether you "choose" never to love at all. One would think that in order to be incapable of love, you'd have to be broken by losing it in the first place or be anything but human. Ignorance disturbs me on a broad scale. Yet I find it as the beautiful moment right before  innocence is written off for the sake of curiosity. Love is a constant ignorance in that we never know its bounds. However, love manifests itself as an absolute knowledge because everyone to some degree knows of its existence in some form. When you find someone (platonic only) that strikes a chord in you, be it a friend or a stranger, love is necessary to crack open lie after lie you've told to yourself for years. Love tells the truth when it is unconditional. Try this, you, the one I often single out. You know who you are, my occasional visitor who hides... try to think of someone, anyone who's made a difference in your life, big or small...

and say... "I love you" in your heart. Not "I love you and this is why." Make yourself uncomfortable or step out of your familiar zone, see this person in your head and say "I love you". Weird isn't it? Maybe at first? Or maybe this has been revealing because you've felt it enough times that you know that if this person asked, you'd do almost anything within reason to help them.  Now try someone you wouldn't really think of off the top of your head. Yet someone you are fond of.

This is a taste of the great compassion.

Facial expression:

Misleading. Tone, misleading. Everything else, transparent. And it's ok. You've opened up more as I move at your pace. This is to pacify you with the notion that you are in power, hold the baton, in control. And I intend nothing. The only way that I've been misleading is in how I write you now and what I actually say to you in person. Two reasons, not enough time in the day and like you, I don't like to hog the spotlight, I like to establish equality. You're tricky, its ok with me because of great compassion. I care so I will be patient. You clam up, I let it slide because you have your reasons and timing. Don't expect me to put up with it for too long. We're here for a reason, not here on earth, but right here on this page. Right there when we speak in person. Right there when we treat eachother like skiddish woodland creatures who might scurry away. I don't want to take up too much of your time and you don't want to offend me. I get it...so far.

What this might be:

This, the way I'm writing, to you... to put very bluntly, partial social expiriment and partial blogging for you, to you opening a door for you to see another side of yourself.

The only way out is through.

I have no idea why this has to happen. But please trust me like I trust that my life isn't a total sham.

My feelings:

Awful sometimes. I feel like slapping myself across the face for an awakening because I'm afraid of being too intrusive. I am self conscious when you read every now and again because I'm afraid you'll think I'm some weirdo obsessed freak. Or worse, you might be afraid of the accuracy or on the other hand think I'm a total loser for assuming too much. I hate this. Truthfully I hate my uncertainties and insecurities particularly about this. I feel like a burden even though you appear very welcoming and give welcoming gestures. I worry about you being too passive and maybe just letting me get away with whatever (not that I'm trying to get away with anything). I wonder sometimes if you think "maybe I like not being found by you, or anyone...including myself." If that is the case then why would you waste your time with me? You know even to breathe a word. Do you roll your eyes when I'm around? I suppose there might be days where you're like "not this again". How strong is your will? Strong enough to say what you needed to say when it was time to stand up for yourself. You know what I'm talking about. Calling her out like that in the utterly non-violent way that you did. In writing this, I'm taking my own advice for principle alone. I lied. Principle and productivity in the inevitable act of progression. Connection and meaning is what I get and I enjoy sharing something so close to my heart.

Is a pain in the ass. Having it requires (((P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E))).


[Robotic Female Voice]

"You have 10 messages... 5 new messages...

message 5...

Angie...this is mom. I'm so worried about you. You didn't call me back. I told nanny that you were in a head on collision. She's worried about you too. Tell me what the insurance company says. Are you sure you're ok? Sometimes in a wreck if you don't feel the injury right away, you will feel it the next day. How's your neck? Want me to take you to the doctor? Call me.

<BEEP>

message 4...

Angie... I got some guys to help me get my shit out so the apartments don't throw it away. Don't worry darlin', Dad's gonna be ok. You don't have to pay for movers now. Call me back when you get home. I guess I'll hear from you later.

<BEEP>

Message 3...

Hey you little fart. I guess you're still not home. It's dad again. I'm still packing. There's a tv your mom left. You can have it if you want. It's a color tv with a remote. Let me know.

<BEEP>

Message 2...

Angie... ANGIE...  It's mom. I'm worried about you, you still haven't called me. I'm still looking for a job. Can I borrow your computer on Friday? Call me, I'm really worried.

<BEEP>

Message 1...

Hey you. Are you really listening to these messages?  Head on collision???! Where does  she dream up this shit?! A kid backed into you at less than a mile per hour and dented your headlight fucking up the already fragile electrical system of the car. Seriously?  Now you're sitting there after  telling your  parents that they can't seem to get their shit together as they sound like children putting you in the middle of their 20 year trivial bitchfest. You finally develop the ovaries to put your mother's melodramatic and manipulative victim mentality to an end. Asking her kindly at first to stop complaining about your dad as you've asked your dad to do the same. Then she calls your dad immedately after you hang up with her and chews him a new ass  lies to him, and tells him that not only did she hang up on you (which she didn't) but that she doesn't want anyone to call her anymore. This is all because you told her that if she has a problem with your dad she should talk to him. She gets the impression that if you feel that you're in the middle he MUST be talking half as much shit about her as she is about him. To her that's a lot because that makes up 80% of her conversation with you which leaves you with a grand total of 20% of conversation with each parent that doesn't consist of petty divorce leftover crap. 10 of the 20% from each parent is about other problems they have they insist on repeating from the day before. This leaves 10%. 5% is the process of you reminding them that they are repeating themselves while convincing them that you're telling the truth because you were doing the dishes when they told you the day before (if they could just recall the clanking and rattling of the plates, forks and spoons in the background, it would click). The last 5% is Misc "how are you doing" and "can I borrow a few dollars (which, in minutes turns into large sums)". And yet... you are still standing there listening to these messages. Suprised. Everytime you play your machine. Shame on you. Go drown yourself in work so you don't have to think about it. Then by the time they leave this Earth, you can feel guilty for not doing enough for them because that's what the 5 stages of grief put you through. You don't have to call me back because this is yourself speaking. Oh by the way, we're out of milk...soy milk too...so...you can forget about looking forward to eating those corn pops in the morning. No powder milk either so shut that cabinet and don't bother looking anymore. Face it, the forcast says partly bitter with a chance of stale english muffin for you. Ta.
[BEEP]

    Is it anticipation? Do you wait for me to be foolish again? I got it. I am bizarre. You dig this? Sometimes. Whether or not you look for answers, all I have is what I can see. Take it for what it is worth to you. This is a process that will have many parts. I'll come back. I always do.

Busted and Confused. And you're a ghost. I thought this would be painful. In fact, most people who are narrow minded...would. Not me, at least not right now.  Flattering being this person who knows not what is going on, but one you can observe. On the other hand, the reasons are questionable on why you bother. Seeing as there are few, obvious reasons, I  rethink the whole charade of ambiguity. Then I rest in it for a while.

What are you so afraid of?

I already know most of what makes you tick no matter what you tell me.  No,  I haven't figured you out, that's your job not mine. This is a challenge of endurance. It also appears to be an exploration into the dynamics of personality. People in general fascinate me. And now, you are by far the most intriguing. And for this I must and have already blocked you or any image I have of you from getting in and moving too many things around...emotionally. You surface then reimmerse yourself out of plain sight. You hold a timid demeanor but only to the trained eye. Everyone else is mostly oblivious, so don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

It takes the power of a telescope.

Simple. I see someone who takes interest and appreciates the simple things in life, yet hates small talk with most people. I see a person who loves when someone walks into your world...and even better, when someone opens it wider. I also see someone who is fickle about that. Picky person you are. You have two sides and no, the other side is not in relation to your sibling. You are still your own person, otherwise you wouldn't be here, you'd be her. (Speaking of which, I hate to say this but your goal in confrontation is to ultimately forgive her. In the process, that doesn't exactly mean rolling over to get this done quicker. You hold your ground and give accountability out of tough love until you know it's wise to walk away should you have to). The image in my head tells me that you're an avid lover of music. This makes me smile.

Do you hurt easily?

My guess is you do. I'm guessing that would be the reason why you're probably at arms length with just about everyone you know. People disappoint you? I wonder if deep down inside you have many expectations... too many, some unreasonable. Or maybe you really don't for the most part and you know this, so you become cynical, skeptical and quiet. I just want you to know that you're not an experiment. To me, you are what I can't even put into words. But if I had to, I could say, "a gift." I have recovered, more than likely, from an intense confusion. In this I have put it in a box and handed what I felt, back to you. Don't open. Just appreciate. In the future it will open itself. Just focus on the thought, because it counts. I see someone who worked very hard and for a long time to build the kind of wall you have around you. From my perspecitve, it looks like you barracaded yourself in rather than keep people out. No bueno. Do you even know who you really are anymore because of that? Seriously, who sits behind that wall with you? Is it you or someone you wish to be? I see the same person. You... becoming who you wish to be. Take some comfort in that? Why? Because you're always the one to be able to comfort others in your meek and subtle ways. It's my turn for this moment. Ok moment over.

What do I want from you?

Nothing. And can I honestly say that? Honestly? No. But that is what I want to say.
I want...you...to not go away. There I said it. You're never around but somehow I know you watch or take a peek, check in, whatever you want to call it. That keeps me company. I have so many people, I feel so horrible for saying this, but all those people I could be around and ask for the same need and not get what I get from you. I know. W-E-I-R-D. I want her to smile when she reads. For whatever reason, just smile. Yes, you can pretend that you are a celebrity that some crazed fan is writing --if it helps you work the muscles in your face.

What is this?

I'm not sure. Never ventured out this far off of the socially "normal" course. I would like to say that I have. Consider me a newb. Don't know what to do other than what I do now. Write. Communicate to someone who, for all I know, could be the least or most interested in what is being said or has been for that matter. There is no ultimate goal or trophy for whatever achievement that may come out of this (if any). No expectations other than for another visit now and again.

I wish...

That I could talk to you in person, but I know that I'd fail miserably because you have an effect on me. I am certain that it is your overtly reserved presence. If that makes any sense. Sounds like an oxymoron but it's the best way I can explain. In this I also mean your every attempt to dodge answering a direct question with a direct answer. I suggest you pay close attention at the way you do this and why. If you feel no need to change it up then it is your prerogative. Make sure you ask yourself why and see how it might influence the people you care about... you know, as a precaution to setting new values and standards when the time approaches...and it will. I am also at fault here. Usually I am an incredibly blunt person as you may have seen. This is where people pin me as arrogant. WRONG. I just take pleasure in being so honest the majority of the time. I feel free. Around you, for some unexplainable reason, everything in my mind collapses in on itself, rapidly evolving into this supermassive blackhole-high-octane-fueled vortex of SUCK.  You look at me as if I had to prepare a speech or presentation using a  whiteboard to describe the the velocity of wit in order to find the value, windspeed and intellectual demographic sale potential of properties x and y (or something like that). So I write. I should at least get an A for effort.

The Past

Whoever hurt you so much as to create a being inside who hides must be a stupid person. I don't know this person and I already loathe them. You have no idea how sorry I am about what you must have gone through. It is etched into your eyes. I try not to look out of respect for you. But whatever it was, it was a big deal and the way it affected you lingers in everything you do today. No, you may not be that approachable but what I see and what I see you becoming will always remind me of the beauty in this place. It gives me hope and echos inside my head. Your most common card is the moon card (number 18 reduces to 9 remember the number line I showed you on the front page? it looked like this:

                                                 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9  (Motion Line)
                                                 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1  (Lesson Line)

You have a reoccuring lesson of 0 and 1. The fool and the magician.
I pointed this out to you. There are tears there. This card is your biggest obstacle and your greatest strength. It has taught you how to cover and how to journey. I don't ever see you giving up. I don't believe you even know how. I know how you could. Ignore the fact that you need to be more aware and in tune with people and situations rather than just depending on logic. Although...I could be wrong. I go out on a limb by saying these things. Maybe this is provocation of thought on your part. I can see you one day knowing how to let go of the past that cradled your most intense character flaws. Like polished steel, it will be clean. You'll know exactly what you have to do without any rhyme or reason. From then on out, you should be a whole new person. Then, you'll have to get reacquainted. This is not your future layed out on some cheap velvet table at Madame Cleo's hut. This is just the packaged deal one gets when they are willing to grow and inevitably transform. The hardest part will be the others having to get to know the new you. The downfall is the massive possibility that deceptive and shady people will surround you or be drawn to you most of your life. I hope that trend of revolving shit bags doesn't last. I know how bad you hate liars because I hate them just as much. People who hate liars that bad must have had a run with quite a few of them. Maybe it's our need for privacy or secrecy for our personal issues or something else. Whatever it is, this might get to you the most out of all your challenges. I'd say it's right up there in degree of difficulty with soul searching and identification.

Main Theme of your life and the meaning therein.

THE MOON

Basic Card Symbols

A full moon (with a crescent within), twin pillars, two dogs/wolves howling, a stream that runs to the ocean, a crayfish emerging out of the water.

Basic Tarot Story

Following the star the Fool travels through the night. The full Moon rises, illuminating for him a watery path. And he begins to feel disoriented, as if walking in his sleep. He passes under the moon, between two pillars ancient and strange. Suddenly, he looks around to find himself in another land entirely. When he was in the presence of the High Priestess, he saw hints of this dark land through the sheer veil draped behind her throne. And later, when he hung from the tree, he felt himself between the physical world and this one. Now, he has at last passed behind the veil. Here are the mysteries he sought, at least, here are the dark mysteries, ones that have to do with the most primal and ancient powers; powers of nature, not of civilization. It is a land poets, artists, musicians and madmen know well, a terrifying, alluring place, with very different rules. Wolves, howling in homage to the moon, run wild across this land, hunting along side maidens with bow and arrows; and creatures from childhood nightmares and fantasies peer from shadows, eyes glowing.

The path the Fool was walking is now a river, and he stands hip-deep in the powerful pull of its salty, moonlit waters. There is, on the nearby shore, a small boat, but it has no rudder, no oar. The Fool realizes he has only two choices. He can lose himself in this desolate, primal land of madness and illusion, howl with the wolves, be hunted down, or he can get into the boat, and trust himself to the river. The moon will be in control either way, but in the boat, his surrender to the powers of the unconscious and the natural world will at least take him somewhere. As the artists and poets and magicians know, inspiration, visions, genius, Moon magic, are the rewards of such surrender. The Fool gets into the boat, and shoves off. As the waters sweep him away, moon beams light his "path" and he feels the Mistress of this dark land gazing down at him with the High Priestess's approving eyes.

Basic Meaning

With Pisces as its ruling sign, the Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. The Querent who gets this card should be warned that they may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if they have any past mental problems, they must be vigilant in taking their medication. They should avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. They can and should trust their intuition.

Think about this.

I am where they can't reach me
Beside the night
Along with the fire in the sky
Twlight stretches
A million miles high
From where the staircase winds
Halls of reason fall off
The last known edge of the senses

Somewhere else.

I am in another landscape
Impenetrable fortress
Made of reincarnated thoughts
And pieces of other souls
Rhythmic breathing while I
Am somewhere else quiet and
Calm, in love with strangers and strange things
Always changing faces and angles
"Never", they say.
"Never the other side. We will remain here until you return."
I climb back into my identity and wake up
The dream world resinates
Like the smell of my clothes
When I come in from outside

"ID"
By: A. Muniz
(c)2008

I found this on some dude's blog. Thought it was interesting to say the least.
________________________________________________________________

Being Twenty-Something to Thirty-Something

Just received this article and i was able to relate with it..i guess you guys will feel the same...

They call it the "Quarter-life Crisis." It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are a lot of things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like.

You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you do not realize is that they are realizing that too and are not really cold or catty or mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job. It is not even close to what you thought you would be doing or maybe you are looking for one and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and are scared.

You miss the comforts of college, of groups, of socializing with the same people on a constant basis. But then you realize that maybe they weren't so great after all.

You are beginning to understand yourself and what you want and do not want. Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging a bit more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and add things to your list of what is acceptable and what is not.

You are insecure and then secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough to get to know better.

You love someone but maybe love someone else too and cannot figure out why you are doing this because you are not a bad person.

One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap and getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic.

You go through the same emotions and questions over and over and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans and money and the future and making a life for yourself and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.

Send this to your twenty-something (to thirty-something) friends...maybe it will help someone feel like they are not alone in their state of confusion!!!

...Billie Holliday gave her the charm.
these women pushed me towards inspiration. So did your willingness to listen, and not turn me into a laughing stock when I'm not there to defend myself. I hope that you wouldn't. Anyone in my position would consider that to be a possibility.

Prepare yourself, this is long so you might have to read it in pieces.
I suspect you to be a fast reader so you may read it in one sitting even if you bother finishing it at all. May I make a suggestion to make this a little less tedious?
How about putting on a song you really like with no words, an instrumental?
I'll just consider this a favor then. I thank you ahead of time. I hope someday you'll thank me for something wether or not I'm there to hear it. It's nice to contribute to someone's life and return favors.

I didn't know where else to go, because all I am turned towards is in your direction. My gut tells me you will know and understand and if you do not, you will in time. This is tricky because of politics and I'd rather not be held responsible for being controversial when in all actuality I know you'll know where I'm coming from. That, I can surely respond to.

There are no theatrics here. This is me, the real me talking to the real you. Not the person you are when you are in front of others, saving face for your livelihood, hiding what you really think or other reasons, because we all have many selves to maintain.

Here, now, I talk to the person behind closed doors or rather the iron curtain, cellar door, the person who looks in the mirror before she puts on her makeup, and the person you become when you wash it off at the end of the day.

…The person who quite possibly prefers to be alone but curses solitude like... just about everyone else.

 There are things beyond this world, beyond the reality of our senses that communicates mostly by a nagging feeling, that little voice in your head. You know what I mean and it is not one's conscience. A voice smarter than that, the one that doesn't just tell you right from wrong or anything as such. More like the one that gives good direction bringing you over bridges and crossroads. One that makes you say and do things that would only take Divine Intervention to push you to the shores of something entirely different, vague but familiar, as if you visit this place in your dreams or when you sit at work and know you need to take off, travel but have no real place to go or the money to help you make up your mind. We've all been there.

I need you to read. I need you to keep reading this as you are my witness. Things change and evolve but inside we can remain the same if we want. This abstract message, is it a cry for help or is it a pre-game show epiphany? Is someone seeing you at latitude while you view life at only longitude?  Why do people meet? Or is this just someone talking to someone else she's made up in her head so she can cope (and the real person thinks she's just a basket case)? Better yet, this very well could be a person reaching out to almost a complete stranger, a gifted stranger who can teach and live, who happened to have really met someone in the middle of facing their own tired mortality and a new threshold of knowledge. I mean, let's be honest here and while we're at it, I can't STAND talking about myself. I'd rather ask people questions until they turn blue in the face from them because of a relentlessly curious mind. Glad we got that out of the way.

I'll tell you what little I've learned. I've learned that people are simple. Everyone. Most people recognize that on some level and complicate themselves and by doing so, they complicate their lives, only to try to simplify it again and call it wisdom.

Most of all, I've learned that I'm all I've really ever had, and as I've mentioned before, the idea that we have many selves, I live with myself by myself with family so detached that they do not know what to do with themselves. So, they in turn, buy my affection, clear their guilt by stomaching the sentences that come staggering out of their mouth about how I'm doing as if they were really concerned. Their distraction from authentic compassion and reality as we know it much less, the comprehension of what it really means to live life to its fullest, is truly their own self doubt. I wish to never fulfill that family legacy.

I embraced it only to know of it and what it was about, I showed temperance only to arrive at sympathy, I leaned on the legacy's faults to negate my own, I faced them to burn the victim inside me, I ran from it to survive and now write it down to give others that I've never met hope and some day, I hope to exist on the other side after putting it to a quick demise.

This is a story, my story and many others' as well. I feel them with me, and there's too many people on this earth not to have someone else know exactly how I feel or what I'm enduring. The only differences are semantics and semantics are the spice.

Without them everyone in my shoes would be the same and this story wouldn't be worth telling. But because we all are the way we are, every story is worth telling even if it is passing, even if it is seemingly trivial. Circumstances create the details. One detail in a moment can change an entire reality. This entry is a small detail only to alter a perception one might have of me after reading it for better or worse. I'm willing to take that risk because I'd like to believe that I can handle them. My art teacher once said, risks are what we take when we wish to move to another level of creation (art) and become a different person.

The risk is opening up to someone… plain and simple, this is not wisdom, this is faith, courage and stamina.

I may not know what wisdom is, but I know what it is not.

I walk around every day seeing everyone's baggage. I am careful after seeing it of everything I do and say. Seeing into their world when they have no idea, is much like walking down a long hall in a psychiatric facility, I peer into the small glass windows of everyone's doors and I see them clawing at the walls. The door is painted with a sign that says "home sweet home". I see them banging their heads into the cold tiled floor, while they have a smile on their face as a sick attempt to cover it up, when it just makes them look like they are one fry short of a happy meal. I see some just sitting there, gazing through the window waiting for someone to walk in and join them, while others, I see them waiting and wishing to get out. The latter are the dreamers.

When everyone else is dumbfounded by mystery, the dreamers hold the answers.

I see people I don't know walk by and even some I do know, and I see that we are all prisoners. Some of us are in denial, some of us are ignorant and some of us have come to the realization. Those that have come to the realization and make something of this incarceration in a gentile and steadfast way are the light and the good. This incarceration is being in this body, in this reality, within this universe and knowing only so many things, of a limited scope on the other dimensions with the same sun and the same night sky over and over until we die. It is also not knowing for sure what happens when we depart. It is wondering what someone who says they really care about you, actually thinks of you and how you truly view them. It is over analyzing it all. It is ignoring such deep thought to the point of intolerance of the word "existentialism".

But we all have to deal with the two biggest fears, being alone and losing control.

I've lost control of where my mind drifts in the abstract but I have control of what I do, where I go and what I say up until I have that nagging feeling that I spoke of earlier. That voice. Now I am vulnerable. Meek and dormant emotionally. Even when I cry because I know I should, I don't really feel it like I have before. There is no numbness. I just have no idea what is going on and sadly neither does anyone else I ask. Not even the professionals trained to deal with people like me (the unconventional to put it lightly because I have no better words to describe it). In no way is this narcissism when all people do is put you in that category (the unconventionalist); not foul nor fish, heads or tails. And any "ism" in a school of thought, artificial or not, is the cuffs we wear to chain us to the ground.

We don't always or even often need an "ism" to define who we are and what we are about.

I just know that it's not always a great idea to throw labels around but rather try to view eachother as equals in that we all bleed the same; we all lose blood cells.

However, the color may vary.

But this is not about bleeding, or labels, or family, or creativity, it's not about feelings or conscience.

It's about the need to talk. It's about the triangulation of human connection and strength. It's about transcending everything we know in the everyday world and pausing for a moment to breathe.

It is about getting up and walking away from a chess game and moving over to the staring game. I blinked first. I'll try again. As for now, I'll recoil at the world I've created with the things and friends I have, the things I normally do and stomp to make the cd skip and the record needle jump. That's the intermission I look forward to no matter how small the break. That break is a refreshing imperfection. It can be done. You should try it sometime. Throw a skip in your step, a hitch in that giddy up, stop and toss a stone into a pond, make some noise, or my personal favorite, jump on the couch or bed even if it is for a moment. Raise your hand and keep it up even if you're at home in front of the television to see what your roomate will say. Then laugh. Walk into an elevator and don't turn around. Just face the back until you reach your destination while everyone else faces the front and grin. How about the best one of all...ride in the passenger side of a vehicle, roll down the window at 45mph+ and choke on the wind or stick your tounge out until it dries up, then attempt to say "S U P E R C A L L A F R A G I L I S T I C E X P I A L L A D O C I O U S, she sells sea shells by the sea shore, or sunshine city (5x fast). Ok that last part might be a bit much. The drying up thing is weird enough.

Writing this is the equvilent to all those things, potentially embarassing, uncomfortable and unpredictable.

The only closing to all of this is a song I wrote not too long ago:

                      "Under My Heels"
                   Performed by Bridgette Yawn
                   Written by yours truly

Even though we can't afford
to live in our own silhouettes
What still remains
are the shards of our guns
and tarnished bayonets

Would you rewind and storm the moats
of the castles we've built?
Dig up the petals and stems
to see if they whither and wilt?

It's no skin off my back (x2)

Under my heels
I can feel the Earth
spinning all on a string
Moving so fast
I can smell the burn
Feel calluses it brings

Would you retrace the garnish of our land
and footprints in the dark
For the sake of the perilous journey
you're so eager to embark

It's no skin off my back (x2)

Give the noose and cut the slack

It's no skin off my back...

Even if this scandalous force
dies like a nervous flame
I know this absolutely
You'll find your way again.

Oh... it's no skin off my back.

(c)2007 A. Muniz
____________________________________

This song is about having a conversation with yourself and moving away from a life that you no longer need to live. It's about overcoming every major struggle and not letting it consume you whole. It's about wether or not you can listen to what you really have to say to yourself with rigerous honesty, in preperation for becoming apart of someone else's life. We meet people everyday so everyday we become apart of someone else's life even if it is for a little while. We're all at war with ourselves in some fashion. What we do post war and between wars is the essence of who we really are. I'm faced with humility in going to someone I know I can really talk to wether or not they will listen or care. This is good looking out. Know when you need help. Know when you need to talk, know when you need to pay attention and listen. This is what I tell myself to keep going. People like you who encourage and believe in, your compassion, your kindness, your confidence and integrity is a reason to keep reaching out to people. Your cynical view and a good hold on humor makes it not hurt so bad. You have your reasons for being short (so to speak) quiet, aloof and edgy. But you're not alone and you look like you're in control, that is also inspiring. I wish I knew your secret and not your demon. I wish I knew how to look like I'm in control. Somehow people can read my face furrow brow or not.

Note:

Grandpa's passing is still being processed. I'm working on coming up with a way to address the profound lessons learned from this situation.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A friend of Kat's came to me recently while we were moving and felt the need to tell me something odd. We were shuffling boxes around and I guess she thought it was the best time to let me know that I don't "talk enough". What this had to do with the giant box of books I was pushing while pulling muscles I didn't know I had baffles me.

She was telling me that I speak but not enough about the "real" me.

Oh if she only read my blog.

This is the only place I decide to talk about the "real" me because of the following:

*This way I don't feel like I'm a burden
*Or in the way of other people's issues and thoughts
*Exposed
*It's super fun to let people think that I'm arrogant in social circumstances
*They have no ammunition
*I can talk about what I really think w/o offending people as opposed to in person when I actually try to pay someone a compliment and they're all like, "Hey, you should think about wording that differently"
*I can talk shit about people who think that I should "word" things "differently".
*Only my closest friends and a couple of people I trust read this.

______________________________________________

On a lighter note I need to make a quick statement:

David has a better understanding about the North American Union and prides himself on educating others about the issue. I still maintain that the NAU (for those who don't know, its the supposed plan to merge Mexico, Canada and U.S.A. to form something under the SPP - Security and Prosperity Partnership called the "North American Union") is under NAFTA regime and wether or not we become a diluted version of the EU, my generation and the generations that will come after are still screwed. People are stupid and should quit procreating then we won't have to worry about this "future" everyone keeps barking about.

If you would like to know more about the NAU, You tube Lou Dobbs CNN on the NAU.

Other than that, I recommend filling your life with more exciting stuff like...

The fun trend of taking household items and placing them on your cat as if they didn't have a care in the world!

http://stuffonmycat.com/

So I couldn't sleep. I have to be at work tomorrow. Work pfft. Contract labor, but it's money so what should it matter. I guess I should give myself a break from feeling that I should have a profession by now. After all, it took a lot to get this far. My bills are paid. Whatever.

I made myself take a rest tonight before work. I sat down and watched a movie with Kat. This movie was about this guy going crazy after his parents died, he orders a "love doll" from online and tells the whole town that she is his girlfriend. The town loves him so much they act like she's a real person. The doctor tells his brother and sister and law that he's created a delusion to cope with what happened to him when he was little. His brother abandoned him, after their mother died and came back with a wife. The doctor helps him work through this guy's delusion and the doll dies in the end. I was in tears through out half of the movie. Kat says, "she's not real". I take it like, "yeah you're crying over a doll."

The point is that she was real to the whole town because he made her real, gave her a history, clothes, a personality through the conversations he had with the doll. By the end of the movie the whole town is sad, crying and they actually go through the trouble to give her a proper burial.

I think this opened something up in me. All these strangers took care of this guy, treated him with respect and comforted him.

My mother left my father when I was young because he drank. Tried to stay with him for 15 years and couldn't take it anymore. She took me and my brother chose to stay with him. Since then I never really knew my brother and my father until I was in my teens when I came to live with my dad. The school district I was in before all that happened didn't want me there because I was a "liability" in the midst of my depression.

Mom remarried shortly after the divorce with my dad. I've gathered enough evidence between my dad and mom's testimonies to figure that she had already been seeing this man when she was still married to my dad. After the divorce my mother was gone a lot. Working during the day and going out on the town at night. Some nights I remember (barely because I was 2) her crying non-stop and cleaning everything.

When I was 4 years old I remember being with babysitters and day cares all the time. I always thought that she would be taken from me too. One day I was at the day care, one of the staff came and told me that my mother was going to get me early. I was so excited; I waited by the window all day long. I remember watching the cars go by, in the morning, during rush hour at lunch then in the evening when the sun was beginning to set. One child got picked up by their parents, then another, and another. There were a few of us left. Finally, after I gave up waiting for her and sat on the abc rug in the corner watching cartoons, I heard her voice and came running. "All I'm going to do is run on down the street and come right back to get you," she said. I didn't want her to leave of course, but I felt like she wouldn't come back if she did.

She never returned. Dusk settled into night and I remember the staff worried and arguing near the director's office. Before long, a nice young girl who worked there took me to her home. I felt alone, confused and very sad. I remember her parents asking the girl a bunch of questions. The girl came over to me, picked me up and got me ready for bed. I don't remember if she talked to me or sang to me but I know that morning came quick. I sat in front of a bowl of cheerios (not the good kind because I remember putting lots of sugar on it) and took me back to the daycare.

A few years ago, I confronted my parents on this issue because for the longest time I thought it was a dream. Eventually my parents gave me 2 versions of the story. Come to find out that mom said that dad forgot and dad said that mom forgot. I finally found out that my mother was out with this guy she just married. They got trashed and forgot about me. My dad was out getting drunk at the bar playing with his band. He forgot about me too. The daycare tried to get a hold of both of them but needless to say, were not successful.

Later on the in the marriage to this step dad guy, mom (because of her past with a broken family) tried to regain that by forcing us to be a 'new' family. All I wanted was my dad and my brother. I cried almost every night. The nightmares got worse and turned into night terrors. I saw demons in my room at night. My mother was preoccupied a lot of the time and every now and again she sent me to visit my dad 3 years after the divorce. We lived across the country so I had to fly by myself at 6 years old. I remember the flight attendants being so nice and gentile with me. They sat with me, talked to me, read my stories, made sure I ate. I remember crying when I had to get off the plane. They thought it was because I was scared (very appropriate because I was in Newark, New Jersey airport). I was sad because I had to leave them. I'll never forget those women, the one with the blue eyes and blonde hair, the short one with the brown hair and cute blouse and the older one with the potent perfume.

I was left alone a lot as a child. So I see myself finding comfort in strangers, people who aren't so close to me and those who are close to me, I keep them at arms length so I can still care for them.

I never realized that this was an issue.

It is no wonder I chose a profession that works in constant temporary settings with temporary people. I work with a film crew, we bond, then they leave. I had this same problem in the hospitals. You'd go in, settle, find people you connect with and they leave. Did I have a fear of abandonment? I had it and dealt with it. It transformed into the compassion I have today for people I don't know or aren't too familiar with. I guess it can be my resolution or reconciliation for these issues.

Whatever it is, it works. I mean, because we have no real identity right? Everything we are today is because we choose to be this way based on what the environment teaches us and what we perceive. Beyond this, are we just apart of this Infinite Entity in a constant state of awakening? If so, it feels good to be alive and take part no matter what life hands me. Well, it's better than the alternative anyway. Living is an artform. I believe Van Gogh may have known this.

Mad. Ha ha.

The long-accepted double-helix structure of DNA is actually only a single-helix; Watson & Crick were both drunk as hell from the lab Christmas party when they looked through the microscope.

*Drum shots and cymbal*

Anyway.



So I made a list of things that I like just to get away and forget some of the stuff that's been going on. If I don't try this exercise and repeat it, I'm afraid that I'll just sink into a depression again. So little things here and there to change everything up is ok especially in a time full of them. I'll feel more stable if I'm in control of pushing myself out of my element instead of everything else pushing me out.

Here's a list:

I go to the grocery store and dread taking the bags out of the car. So I grab them all at once almost to the point of hurting myself because I hate making multiple trips. I confess, I am a "desperate one-tripper".

I drop whatever I'm doing outside when I see it rain while the sun is still out. I witness rapture.

I love the sound of the violin and the piano. Sometimes I can hear the sound of the wood hitting the strings in the piano. This almost always ruins the song I'm listening to, but it makes me smile... at imperfection.

I enjoy the cacophony of people talking in a public place. Every now and again, I'll piece distinct parts of people's conversations together. Some of my best poems were written this way.

I'll stare at the light shining through a pool of water and watch the rays bounce off of the surface below. It's mesmerizing.

I went to a funeral once. One of my good friends committed suicide. It was an open casket. I approached him to bid my farewell and couldn't walk away because it looked like if I stood there long enough, he would wake up. I kept waiting for him to breathe. I can't process death.

I want other people to talk about themselves more. I want to talk about other people more, but because I'm afraid of being intrusive or feel like I'm gossiping, I end up talking about myself and I hate it sometimes. I'd rather save that kind of thing for my journals and this blog. Rarely will I find someone who knows that I'm only observing because I'm eternally curious.

When I'm driving or riding in the car with someone, the music on the radio annoys me but each song on the trip assembles a soundtrack for that day because that's how I remember things best. Sometimes it feels like everything out side the windshield is a movie and the occasional pauses at the stop-lights are brief intermissions.

I'm scared to death of lightening. So scared in fact that I flinch when I'm driving or walking during a storm. When I was little, I had reoccurring nightmares that I got struck by lightening, and when I think back, I can still feel the intense amount of energy pulse through my body.

I love the sound of glass breaking.

I love the way wax peels off of the cup from a fast food restaurant.

I constantly have lucid dreams.

When I wake up in the morning, my first thought is often, "Consciousness, that annoying thing between naps".

I love the cynic.

I love listening to the deaf speak in my head. When they sign, I can hear the tone of their voice. I like the sound.

When I'm editing and finally sync the emotions and messages together, the hair on my arms stand up and my blood runs cold with passion and awe.

I can read people's eyes because I know they'll never lie. Sometimes, if I really like someone I'm around, I'll stop because I don't want to feel like I'm rummaging through their "purse". If I care about them enough and they won't say much, occasionally I'll take a peek.

I get lost quicker and longer in light colored eyes than I do with any other color. Physically, that's my favorite part of any human being.

Miracles are only things that manifest in spite of once being doubted.

Teachers fascinate me in a good way and in a way I am repulsed. Either way, they are fascinating creatures. I wish I knew more about their subculture.

I can feel when someone is watching me. It's flattering. Other times it is bothersome if the person hates me or is a complete psycho drunk at 3am in the smoking section of a diner.

I hate the sound of dry skin on paper.

I get nasuous when someone files their nails.

I laugh hardest when someone realizes that I'm only heckling them because I like them. I laugh even harder when they know that and then do something stupid.

I stand there and watch when someone rushes in front of me to push on a door that says "PULL". I smile when they keep pushing.

I love the mountains so much I feel blissfully lost when I'm around them.

I love heights because I feel free, and closer to "God" I guess.

I love the smell of the ink in a freshly printed book. The newspapers ink makes me sneeze and the smell of an old book puts me to sleep.

When I feel close to someone, most of the time I don't realize that when I hug them I put my head down so I can rest it on their shoulder. I'm a Taurus, so I would do that huh? I feel safe this way.

When I miss someone that is all I want to do.

I cry in certain movies and get aggravated that I cry so I cry more. When I see someone else crying I can't help but laugh. Usually everyone else who cries in a movie is a good sport about it.

When there is a crisis near me, I'm usually the first one on the scene because I don't know if anyone else is there to help. Once I find that someone is there, and there's nothing for me to do, I leave as quickly as possible. I don't like crisis or 'heroes'.

I love writing music, but I don't know how to read it well. I play by ear and teach myself. I'd rather have lessons. Yet, I prefer to be left alone.

When I am reminded of "her", I look around for others like "her" and hang around them. Most of the time, I get scared and hold up in the corner of my apartment. I quickly put myself to work and dismiss it as best I can.

Cumulous clouds are the most aesthetically pleasing.

I like the texture of a tuning fork. Sometimes I hold that cold metal up to my head and place it on my third eye. It always tingles and makes me laugh.

I think my dad is going to die soon. I miss him already. Everyday I call to say, "hi".

When someone doubts my potential and believes I can't achieve something, it makes me try harder. In the end I prove them wrong. It's makes me stronger.

I love the taste of pixie sticks.

I love the smell of Herbal Essence in the wind.

I love the touch of someone reading my palm. It always makes me want to fall asleep.

I love animals more than I do people most of the time. I have more respect for them too.

Comfort is usually found in admiration and gratitude. Humility and understanding is usually found in disappointment, while Love is usually found in both.

I will sleep again tonight. Every night is a new adventure for better or for worse. Bring it on.


I love Monty Python. It's silly, but I love it. British humor always makes me happy.


I look forward to moments where others walk away feeling redeemed. I look forward to moments where I walk away feeling redeemed.

I look forward to moments I'm having right now where I know "she" reads and appreciates. But mainly I look forward to having moments I'm having right now where I know and feel that I can tell "her" anything.

I like the fact that "she" is as curious as I am about most things. I like how we both understand. I like that this is a different experience for both of us in how one communicates to another. I like not knowing where my life is going to go only because I used to hate it so much. I like how "she" already sees where I'm going. I wish I knew more about "her." Small talk is an event and a challenge in the meantime. Misquoting a famous philosopher on the other hand is a big no-no. I'll let it slide this time.

For those of you who write me to ask who this is. Keep dreaming. I'll never tell you. Sometimes it's ok not to have all the answers.

There is a HUGE difference between thinking something and knowing something.
Once I thought that I wanted certain things out of life and as of a few years ago I've KNOWN what I wanted out of life rather than just thinking I know.

Some people tell me, "It must feel good to know what you want instead of being confused all the time." I don't want to begin to address the kinds of people who usually ask me these questions.

I need to just say what I feel right now but I'm pretty much the biggest wuss in the world about it and am afraid that it will backfire. No doubt I would feel this way being a 'worst case scenario' thinker. This is not to be confused with the pessimistic thinker in a Murphy's law sort of way but rather a 'cautious thinking' way.

Right now I just want to scream. I want to scream so loud that I lose my voice and scream some more until I vomit or spit up blood. That's just an indicator on how frustrated I am. But because I've become so contained, I'll probably bottle it up until I crack. The only person I feel comfortable and safe to talking to is the root of the issue. The other person I feel incredibly safe talking to, I barely know but feel like I've known for years and if I told her what I really really wanted to say, I'm afraid she'd probably unintentionally patronize me, humor me and then when I'm not looking, run away. What if… just what if she didn't? Well then I don't know what the hell I'd do, think or say next while all the air rushed out of my lungs and all the oxygen leaves my brain. You can tell I don't handle surprises well.

Just to let you know, I don't feel this way easily about just anyone.

Most of this seemingly unnecessary turmoil is because I go back and forth about being angry with myself for something I can't help and feelings I don't choose to feel, then feeling completely worthless in every method of communication or productivity. But I still keep working and living and covering up a huge battle within me every single day. This started when I noticed that something was off kilter and stirring around in my gut. At one point I thought it was gas and left it alone. Then I discovered it wasn't, second guessed myself and dismissed it repeatedly. At some point it got too obnoxiously obvious and impossible to dismiss, at which point I started joking around too much, or spoke too much, or couldn't gather my sentences together, then I stopped making sense for a while. Gradually I slipped into a denial until something that I recalled a while back, hit me. Then I just saw this person for who she really is and no bullshit either. I did not wince. I embraced, and not just her main personality flaw, but everything in the world that was like it.

I used to say that feelings were a choice plain and simple. Now I am leaning more towards the thought that they are a choice to an extent—and when unconscious desires are finally recognized by the conscious mind its then a choice on whether or not to act on them. But when feelings are the origin of your actions, feelings you can't help and in some way you managed at some point to open the gates and let the "river" go (and I mean that in a totally uninnuendo way I swear, I have far too much class and respect to be like that concerning this issue), every moment there after you keep having to choose not to act on them. It's like I have to baby sit them day in and day out when using restraint.

Eventually I get tired. Then my body slips into a depression. My spirit is only drained when I find it managing the body on fumes. Eventually it's impossible sleep, eat, and socialize. All these things become a very painful burden and I find that I'm sleepy all the time only to finally confess that I live in a half-dream-half-waking-life state of existence.

I can cope with the pressures and horse-shit from my family, my future and anything in the whole wide world but not this. Not this particular problem. What was it she said that caught my attention? Was it a look? Was it something I found in her personality? Really. What the hell was it? Why when I try to block her out and find myself some-what successful, something comes on the radio, someone pipes up and says something that reminds me of her and LET me TELL you, there's nothing subtle about these reminders, in fact they are anything BUT.  I've never been so embarrassed and humiliated inside like this, or I can't recall. I just know that periodically throughout the days I find myself smiling for no reason at all. Sometimes I wish I could skydive out of a plane thinking I'd get it all out of my system, or would I get a certain rush of adrenaline, mess it all up by opening my stupid gaping trap? If someone can effect me this much, there must be something incredible about them. I just feel this intense compassion and I'm noticing I am applying it everywhere. Out of nowhere, yesterday, I had this "one with nature moment" I almost never have where an insect crawled on me, where I would normally scream and kill it, I was instantly calm with no problems and gently escorted the insect outside and placed it on the ground in it's natural environment. If someone could do that to me, I HAVE to get to know them. I'd be missing out on one of the greatest parts of life if I didn't.

And. Yet. I. am. Terrified. Of saying something. What's worse is not that I've come to terms with myself on what is really going on with me emotionally, but the fact that this has been an issue for a couple of years which is probably the reason why I never spoke with her that much at all. In fact I found myself avoiding her and the whole place altogether.

•    sigh * Why do I feel like I'm in hell or going to hell for this. The answer is because I have a bad habit of occasionally being so highly self-critical when I get scared. I almost never get scared—of anything, much less anyone. Yeah and things of this nature are usually taboo. So I act in accordance with societal standards. I just hate how she brings out the "human" side of me with her passions, creativity, sensitivity, awareness, intelligence, I mean gawd, I was so used to not breaking down and so used to working through everything with stride and moderation. Why do we have to have these feelings at all? Words complicate the whole thing to where I feel like a slow-motion accident and a shot in the dark. There are irrational feelings that bring on infatuation, and then there's this.

Sometimes my androgyny is a curse. I feel I'm not anyone's type either because I am not male or because to the male I am not a bimbo. Maybe I'm the enigma instead of this situation or this person. If she reads this and she's smart (she is. very.), she'll know it's about her, then she'll scurry back through the roleadex of her memory and try to recall the times it was very obvious. She'll probably ask the advice of a confidant if she's not too traumatized, on whether or not she's correct in guessing if this thing is about her. Afterwards who the hell knows? I just know now that I'm mortified before anything has even been figured out.

I'll occasionally take power-naps at my desk when I'm working and get ripped from my sleep by the swearing notion that everything I've pointed out to her about the world thus far, she sees more frequently than ever before. Sometimes my ears burn either because she is mentioning me in passing or because I'm worn out and anxious. It doesn't matter anyway, as magnetic as she is my bets are on being over looked for some arrogant douche bag or because I'm not sufficient enough in one way or another. Not that I think so lowly of her, or me for that matter, but because I'm the jerk in those movies who ends up with someone they can't stand, only I did end up with someone I was unhappy with and I don't know why when all my friends tell me I deserve far better then they can imagine. Either way anything goes, if she knew, this might very well be terribly inconvenient for either of us. In the meantime I'll just have to quiet my soul, observe my surroundings for answers on life in general and pretend like I never wrote this entry. If I get caught I'll just blame it on the dog. Ok well if I had a dog, I'd blame it on the dog because cats never seem to do anything wrong. Right? Right. I just hope she knows that I wont breathe a word until she asks me anything, because then I couldn't lie. I can't lie to her, not even if I tried. I'll just continue to blame it on the dog.

Occasionally I'll slip in a hint or two as my way of releasing this energy and provoking thought on her part about why I'm such a pain in the ass or something. As confused as I am about why this is, I know I'd still give her the same respect I've always given her and nothing less. Ever. I know good people when I see them.

I am certain of this though if nothing else, there is a lot of signs surrounding her and lately everywhere else in my life of a big change or awakening, the symptoms always looked familiar until now. The frequency is through the roof so intense that my physical and mental realities are colliding and meshing. Something is going on and it's swelling itself into a considerable disturbance.

For instance, I used to have these reoccuring dreams of walking up and down the main road near the neighborhood I grew up in. I always stopped at the same spot for some reason. I had another reoccuring dream around the same time where a traveling mini carnival came to town and I'd always stop by, or ride a ride and in some dreams I'd just pass by. Well tonight I had to go down to that road in waking life to pick someone up and in that spot where I always stopped in the dream, there really was a traveling carnival. There had NEVER in the last 15 years been a carnival in that parking lot. There was tonight. I almost veered off the road in shock! I had to turn back and pull up near it. When I stopped and looked over I saw the exact same ride I got on in the dream with exactly the same people from the dream in waking life riding it in the same lighting scheme. I about layed an egg right then and there. I sat there stupified  trying to make the connections in all of this. The only thing that came to mind was a deja vu I had last night that I thought nothing of while I was filming the scenery on the farris wheel downtown. At that moment I very breifly thought of "her" and what we'd be talking about or laughing about if she were there. Then I turned the car on in the parking lot at the carnival, dismissed it all and drove off in a hurry. Because of the disruption of that eerie incident, I got lost in a neighborhood I know every square inch of. It was so strange I couldn't even really talk about it. I do know that it's all happening fast, heavy and all the more strange pointing to something I can't quite put my finger on yet.

The most enticing part about the whole thing is that it feels like it's not just me. I've noticed some others see it BIGTIME when they are around me. Maybe I am carrying the door around under my arm or something and setting it up when I pause to have a light chat with someone, who knows.

Unfortunately I have to pretend with that as I have to with the other issue I mentioned and more or less act like I'm not seeing it all that much, saying nothing to almost no one. Now I really feel alone, and even more misunderstood. Hopefully I'll get over it in due time or do something productive with it eventually if I'm not already now by just witnessing it all. I smile at chaos and nod my head.