Thusday Evening
Well, the day's winding down, the sun has set and it's starting to cool off outside. It was a beautiful day, and I missed it.
What's worse? I was in an odd mood all day, happy in a sense, energetic, but I pissed off just about everyone around me, and I didn't get much of anything done. It's hard to concentrate on the mass of paper on my desk when I keep looking out the front door at all the glorious wilderness around. I even gave up writing mythology for today.
Diane has a new cat at work; a siamese she's named Lucious Valaria. She's going to send me pictures tomorrow. And I still can't have a dog. I checked.
Energetic Anticipation II
Energy again. But different. You know how before it felt light, like my soul was expanding outside my body? Today is not like that. My energy is coursing inward. I feel feral. I woke up this morning, pulled my ass out of bed, and, I can't say I'm in a bad mood, but I'm going to have to reign myself in today. I want desperately to be outside, to run in the woods and climb some trees. However, I can't. I'm stuck at my desk, which is likely for the best. I have little patience when I feel like this, and no compassion. Days like this, my mouth works quicker than my mind. I should write about Lan today, but I don't know if I'm in the mood to write. At least not now.
I wonder how long it'll be until I snap at someone today?
Lofty Minds and Thin Air
Chapter one is up!! Follow the link on the sidebar, and prepare for a short read.
I was on the phone with Sonja until midnight, last night. Great conversations about paganism, druidism, and worms. Always worms. We also talked about a number of things, and tried to think of something the other didn't know. It feels good to talk to old friends again. So, needless to say, I'm a little tired today, but not grouchy. I feel light. The air is thin up here.
Seems like it's going to be another relatively dull day, as far as work goes. Move the pile of paper from one desk to another, rinse, repeat.
I am:
Stuck on Telos, wanting desperately to turn to the Darkside, get my ship and driod and move on
Thinking about the terrible (I really need a new word) way Weis and Hickman killed Caramon
Wishing I could figure out what kind of music I am in the mood for so I can drown out Neil Young
Disappointed I can't remember if my dream was prophetic or not
Another hobby of mine; toys. As nature loving as I am, I do love the smell of a brand new plastic action figure. As soon as my basement dries out, I'm going to rebuild some of these scenes, with the addition of the new toys I've got. Oh, sweet plastic bliss.
All I need here is an army of Doombots...
Next time I'll try smaller fishing line :P
And of course, being from my mind, Amos shares my affection for beer.
This is Amos. A figment of my imagination that, through my hands, a hot glue gun and a sheet of polylam foam, found his way into our world.
What does a eccentric, childminded 28 year old do for his birthday when he has no friends? He builds one and takes him on a road trip.
Mythology of the Mind
Back at the mill. It was a relaxing weekend, for the most part. I spent some time with Diane in Lloydminster for our anniversary (we had a great greek meal, and I introduced Diane to lamb), and took her two little sisters shopping. Sixteen and thirteen year old girls can waste a day. I sat outside a clothing store at kingsway mall, cross legged watch traffic for close to an hour. I even sang the "oscar meyer weiner" song, but I think that just made them want to stay in there longer.
I was inspired on wednesday, something that rarely happens for me anymore. Sonja and I talked about the people living in my head, and I decided to write about them. It's turning out fairly well, I think, even though I only wrote ten pages. My intention is to start a new blog dedicated just to this (mostly so that I don't have to scroll through looong blogs to see what went on before) which I've entitled "Mythology of the Mind". Catchy, huh? Trick is, I saved what I had so far on a disk and I can't get it to open. "Corrupt something-or-other". Damn it. I have a back up plan though (of course), so stay tuned for regular updates.
Of Old Stone Walls and Darkened Walks
My personalities? Let's count:
The Elf: Rules everything mystical, dark and encompassed in shadow. He is the dark force that loves to read, to learn, and walk the world in silent reflection. It is to him that alot of my younger adulthood is attributed. He holds the keys of the fortress and is the captain therein.
The Child: The animistic spirit within me. He is that which draws and sees the spirits around me. He rules the imagination, allows everything else in me to see the possibility of what is. He plays, laughs and finds pleasure in all the simple things I do. This is often the aspect that turns me to new endeavours and knows the secret passages and hidden doors of the fortress.
The Man: Admittedly a newer aspect, he is the one who enables me to focus and work the tediousness of life. He sees the things that need to be done, and does them. He can work day and allow the others to rest. Also in him, I have a commonality with others that allows me to get through work while sharing a sense of camaraderie. To him go the chores of the fortress and the beer afterwards.
The Woman: She is all that is emotional, soft and furious. She rules the senses, loves smells, tastes, to feel the world through tactility. She is the "hedonist", and can be both wonderful and frightening. She tends the gardens of the fortress, allows growth and prunes away the deadwood.
The Fox: He is the wilder aspect, the one who walks the woods around the fortress. Sly and wary, this one allows me to explore more of the area outside the fortress. He is also the thief in me, the trickster. When in extreme need, this is the aspect that allows me to do whatever necessary to survive. He aspires to be the protector of the fortress, and fancies himself a wolf.
The Fortress: I am the fortress. I am the winding halls, the library, the garden paths and all therein. I am the towers and grounds, within which reside the aspects. I think this is why different people have different memories of me. I am not one person, one aspect, I am the world in which these being live. My halls are dark or light, warm or cold, crowded or empty.
These are the core people living in me. These are the personification of the aspects I have. Each are dominate at different times, and some rule longer than others. They are more than emotional states, they are spirits within me.
Is That the Time!?!
One more day!!!! Sweet love of whatever you hold holy, in 25hrs I'll be in the truck and on my way home! For five fun filled days, I will not have to sleep on my crappy single bed, be snorred to sleep through the paper thin walls by my neighbour, nor be woken up at 3:54 by the shithead down the hall knocking and calling out, "Mike! Hey, Mike!!"
I'm still charged. Everyone around here is feeling drained, I'm told, but I feel like I could fly across the room. Maybe, like when people fast to have religious experiences, I've just been here too long, too deprived; I've finally gone delerious to cope with the crap.
I'm not each as much this week as I have been. I've slowed down from the winter eating. Maybe that's increasing my energy. I'm thinking though, that my equinox energies are still high; that the elements still reside with me.
I am:
Bleary eyed from playing KOTOR II until midnight
Meaning to read somemore of Weis and Hickman's Dragons of a Fallen Sun
Really planning to do very little work today
Imagining the glorious taste of a dark honey brown ale on my tongue
Energetic Anticipation
I'm restless today. I feel anticipation for something that hasn't happened. It's like I'm hungry for something, but I'm not sure what. I remember getting this feeling when I was young, in Edson. It brings back memories of laying on my bed, listening to the rain on the tin roof, wanting desperately to go outside to do something, anything. The feeling of wanting options that may not be available; feeling pent up, caged, somehow trapped by limitations. A feeling that I could do anything, that I was filled with the capacity for great energy, but I couldn't release it. I feel light, almost ethereal. I love the feeling, but it usually ends up anticlimactic.
I used to have a recurring dream, where I was walking down a road, or in a field, wearing a long coat. The wind would blow strong around me, and I'd have to bend low in order not to be blown over. Then I would feel my feet leave the ground. I'd nervously take a few steps, bounding into the air, moving a few feet before touching down again. The same sort of feeling would fill me in the dream, right before I opened my coat and let the wind completely take me, flinging me high and back, and I would ride the wind, falling and rising as I twisted my body and make-shift wings.
I would imagine this is how dragons felt....
This is where my equinox offerring begins. Len and I snowshoed (first time for me) east of the jobsite for about a kilometer. I found a suitable spot in a low spot in the woods and packed down an area to begin.
Earth, the northern element, brings abundance and is the element on which the others rest. She represents substance and wealth, and is the beginning of the circle.
The eastern element fortifies the circle. He brings breath and represents the unseen.
Fire, element of the South, brings change and sex to the circle.
The last element, the element of the West, Water. She brings life to the circle.
I used sunflower seeds here to represent the goddess, the moon, and as a symbol of her fertility. Sprinkling the seeds here represents the possibility of new growth.
The 6th component and last is dried marigold. I sprinkle this one last, to represent the god, the sun, to cover the seeds with heat and bring needed warmth to the world.
My circle is done, and I take some time to think about the cycle of the year, the end of winter, what has passed and what new things are coming. I think about what I'd like to grow, like regaining my desire to write, and expanding my conciousness. I'd also like to spend more time outside this year.
This concluded my meager offering of coloured eggs, and strawberries.
I thought I'd take some time to layout my ritual for tonight. I've taken a little for the wiccan practises, and mean no disrespect to anyone who thinks this is, in anyway, in violation of more traditional practises. Having not gone home last days off, and not much time to prepare, some of the components are improvised.
Components:
Marigold, dried
Sunflower seeds, shelled, unsalted
Myrrh incense
Yellow candle
Gravel or soil
6 hard boiled eggs (to be coloured, with any luck)
Water
Strawberries
A small circle will be made, walking clockwise, with the sunflower seeds as an offering to the Goddess; seeds to start life and bring fertility. Another circle will be made, with the dried marigold, as an offering to the God, to represent the sun and bring warmth to the seeds, and the goddess. Inside the circle, I will make 4 more, smaller circles, 1 for each of the elements to fuel the regrowth, to start the spring. Incence for Air, candle for Fire, water for Water and gravel for Earth. When the circles are cast, an offering of coloured eggs, and strawberries will be left, I'll meditate on the end of winter, the death of the old year, and the begining of the new one.
The Morning After
What a couple of days. I've been from one end of the galaxy to the other and returned feeling.... Feeling's a good for it. The equinox is here, the sun is shining, blue sky, my eggs aren't painted and I don't care. :) I'm in a goofy mood though. I've been across the board, emotionally, lately. I'm sorry for those of you who had to witness it. I tend to flop in extreme directions and spiral away until even I don't know what the hell I'm thinking. I know the question on everyone's mind is, "is he getting professional help?" No, he's not. Just ignore him and it will go away.
Art's funeral was yesterday. We drove out friday night, and arrived at home around 8:30pm. I was pretty drained, curled up on the couch with Diane and fell asleep. There's nothing, really, more therapeutic than finding a familiar space, and relaxing with someone. We didn't even talk. By morning I was, more or less, feeling revived.
Saturday was a day of reflection, and shopping. I took some time to go to wal*mart (don't hate me, I'm a consumer) to get some supplies for camp (a new razor, toothpaste and shoes for the funeral) and then out to the hall for the service. There were alot of people there, some I even recognized from other jobs. It was a short, very simple service. This, of course, was followed by a very long, very quiet trip back to site. 3-1/2 days to go....
*Edit* Barb told me that I shouldn't apologize for being myself. So, I'm sorry for apologizing ;)
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time
The week winds down, and the shift is only half over; however, tonight I will be asleep in my own bed. This afternoon, my boss and I will be traveling home to pay our respects to Art and offer condolences to his family. I live an hour south of Cold Lake, and I've arranged to have Diane pick me up tonight. The respite to my sanctuary will be nice. It has been 19 days since I've been home.
Barb, a friend and fellow movie enthusiast from the office, stopped by for tea last night. It was nice to have quiet company. Lately I've been spending alot of time with people; I hope to get some time to myself soon.
It's going to be a busy couple of days. Leaving today, funeral tomorrow followed by more travel back, and the equinox sunday. I had some big plans for equinox this year, but it may end up being simpler than I thought.
I entertained some electricians today with my recitation of Hamlet's soliloquy. Somedays it's amazing how easily people are to stun, and somedays I wonder why I bother. And the answer is always the same; I am always willing to share what I know.
Something Less Sensory
I can't say I've always felt this darkness. There was a time when I loved and lived amongst the light as most do. I was as content as any man was. But the light of your world blinded me, as it does you. I couldn't stay in it though, as you do. I had to return to my darkness.
Yes, I say return because I wasn't always in your world. I was born in a separate reality, away from the light. It fed me, comforted me, fortified me against your light. It was lonely though, compassionless, cold. And thus I turned to day.
At first, I was lost, of course, confused, and a little bewildered. But light people found me intriguing, different, and thereby interesting. I gained confidence, comfort, and shed the darkness completely. I let my defense fall about me like old fur. I brushed away my coat and lived in the warmth of the light. And for a time, I was happy.
The darkness beckoned, but I refused to respond. I pushed the darkness away, and stood in the light, beaming with my own naked brightness. And I loved. Over and over I loved, not in the physical sense so much as the spiritual. I was taken in, and made warm by many, and in response, was loved. Or so I thought.
The novelty of my newness wore off. My insight into the nature of your light, and the wonder I felt for it became irksome. Light people no longer found my wisdom interesting. Slowly the light became cold, but no less bright, and I, standing naked in it, froze. I wanted to know about the lightness I was feeling, and people no longer wanted to teach me.
My confusion turned inward, and collected. I was dizzy from the mass of light that swirled around me, and I no longer had light people to explain it away. Still the darkness called and I would not respond. I was determined to stay in the light, become one of the light people. But I didn't have the warmth that light people are born with. And without it, I was lost in your world.
I searched for the warmth I had felt previously, draining it from the light people like a leech. Some were horrified, unaware of the coldness I felt. Some were surprised, others tried to apply their method of self warmth to me. But I could not generate my own light, and was no longer a product of darkness. I was caged by the light I could no longer live without. The darkness still called, but like a child too long away from its home, I forgot its language.
The darkness could no longer be understood. I interpreted it wrong, and confused its warmth, its embrace, its safety with anger, rage, all the negative aspects of the light. It became too hideous to embrace.
I don't recall how long I stood staring at your light, blinded by its radiance, searching for its warmth. I don't remember how long I felt the coldness of your light world. But could not stay. I knew that my dark, unintruded world had to be found.
I turned away from the light. And as one who stares into the light to long, I fumble in my darkness. I was angry that my home was so alien to me. I could not find the key to the dark world, and was as confused as ever I was in the light. My dark intelligence was lost to me.
I sought knowledge of the darkness from those who I had implored for warmth. But they never felt the darkness, were never loved by the absence of light. They could not understand the beauty, the protectiveness, the warmth of the dark; there was comfort, a softness that wraps one in safety. They said it was irrational. I was told that one cannot hide in the darkness, one cannot fear the light. Face the light, they told me, be brave and hold the light.
Ah, but how could they know what the darkness was. It is not fear; it is not hiding or running away. The darkness was not a mother, a protector, a place to be fortified in. I realized it was a lover, a partner. It did not hold me to shield me from the harms of the light. Rather it showed me the light from the outside, gave me strength that the light could not. It offered a wisdom that cannot be learned first hand, but must instead be observed, taken inform a distance.
One cannot stand with a nose against a picture and understand the complexity of the work. To focus on a single pixel to discover meaning is impossible. And this the darkness taught.
The darkness gave me a wisdom light people could not understand. Most would not understand it as a principle of choice. They stare into my dark world and fear what may jump out at them. There are no demons here, no ghosts, no secret evils waiting to devour them. Darkness does not absorb light. Light pushes back the darkness.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly, and I was welcomed. The warmth I had sought in the light was here. I could feel my fear, my confusion, my anger fade, as if melting back into the light. I was at home in the darkness. And again I could laugh.
From my darkness I watch the light people move, and in their folly try to escape the coldness of the light. I watch them cling to one another and still try to leave distance enough for more warmth to enter. I laugh at the comedy of the light as it promises warmth and returns none. I watch in pity as light people turn to the light, offering everything, pleading, imploring, begging for the comfort I have. But they are born for the light, as I am the darkness, know the twists, the curves, the sudden stops.
Why am I so dark? I have tasted your warmth and find it bitter. The dark holds a sweetness the light can never own. But the light, it has a companionship the darkness cannot offer. Still, the light taught me the favours of darkness. I could not comprehend the nature of darkness until I was exposed to your light. I could not learn the lessons of warmth without light's coldness, and could not understand that coldness without the dark.
I tell you this in hopes that some wisdom, some insight may be gained for your world. My purpose is not to turn you, to tempt you from the light, rather in hopes that you will understand the complexity of the two. Darkness gives light to the light the light, and light darkness to darkness. Neither could be understood without the other, although they do exist separately. Darkness without light is still darkness, but it tastes less sweet.
My lazy cat
This is my cat, Xanthesan, for whom most of my on-line dealings are named. Ever hear the one where the guy gets a credit card for his dog? ;)
When Diane and I first moved in together, I told her I wanted a dog. Since I can remember, I've always had one. So for my birthday, back in '98, she got me Xanth. At first, I was a little wierd about it. I've had cats, and I like cats, but I really was hoping for a dog. Anyway, since then, I've found that he will actually eat potatoe chips, my sandwiches and I've taught him to play fetch. He's a great dog/cat, and he's awesome to watch movies with. Most of the time he has to lay right beside you.
There seems to be a trend lately to hire professional writers at Marvel that work in othe mediums. Joss Weadon was hired to kick off Astoshing X-men, a series worth checking out, and more recently Allan Heinberg, from tv's The OC and Sex and the City, for the new Young Avengers series. Last night I picked up Ultimate Iron Man, written by Orson Scott Card, Nebula award winner and Sci Fi guru, and I was pleasently impressed.
Granted, I have been an avid fan of the Ultimate movement, and a fan of Iron Man in general, but I was a little sceptical about this one going in. I figure there's only so far they can take something before it starts to get old, loses its originallity and becomes strained and beaten (the whole comic movement of the '90's comes to mind). So far, they've picked a winner, although I will remain sceptical until the end of this arc.
*Aside*
I promise, all of my entries won't be comic reviews. I just thought it was a good book and was worth checking out. :)
Arthur L. Tomkinson
A co-worker, my foreman actually, was recently diagnosed with cancer of the bladder. For the passed couple of months, he'd limped around, complaining that it had felt like someone had kicked him in the balls. In a short period of time, he'd lost 35lbs, gone from being one of the loudest, most energetic people to the quietest. Last night he died, at the hospital in the town he was born in.
When I first got here seven months ago, Art was the kind of person that you thought any minute was going to bite you. He ran around the building, barking at people that walked through here, and constantly prodded people to improve the work they were doing. It wasn't that he was mean, or liked to piss people off, he saw logical ways to get things done, he took pride in his work and the work of the people under him. In that respect, Art and I were a lot alike.
I didn't know Art as long as most people around here, but I connected with him; we were a lot alike, and I looked up to him.
I had a bottle of contraband wine brought up yesterday that I was saving for the equinox, but when we got word last night that Art's liver had failed, and that he was getting worse, a friend and I opened the bottle and drank to Art. I walked back to my room, asked the goddess to help Art with his pain and to protect his family. I think my request was answered.
I hope Art found whatever he was looking for in the afterlife, and that his journey continues to inspire people. I'll miss you, buddy.
Spring Below Anzac
Tuesday morning and the crews have returned. Almost everyone who didn't stay here for weekend is back in camp, and the place is more or less alive again. As much as I enjoy solitude, the people here are, for the most part, good people.
Over the course of the weekend, a co-worker was diagnosed with cancer of the bladder, another co-worker's mother died and a third person from our group is off until Sunday due to a bacterial infection.
On the bright side, I found this morning that a mere 200km south of us, spring is springing. Almost a constant line of arriving busses last night let off people wearing light jackets and sneakers into the windy, -15 degree weather we've had here all weekend. I was having my obligatory 1 cigarette-a-day ration, chuckling to myself at the poor bastards who enjoyed a warm, beer-filled weekend away from here.
I did find some peace and quiet last night. I skipped supper (nothing new, I usually do) and went right to my 8x12' room, made some peppermint tea, turned on Morrowwind and kicked some Dreamer ass. I've been playing this game for 3 months, and still haven't completed the main quest. This is both the perfect game for me, and at the same time, the worst game for me. I like to explore games, find the secrets, fill out the maps and collect the odd weapons and rare goodies. For that, Morrowwind is great. But the world is so big, so complex, I could likely spend the rest of the year playing the game without finishing the main quest. It's entirely too easy to get sidetracked.
I am:
Reading Amazing Spider-Man #275 (Return of the Hobgoblin)
Listening to the busy hum of the photocopier
Thinking about climbing a tree and looking for crocuses
Going blind squinting at my Morrowwind map
The 12:27pm Blues
Maybe being in the bush for the passed 15 days is starting to get to me, or maybe it's memories of old friends, or maybe I'm just home sick. While I was poking around BlueMilk's blog, checking out what she's been up to (if not the last 8 years, at least the passed couple of months), I saw her "I, Jedi" post and I started thinking about home.
Normally this would have been my weekend off, and I would have been doing, more or less, exactly what was described there: laying on the couch, watching movie after movie, with my cat, Xanthesan.
I also thought about BlueMilk, and when we used to hang out. I don't know any more, but she used to get excited, like spastically excited and make me laugh. I wonder if she still hops around, clutching onto peoples arms, dragging them into shops and bookstores, or the movies....
Anyway, I'm tired and people won't seem to leave me alone for more than 5 minutes (which, incedentally, is not enough time for me to recharge my "I'm ready to put up with your shit" unit).
I
still can't stand Ani DeFranco
I
BlueMilk: the official drink of Tatooine farmboys since 1977
BlueMilk: the official drink of Tatooine farmboys since 1977
The 9am Blues
I have Tennyson on the brain today:
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known - cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all -
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades
Forever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle -
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads - you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are -
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I wanted to copy this here, because I can never find a copy of the poem when I want one, but also because this one, more than any I read, or written myself, resonates with me. I can see myself as the old king, in his last days, looking forward to the greatest adventure. His friends are all gone, and there is no one from the old days with whom he can relate.
I have also started to travel a little of late. This passed summer Diane and I drove to Montana to see what was there. We had no purpose (which got us in a little trouble with the border guard, who have no sense of humour, by the way), we just drove, swam, rode horseback.... At Christmas, we went to Las Vegas. She has wanted to go for a long time, and I'm just interested in places I've never been. I learned I suck as a gambler, but picked up a couple card tricks, and watched the fountains at the Bellagio. It's an interesting city.
This summer we're going to Manitoba to go fishing. I haven't been fishing in years, and I've never been east of Kindersley, Saskatchewan. Not the trials of Odysseus, but they won't let me travel with a sword anymore...
Monday Morning in the Frozen North
There's too much in my head. You know how it is when you decide to go on holiday, pack your bags and find out you can't close the zipper because you've thrown too much in? My skull. Maybe this will help me clean out the closet space, decide what's necessary and what can be tossed in the bin. My attempt at Equinoxal spring cleaning.
I "bumped" into a friend the other day that I haven't talked to in ages. It was a really cool experience to meet her again. She's inspired me, in a way that I haven't been inspired in a while. She introduced me to "blog" (a pnenomenon hitherto unknown to me), and I thought it would be something interesting to try *thanks bluemilk*
On my mind:
If it needs to be done, do it.
I still can't stand Ani DeFranco
Why ask me if you don't want the answer?
