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Sat Mar 23 1996

Late Saturday night. Knowing that I am alone and even with so many people that love me and have fun with me, I am now alone. Quiet and with a good day of sunny warmth behind me. But still. What?

Spring fever. Canadians get it bad. The snows draw back into retreat and the people come forth reclaiming the land and each other. Neighbours become more than a few thumps from the wall. Flowers smile more happily in the windows as the sun visits still longer each day. All the dusty wishes of a closed in culture bloom onthe waterfront as the yachts creak out of dry dock. Shorter skirts, missing polyfill coats, walking peppier and less brisk. Joggers multiply in number looking to re-fit their summer wear. Robins wiggle worms at the cats, and the French will mumble a few words in English. Tracey stops announcing that the sun is up until 5pm as the beta carotene sinks into her blood stream. No more dormancy. Easter. Barbeques. Children playing outside. Fireworks. Bicycles. Tax returns. Car cleaning. My birthday. Suntans. Less work. More recreation time. Shopping outside of malls. 4 pink tulips opening their hearts to me from London and Niels. Fever.

This is always the time of year I, if at all, look for new relationships. Now this year perhaps not. I won't let my biological urges get away so easily with the comfort simply of a new lover. So many other interesting creations to play with. That people are the most interesting things in the universe -- sentient beings -- takes a bit of a backseat for awhile as I build into the spring with the winter energy stores. I didn't slow down, but now I feel that I will be speeding up anyway.

About lovers. Back when I used to speak no language in common with any person, sex was a communication I could understand. Basic, easy, and intense. Perhaps it is these same qualities that lead me away from what was once the ticket to touching other people. No longer does it carry the feeling that I can reach only that way into another's being. I can do that pretty well any time. Most beings are not so exciting to enter into anymore.

The pangs of love relationships are unnattractive to me now. They feel like threats to my new found strengths and to my hard earned relationships. I do not have the luxury of time or space to wander off with a georgeous guy / mind enough to really have those feelings I used to enjoy. My new feelings and ways are more innocent then I've felt in years. I skip in the streets like a kid, and smile at people although I know I don't see them usually. I try only to force them to feel warmer because of my having been there. I am rewarded for who I am because I've found a way to explain wh__ I am with a dignity not becoming to engineers and philosophers.

I've chosen my rewards. I want a say in the order of things. I want to be known sufficiently to excercise my choices easily. My odd preferences and choices become acceptable when people actually know what I am about. simple

So why do I ponder sexual intimacy now .. only spring? I don't tempt myself with re-entering into old relationships. Childish me finds the exhileration of the new too thrilling to travel known paths with close friends. Cute. Childish. I enjoy the enduring connections I have already, and I don't really think that most of them would survive physical intimacy well -- I've tried before. So I'll just write out lonely Saturday night thoughts on the banal subject of libido scratching a social itch with a keyboard. It is said that success makes one feel attractive. Heh. Nope. It makes me feel centered, calm, and wise. and yeah I know the whole thing could fold up tomorrow. Of this Ihave no fear. I know what that looks like. I know a route out. I can find another. Faith generator pumping madly away... my way out. So what if the cute guy of my late night wishes isn't here. Ten more years of this hormone thing and then the libido will retire - I hope. :) I look forward to the easierness of thinking with the balance of age and success. How can anyone ever not completely value growing older?! Older is definitionally encompassed by the passage through time, adn hence through events. Events are interesting and enriching, thought provoking. Who would ever want not to do this?! I do not worship youth. Instead I enjoy the vision of the lama on the mountain catching raindrops for nourishment. My future vision today is effected by the Magister Ludi's end. A complete circle. My old aesthetics buring in me as I retreat back through a few years of expansion. A consistent system without completeness - only the illusion of completeness. And he left at the end through a contradiction. In finding t ... I am math geeking here. Step out.. hold my breath in a moment. A quote:

"Before his evening meditation he and his aides, the coach and the meditation master, were supposed to review each official day, noting what had been well done or ill done, feeling his own pulse, as meditation teachers call this practice, that is, recognizing and measuring one's own momentary situation, state of health, the distribution of one's energies, one's hopes and cares -- in a word, seeing oneself and one's daily work objectively and carrying nothing unresolved on into the night and the next day."

[page 227-228, The Glass Bead Game, Herman Hesse]

Upon his coming into adulthood, a ritual understanding. I am here too now. Away from the student years of youth. Shouldering responsibilty. A new beginning to second the previous one of mind ten years ago. Mind .. society .. wisdom.

Listen for me on 640 am at 5:30pm Monday. Bill McCarroll and I will chat about my desire to expose myself as he puts it with a smile.

a quick taste.

Mon Mar 25 1996

Running through me the world gets filtered into my vision and my frailty. Sadness today mixed suddenly with a dose of excitment. The mortgage company is a go, and that is that. Now to office furniture that accords our new coolness space, and business cards with little animated seagulls. A staff meeting in ten minutes - I'm not yet dressed. And then a client and an interview. Oh and somewhere is supposed to be a photographer from the Toronto Star. :) And still the morning sadness plays its theme threading my reactions with little bits of fear and hope. A slow smile.

I want.. everything and I have it already. Perhaps now is the end of my life.

my amusements.

Tue Mar 26 1996

a sample of days

Toronto Star /|\ SFYer /|\ Louis /|\ FSC biz /|\ DrLarry Cynic /|\ av@torfree /|\ Bryan Griffin /|\ Tracey /|\ Tracey /|\ a Niels smile /|\ Maurizio in Italy /|\ Randy the APLer/|\ Laura the Appreciator /|\ Lisa, horoscope please /|\ || \|/ 640 am Radio interview yesterday. \|/ meeting with Tilden execs about their website plans. \|/ staff meeting. \|/ martgage company takes photo op of the new building - they really like it too. \|/ Niels smiles again at me. \|/ I start crying inthe middle ofthe afternoon - haven't remembered to eat properly since traveling to New York with Peter the scavenger. I get fed just before the radio show. \|/ I swab my kitchen floor since the ceiling decided to rain down plaster all over it and the dishes. The cool landlords here aren't terribly worried about this. \|/ Peter spends half the night with me making my thoughts warm. \|/ Tracey leaves a voicemail raving about the radio show - Peter phoned in. :) \|/ My cats swirl around impatiently waiting to play with me. \|/ This was a bad day overall. I like now better. \|/

calming excercise.

Wed Mar 27 1996

Yeah right. Photosession with Patti Gower over!

More building tangles... and its still a go!

Wow. My head spins. wow


Thu Mar 28 1996

"Water the plants," I think to myself as I log on here. Am I becoming so much a part of the culture that I understand no more of what the outsider feels and thinks? Jealousy of others' accomplishments sits in my heart today. I surfed the net. I'd rather meet the people and talk with them, listen to their accomplishments directly, share their lives directly. Me. The ultimate in electronic exposing prefers knowing others directly. :)

No it's not that. [I wish Greg would remind which way the "its' it's its" controversy went again. I've mixed it all up once more.] It's what? It's a lack of focus today. I'm dreaming a lot this morning. 12 hours of sleep last night must have ocurred for some reason. I'm forcing myself not to touch alcohol -- havebeen for three days now. Each time is hard. I'm certainly addicted to something there. Ease of relaxing the responsibility muscles I think. Tracey and I truffled last night. I was a very silly creature indeed, skipping in the streets and sulking childishly because it was too cold out. Well, it was too cold for the way I insisted on dressing anyway. Hmmmkk.

But I skipped around as if I were 12 years old. Humming to myself, introspectively lost to my own amusements. Trace likes this I think. She said I was whimsical. Could be. Spring. Yeesh.

What to do...

a sunday morning after ALL.

Sun Mar 31 1996

I can't get over the inner closeness to wondering what the point of life is. Richard tells me that such questions arise only from philosophical mistakes. I grant him that. Buit the mistake is unremovable untell one can indeed undertand it. I still don't even now. The POINT.

Not a website. A thought. What is the point? of life? of living? of thinking? of trying? of doing? of being anything other than the nicely arranged for default of couch potatoism. What is it?! [I think I need a coffee to stay on this for more than a few seconds without clicking into Netscape to boringly surf. I did it just then -- wondered off to add a link in to the list of places linking me. Have you ever seen it?] COFFEE

Offloading pictures of consultants by the lake. We designed a database yesterday looking out over Lake Ontario. The camera came along with us for the fun of it. It's nice to play.

But honestly, why the fuck do we bother continuing on with life? The species does it, many individual people do it. Why? Me, I flipped a coin at some point. There was a revelation I had way back, about 8 or 9 years ago. I knew this woman I found odd - I didn't understand the choices she was making. She intended and consequently did move to Germany to live. I didn't get it. I guess I've always been sort of nervous about a country that is blamed for starting 2 world wars. [Fleiss purrs warmly at me.] [Funny, I'll be looking after Richard's cat while he is out of town this coming week. Very ironic. I am a ver y different person from him though. The exchange will not be symmetrical at all. His cat will be alive and well when he returns. I wonder if he really understands yet about what it is like to have a being relying on you. I wonder this. Much fluffy cat fur on the keyboard now.]

I forget her name.. Amanda? Jane? Something plain. She had a lot of chips on her shoulder about things. And at the same time her sense that Germany is a better place to live arose from her knowitng that there, people didn't know how to enforce the causes of the chips... there she didn't need them. A little more work here would have found her the same thing, but at the time I didn't know that. She simply opened up the possibility space for me. My eyes saw that the option space was much bigger. This was back when I lived with Peter inteh basement of our townhouse. We lived in that basement for 5 years, renting out the three nice rooms and the upstairs almost entirely to university students. [This is source of all of our current prosperity -- not the business, but the financial baseline that lets us play in other ways. First one townhouse with high income potential -- it is beside a high density university. Then a lovely 3 story house in a nice neighbourhood inthe city - still we took the nastiest unit, and rented out the nice ones. (the basement again -- if you ever hear me talk about the days of living inthe basement, this is it... the feeling that money is made by giving th egood parts to others and keeping subsistence for yourself. It works, but it takes a toll on the spirit.)]

So I saw that, even if I didn't understand this option she chose, there were options open that I could consider. Around then I started talking about travelling to finish my schooling...[finish yeah right. I did it not to finish but to do something instead of nothing. I still do something instead of nothing, although this something makes me feel better tha that soemthing did. Curious. ]

If one thing feels better than another, should I choose it over the other? Is hedonism, considered as the pursuit of pleasure, really all that choosing to live amounts to? No. I refuse this answer. There has to be more than the wiring we arrive with to help us -- a set of standards that help to rise higher (in what sense though?).


Mon Apr 1 1996

The random letters that spill out that way are probably a lot like fingerprints, unique to each of us.

I've been feeling distorted, flashbacks arriving faster and faster suddenly. Disassociation. I'm not sure why anything is or isn't. A puzzle. Simply the weather - spring inthe air - or something more / less.

The lack of pressure now that having a building has different people involved (not me so much as others) than buying a building did. [As the plants absorb the waater into the soil, Fleiss attacks them for they are celebrating noisily in their pots.] This has changed certainly, but could it really be the cause - a cause - of my strange feeling inside?

A puzzle to weather out. I don't know where to begin on this since I must run to dress for a meeting. Funny. I found haging around Tracey difficult yesteray. We relaxed in her house, something whcih I always resist to some extent. I am not at home there because of the other people who hurt her and who also live there. Abused people often don't leave when they need to for foolish reasons which are nevertheless powerful reasons. But I do resent her trying to draw me into a system of that sort to relax into it. I don't expect she'd want to see me abused, but I do think she enjoys the accidental encounters that occur whenshe tries this. I wonder if she actually even needs such encounters. These are not bad people, and I believe that she is as much an abuser of them as they are of her. She feels that they owe her something because of blood ties, and they feel similarly.

This strange compromise she lives with, perhaps abuse is too strong a word, hurts me, but it couldn't be the cause of my strange inner confusions now. Tracey's situation has been this way for years. And in some sense I personify half of the dilemma. Sigh. Another Rosalinda situation. We watched her tape of Pulp Fiction yesterday in part because her brother and his new wife sent the message that the tape was messed up. Turns out the tape was absolutely fine. I suspect and so does she, that these people were more or less censoringhte movie itself - the content was messed up. :) Middle class (Tracey would say "white trash" since it is her family) values at their finest.

What is in my brain... why is it schizzing around like this? I want simply to do something different now. Even though I like what is here and now. A natural change mechanism? Wow. Or just spring fever. How will I tell? I am usually more aware than this.

dress for the meeting

a day without sunshine, or, validation.

Tue Apr 2 1996

7 am: reading email

6 am: talking with Niels

5 am: crazy spring cats awaken me in time to make coffee before Niels calls

7 am: Validation. Over the last few days this concept has emerged as important to people. Richard claiming that the weak need it. Tracey claiming that to receive validation is often crucial. I'm relatively inbetween these two extremes. ... VALIDATION ... rather I'd say that I'm really acting independently of this social game. To me, vaidationis only rarely an issue any more.

8 am: Time to have some breakfast, smile at the world, and get to work!!

Easter Friday.

Fri Apr 5 1996

It's really early, 6am, and the bath water is running. Holidays are so frustrating... I want to work, keep pushing through the exciting bits and pieces of my life, and poof, a vacation. I think I'll fiddle with some websites this afternoon to make the work environment a little more enriched. This foolishness will continue for a wekk or so with birthdays: Tracey's was two days ago, mine is next week followed by Peter's the next day.

I'm tired of waiting for the closing date on my building. I sit with my fingers crossed, preparing either to move in to it, or start a bid on another one. It should go well. It should. Will it? I want to pray. Hope and waiting are very hard. I am active, proactie usually, and take things into my own hands when I want them. if nothing else grad school and leaving it taught me that. I may not be a Unabomber, but I do act onmy convictions - even if I'm still pretty sure "having beliefs" is merely a way of talking, and not something I store in my brain.

Ye gads... go have a bath.


Fri Apr 5 1996

I wonder what life is about... sitting here eating lunch, reading terribly stupid books. It is complicated to keep things interesting and meaningful. People are a basic requirement for that though. They are simply the most complex things around. Social structures, minds. Interesting beyond a doubt to me, but in person more than otherwise.

As of yet, I haven't determned how to really have a social life. There are the few individuals who I maintain close and regular contact with, and then there is supposed to be a larger circleof socializing that I still lack. That one is harder, and although I've tried to become included by including others in my social plans, this hasn't worked. A wonderful example of this are two people I know. For all the effort I've gone to in creating interesting events - to my taste of course, and perhaos not to theirs - they won't return an invitation ever - unless I'm simply useful to theri plans that is. I was asked whether I'm upset with them. I lied and said I wasn't. I simply don't find their friendship worth the further effort. I'll edit them out of future invitations simpy for lack of reciprocation. Perhaps they have nothing to reciprocate with, but I doubt it. An investment in social events should lead to payoffs. Maybe in some future world.

Now while Richard is travelling and Peter is sick, and Tracey wades through her final month in school I am rather alone. Waiting on my building's purchase, waiting for my friends to unisolate from me, waiting for the snow to melt again. It is amusing that what I pursue does not lead me out into the world as a world. This city is so happening, and yet I sort of stay away from it. I have been into it much more inthe past two days without people around though. It is much nicer for me as a person to have all these peoplemissing. I think that was what I liked about living in Pittsburgh. No people I knew. I had to make all the effort socially every single time I wanted to do anything socially. Now too. But it hurts so much. This freedom - for that is how it feels - nevertheless hurts terribly. I feel like a loser essentially in not being pursued by anyone. :) Childish hormone thought.

I've tried for the ast two weeks to feel exactly comfortable with who I am, and have gained a few pounds as a consequence. Cute. I'll go back to being a tad insecure... neat experiment. I suspect that I could easily become happily comfortable with who I am, and at the same time blimp out. At my height that would be a little scary. Funny these thoughts wondering around .. menial thoughts.

I really love the feeling of being successful in business. I haven't ever really felt so alive andpowerful - incontrol ofmy own life. I have the luxury of cashing inthe success for what I want. I choose tolerance for my eccentricities, and luxuriessness about my own fragilities. A wonderful thing I've done for me. I had this long overdue book for hte library that I returned. I owed $8 in back fines. When the librarian told me I could let it slid until next time, I refused, saying quite honestly that the library would make better use of it than I would. She smiled in surprise.

The really funny thing is that I don't wnat allthe money I've been pulling in. Sure, I like to be comfortable and well fed, and I like to go shopping for cool things. But really I don't want the money. I use what I need to, and the rest simply accumulates. Hence the building. Something to do with a pile of money, and funnily enough, it will only produce more money. I won't really be getting rid of it.. it'll simply look different for awhile.

I like giving to people who really value money actaully. I don't suspect this includes most street bums, most middle class people, most rich people, most anyone... but it does include a few people and organizations that I've met. I'm also tempted to use it to convince situations to go my way. It is easier to get what I want with it.

I don't really care about the taxes either. I used to when paying taxes was indeed lowering my standard of living, back in grad school days. Now it simply doesn't.

For Tracey's amusement, we are off to The Oracle Tearoom this afternoon. Amusing indeed -- palm reading and high tea. :) Two rituals in one.

fortune serving.

Sat Apr 6 1996

I hate holidays.

The fortune teller told me that I am a great driver and that I like to drive, that I shall end up in L.A., that biz will go well this week, I'll get the building by Tuesday, and that I will go home this weekend. Yeah right. Where is that? A nice shot since I am oneof the fewif not the only person wh odoesn't do holiday rituals & doesn't have family pressure to do so. She told Rose and Tracey lots of things that they were a little serious in taking as right. Interesting.

In the shower just now I was thinking about my increasing discomfort in visiting Tracey's home. She lives in this suburban house with her parents and up until recently her brother. Now it is funny that one of my standards of adulthood is that a person live on their own, away from the nest of birth, and often away from the nest of marriage too. I've always made an exception for her. Tracey has high dreams and lives in reality - not in the dreams. These latter tend not to come about as often as they are created. One of her dreams has been a wonderful place of her own - a place of peacefulness to write in.

There in the shower, I was pondering about why I am really more and more resistant to visiting there. I've always attributed it in part to my feelings about her parents, nice enough people, and in part to my validating Tracey's position against theirs (and this regardless really of who I think is in the right). But small talk with your average citizen is really dull. She [mothers hate being called "she"] up until recently worked as an exec secretary all her life. He is a union man, once a company man. Collectivists really I don't know what to say to them ever. They think I'm an alien bug - I dress funny, I talk funny, and I sure as hell act funny. They are really bothered by me. Around Tracey's house and throughout her extended family, there are alliances. Allies gripe about non-aligned persons. That is the substance of most conversations within an alliance and between them.

Tracey is in one camp - the camp that can be compared to the American Democrats - liberal in thinking, open minded to a fault, able to be satisfied with having little. Every other member of the household is in another alliance - easily compared to Repubicans. Hence my bug status. [funny that my recent biz success including then building and tv appearances is changing that but only slowly]So she gripes a lot to them, and about them. Further she claims - this subtlety eludes my vision - that her parents are an exclusive band unto themselves - excluding even her, their daughter.

I thought maybe they are just growing more irritating as time goes on. Maybe they are getting worse. Maybe they hate Tracey now. Maybe they do want her to be their housewife or to move out. I can't really tell.

I do know that Tracey has a lot of people believing this, and now that she is in her final semester of school, she is highly pressured to move out, get a full time job, and generally comform to all their other values too. Maybe that is what is going on.

My sense of unease grows further at that point. I'm not finding an answer in looking at judging them solely.

And then it hit me in the shower. I went to that wedding. I sat with her entire family at a really intimate event. In fact I sat in the bench and table of honour at the various parts of the event with Tracey and her parents and grandfather. I was treated as if part of the family, even by her parents, and even if in the wrong alliance.

My whole defense system crashed to pieces. The problem is that we do share a lot in common. Their whle scene is very similar to the one I dumped in total many yers ago. The middle class parties, the desire for a nice house and cars and kids. The social obligations to people you don't much approve of. What have I done? I don't want to pressure Tracey to do what I did. But I need to find a way to detach and become aloof again from their social web of emotional pressure and nasty joking.

Suddenly it even becomes clear to me the role Tracey plays. At least a part of what she is to me. I did have a sister - who hates me darkly. she always has. Tracey is remarkably like her without the hatred of me. She likes me even for the very reasons Jennifer hated me.

Some of what happens brings out things in me that I'd rather not act on. An ascerbic and effect wit designed to hurt other people. I desire to get away at any cost. A strong feeling of claustrophobia in the middle class values of maintenance (house cleaning), the hard work ethic dogma: effort is more important than inspiration.

I did a really effective job of defending myself from these things I grew up with. Really effective. I dumped those unitellectuals like hot potatos as soon as I was legally allowed to. But did I really get rid of what I thought I did?

I didn't meet Tracey until I was about 24. We did not know each other before that. And yet, I grew up not 20 miles from where Tracey did. We attended schools in the same system. We were the intelligent older sisters made to feel like space bugs for being that way. We both needed to get away and create life without continuing the mold they tried to pass on. And we both did that. Is this a coincidence?

But I did something extra. I simplied expelled the people of horror from my life. I am totally responsible for who I am - I know this. Yes, later I met people and cultivated relationships that form the core of my chosen family. And yes, I learned values and received guidance from them. But I chose these people, each one. Tracey hasn't done this. So why do I find friendship and even comfort in being her friend? Do I have the values in me in spite of the rebellions I undertook?

Her new sister-in-law is her "sister" now. When she said this in the car yesterday, I felt really hurt. She values this stuff still. I already knew that, but I didn't know that I was in a competition for the good treatment she is capable of generating. And really I'm not. Tracey is kind and generous and warm - even when not treated well. But especially when she is.

I feel like crying really. My heart has been broken. I suddenly became an insider emotionally in my own heart intheir family. I'm pretty sure they don't see it that way, although they were never the one's keeping me out - I was. And because I wanted to go to this wedding, and because the sermon was so interesting and right about what friendship is, I foolishly now think that I am connected to these other people. What a ripoff to my real friends I must be now.

So with my immune system weakened, with my feelings out on a limb, I can once again realise that I really do love and care for Tracey, and that I couldn't give a hoot about her relatives. They are her support system, and although they are not for her inthis way, she needs them. But that is all they are to me. I'd have to want unchosen friends to go any further in this. I don't. I already have too many ofthose here and there anyway,and these ones have nothing to offer me except Tracey's long term safety and happiness. So I should get over myself.

Family resemblances indeed. Yeah they could have been my parents. really they were. Although the Meyer's are an older Ontario family with built-in stay-togetherness, and the Burke's weren't eith er of these things, the elements of American Dream overlayed with Canadian socialist values are the same in both clans. The neighbourhoods were the same. The sexism and intelligence predjudices were the same. The bad get togethers were the same. Conversational lowest common denominator events with booze.

This opening up of the social channel in me has surprising drawbacks.

Having my regular people out of my local social life for a few days has some surprises too. My own head is interesting without all the distracting socialization. A time for re-balancing.

I probably just need to get laid, right Trace? :)

orange feather dusters.

Sun Apr 7 1996

There are some things that any person would not do. I wonder what these are.

late Easter night.

Sun Apr 7 1996

I can't see th eketboard at all - the lightbulb inhere is burnt out, adn there is a blizzard outside the window. I guess I'll type worsethan usual.

I'm finding my isolaltion feet now. Back to doing thsoe things I was doing a year ago to keep myself company. Writing more, reading library books again - although frankly I've read them all, going to movies by myself. I'm one of those people who I guess just needs to talk. If it weren't for the social censure, I'd talk aloud to myself all thetime. Maybe that's what this diary space is - I'm not exhibitionist really, just talkative. I could easily start doing htat on the street. I wonder though that it isn't acceptable at al to do so. And I'm not really willing to do more than mumble inthe street.

I'll find people to talk with again shortly. Even email I've been replying to hasn't been lucrative. And Niels seems to have gone offline, at least with me. I ahoulsn't gripe likethis though - Mo[ppins sits here on my knee - really uncomfortableon the floor likehtis - and wants me to polay with her. So does Fleiss. I just saw Il Postino and feel like using metaphots too. I like inspriing movies. Creative inputs with a little conceptual complexity. Didn['t like the movie much though, just th einteresting people in it. People like that are inmy life but currently they are so familiar. So I sit here and simply continue trying to convince myself that solitude is ok. It isn't. I feel like a loser when I don't have other people to play with. Simple.

I find myself hopinghtat people will recognize me in the outside. A couple have but hten I really don't know what to make of it. How to use that in to help themeven further past my icey coldness - shyness and snobbery and speaking a different (sometimes uptight and sometimes too creative) language.

No soap opera today. Simply real isolation. Even a few phone calls don't make up for feeling alone now. Funny that I don't call up people I know are here and about - it is too much to take on, trying to socialize for lesser returns than I nromally expect from my closer friends. I like this internal sensationthough. I am happy despite this strangeness of having nothing much to do. Today besides playing with cats, and eating, and reading, amd for ht efirst time ever since living here (over a year) braving the laundremat next door, and watching a movie, and responding to email, I sat around my computer [Moppins is sstaringinto my eyes while I write.] making up interview packages for this coming week. We are hiring bigtime, adn I'm the head bureaucrat. Giggle. It's quite amazing that because I have th emoney to do so, I get to decide who to hire an dwho not to. Wow. Very cool. I wonder that people cannot tell that OUCH... head hurts.

It stopped. My real fear about living alone is the length of time someone would miss me if something happened. That scares me. Always has. I use dot require that someone be where I lived, even if simply sleeping, all the time at night. I've learned not to be scared here where I live right now. But I do hide here quite a lot too. I haven't hidden today. But... even now it feels like it. Good thing I have other people tied in with my life inother ways, helping keep me involved inthe world. Funny... I can be a bigwig business person one moment and a chicken shit the next about such similar things. I'd rather be on a talk radio show with Bill Carroll then aloneinthe dark. Moppins is offended at that remark. She left.

I will too. It's 10:10pm and past my bedtime. Awww how cute.


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