My Mind

Music: Motino Unit, Andain, Rabbit in the Moon


I'll say that this hasn't been the most creative of times for me...
And contrary to the time of Toni's and my trip to Pennsylvania, I am neither making leaps nor bounds in the evolution of my ideas and beliefs.
But in the evolution of myself, (ideas and beliefs included), I am moving along steadily.
I am a turtle. Turtle good. Rabbit too crazy.
As in all areas of life, I find that my personal progress is best kept out of my hands.
Not being omniscient, I am obviously incapable of knowing what is best for me, and would, therefore, be making descisions and assumptions based on incomplete, and more than likely, incorrect data.
So slow and steady it is.

I am a mere physical facilitator.
I ask myself questions.
I read books.
I interact with the world.
I think on things lightly and put them to bed in my mind.
And always, sooner or later, what I wanted to know, or needed to know in some cases, occurs to me.
Maybe my mind needs time to assimilate before it can fully understand the question, and then goes through my brain, picking through pieces of stored information like tomatoes in a supermarket.
If that's the case, then these answers that come to me are, just as the info stored in my brain, likely incomplete and incorrect.
But I don't believe that.
I think they are from somewhere beyond me.
Call it what you want
.Argue with me if you think you have to.
But to me it's not debatable.

This is a relinquishing of power. A giving up.
Not only do I not know everything, I don't know anything.
So I give up my puny mental faculties and let the universe answer for me.

But am I strong enough to give up in every area of my life?
Because to even hold on to one thing, it still holding on.

In my higher moments, (no, not that kind of high), I am aware, and I try.
I suppose that in moments higher than that, which I don't really have yet, "there is no try, there is only do," to quote Mr. Miyagi.
In my normal moments, I forget and I make plans and get pissed off in traffic.
In my lowest moments, I am a snotting blob on the floor, crying at the terrible failure I've made of my life.
That's usually only during PMS time, when my defenses against the monster of my inner cesspool are too low for me to stop it.

But my attachment to plans thins, and I make less and less all the time.
I'm learning.
Change is slow.

And then there's the attachment to these ideas, these concepts.
Oh flow impeding attachment, why is my grip so strong?
(At least I'm not displacing blame.)
Hard to hang on and go with the flow at the same time.
Ask a swimmer. They shave everything.

So maybe I have been creative lately.
Creating my self.
Or maybe I shouldn't take credit for that.
Definitely I shouldn't.

So maybe I've been a cleaner conduit for change lately.
A conduit for the creative force to manifest.
But then aren't we all, all the time. Little catalysts.
I guess it's just about being open. Declogging your pipes.

Switch Open.

I really don't know what I'm talking about.
It's just feeling good to write.

Listening to My Mind by Motion Unit, getting goosebumps.
Now Make Me by Andain.
It's a new mix cd I made for myself, and it's worth its weight in gold. Platinum. Plutonium. Uranium.
That Motion Unit song is very obscure.

I'm leaving Seattle tomorrow. Not that I mentioned that I'm in Seattle. I'm going back to Austin, and I'm very much looking forward to 4 days of solo time on the drive home. Time to sing, see some beautiful country, practice my seated rave dancing, and to then arrive in Austin to my boyfriends open arms and hard cock.
Good times.
I'm hungry.
Peace out.

So long since I've written
I don't really feel like it now
Changed all of my links
Into a spotted cow
Toni: drinking coffee
Russ: playing guitar
I: wanting some coffee
Don't want to drive my car
Don't want no instant coffee
Don't want no gd tea
Don't want to write no posties
And tweedle deedle dee

Listening to: Motion Unit- My Mind (in my head)

My life...consumed by scarves

Ever since I learned to crochet, I haven't really stopped. I've already developed a mild case of carpal tunnel.
Is that how you spell it? I don't give a shit.
Two scarves and counting.
And now I have this new burst of learning confidence.
I'll be able to play piano relatively well in a week, if some one shows me how, and doesn't fuck around.
No baby steps.
My brain isn't in writing mode really.
It is deeply attached to my fingers and their weaving rythm now.
Typing is good.
Thinking not so good.
Ug not like think.
Ug want bang.

9:00 a.m.

Purple sweater, dirty teeth, dirty tongue, dirty gums.
Water for tea heating.
Stomach grumbling, (she's not a morning stomach).

I learned to crochet (single stitch) last night.
I made about 1/6 of a scarf with rough baby yellow, blud, and pink yarn.
Forget about the other 5/6's.

Harry is chasing James' shoelace around.
Harry is a cat.
This is normal.

I'm going to swim some laps in the Rockport outdoor heated public pool later.
Believe it or not, a pool does need to be heated in the Corpuc Christi area in Fabruary.
Nice typo. I'm leaving it.
Because isn't February just Fabulous?

Then, later, we're going to "town".
Which means Corpus Christi proper.
And I'll be getting real soft yarn. Oh yeah.
And then we'll see about 6/6 of a scarf.

Okay stomach!
Damn.

Desperation Dissipating

Feeling good.
Got no plans.
Only sketches.

But you know, I have a dream.
I just realized it about a week ago over Mr. Gatti's pizza buffet.
(Not very good pizza.)
I felt it up and down, squeezed here, poked it there, sniffed it a little.
I realized that it was infact, just as I had feared, some silly fantasy.

I felt like a 6 year old boy, looking longingly after a passing fire truck.
That is a dream.
To want to do something, or to be something, just because you get a very deep happy tingle when you imagine it.
Just because you think it's that fucking cool.
And it is not something to be embarassed about, so you never have to bullshit when someone asks you why you want to do it.

Someone: "Why do you want to travel Candice?"
Me: "Oh, you know, experiencing different cultures, meeting people, see the world....(more generic cop out answers)"

And those are just the one's I tell complete strangers in light conversation.
You should hear the bullshit I whip up in heavier conversation with my friends.
Lordy lord.
But what do you expect. I've only just admitted it to myself.
I want to travel because I want to be a traveller, a wanderer.
Here's what I wrote in my real journal.

"I want to be a world wise, seasoned traveller, with friends around the world, always getting into adventures, with a million stories, who visits her family, but never for long, because something inside her says she needs to leave.
A wanderer who follows her gut, with scars and their tales, experiences of danger, close calls, magic, whimsy, discovery."

I want to travel to be that person.
Maybe I've invented that her.
No passing fireman for me to emulate.
I guess that's why it's called a dream.
And I feel pretty lucky that I still have one.

Alone Day

Today is my day alone.
James is doing some dork HFS thing, and I spent almost 4 hours at the gym.
Why?
I don't exactly know.
I'm at the library again, and as my computer time ticks away, I am realizing that that's okay.
I didn't even really want to write on here anyway.
I'm doing it out of some ridiculous imaginary obligation.
I'm going to head over to Book People after this, maybe get some coffee, maybe a sweet, and wait for James, because that is where we are meeting.
I have to pee.
I'm going to have to work this week.
I am not thrilled about this.
By the way, my job, which usually I would try to be discreet about, is as a stripper.
Yep, there you go.
I'm feeling kind of blunt right now. Maybe too honest.
But I am really waiting for the day when some one asks me about what I do, and I don't cringe with dread.
Some day I won't be a stripper.
Who know's what I'll be then.
Maybe a diving instructer.
Mayeb a Grand Canyon rafting guide.
Maybe a National Geographic photographer.
Maybe a CPA.
Or maybe I'll stop, for real, identifying my self with what ever I have to do to make money.

"I can't afford to waste my time making money.".........Agassiz (or so I've heard)
I think I'll make a t-shirt.

Austin to Mexico

Back in Austin now.
I was so apprehensive at first to come back. Back to the same things, same places, scared of falling into the same routine.
But now I am here and I'm excited, because although I could practically drive around Austin blindfolded, it is my favorite of the places I've lived.
I like it here. I think my problem is that I haven't been on a good long adventure in a year and a quarter.
So right now I am in Austin, and I'm liking that, and it is a stepping stone. I am trying to get out of Austin.
Here is the land of my opportunity. I am going to collect money, read some books, and work on becoming a stronger swimmer (for surfing), for the next month and a half. Then it's on to Mexico.
I am so excited about Mexico.
I am ready.
To wander for a couple months, surfing, learning spanish, meeting people, trying food, being dirty, probably getting the shits a couple of times.
Oh my god! I am at the library right now, and right as I was writing about getting diarrhea, I smelled this smell behind me. I truned around and saw a homeless person walking away from me, with a big shit stain on his/her pants. So gross!
Yeah.... Mexico....
I am ready to travel out of America. Seen too much of her. And I know that her soul and mine do not match. I will never feel at home with her people and I will never share the same desires with them. But my place is out there, and my people live there. Maybe. Maybe they're just pieces scattered throughout the planet, and it is my lot to collect them, wandering until I die.
Right there. That is a topic I want to elaborate on, alot. I'm not focused enough here, so I'll do it later.
Oh yes, Mexico.
I am in the door way to the rest of the world, looking out, ready to take my first step. But I'm taking baby steps. I've got my whole life, and I'm feeling very very happy now.
Mexico, here I come!

Last Night

James and I walked four times around the detention pond. That's 1 1/3 mile.
We were very stoned. I kept forgetting what we were talking about. It was dark, no street lights around, and the markings on the cement made by rain and use, looked like sidewalk chalk. I stopped and bent down and looked at it, and it still looked like neon sidewalk chalk. But for some one to color 1/3 of a mile of sidewalk is a ludicrous. So, I was hallucinating.
And when a hallucination still appears what it appears upon investigation, it's a little, I don't know, unsettling.

I also came up with, what is very likely, the most awesome cat name ever.
"Fishes"
I was having a fantasy about having a cat called Fishes that I would pet and sing "I love fishes cause he's so delicious!" to.
You know, like the goldfish commercials.

Question: My Stepdad and James were talking outside, drinking. My stepdad asked James if he's with me because he feels bad, or something to that effect.
What the fuck does that mean? I know what it sounds like to me, but I'm going to pretend that that isn't what he meant. Any suggestions? Toni?
Yeah.

The water is back on today and I'm still in Houston. We'll probably leave today.
And go to what?
I don't know.
I just want to go surfing.

Leaving Houston!

So, I wake up this morning, excited to begin collecting my things, and to organize them into the van so we can get the fuck out, but, strange girl that I am, I decide to brush my teeth first.
I go into the bathroom, scoop the sleep from my eyes wih my ring fingernails, and lift the faucet lever, so the water will run, and after a minute, become hot. But the faucet just farts a little squirt of water, and then...nothing.
I check the other faucets. None of them work. I check the front door. There is a notice that the water service has been disconnected.
Super.
Leaving may be delayed.
I have laundry to do, and hair to wash, and teeth to brush, and oatmeal to eat. So many things, all requiring water.
Where is your holiday spirit Water Works?
Ham peddlers are very busy this time of year.

Thank the lord for toilet water tanks.
I'm drinking coffee my mom made early this morning, reheated.
Need I say more?

Subject change...

Let's say, hypothetically of course, that my period of desert lust had passed. Where would I want to go?
Mexico, baby.
Damn you James, always getting your way.
But for some reason, I really really want to hang out on the Pacific side for a while, taking dramamine and surfing, (hypothetically of course).
All day in the salty water, rising, falling with each passing wave, waiting for the one to ride, all the paddling, the sultry tropics, the midday rain (this time of year), the spanish I'll have to learn.
I don't know if we'll be able to take the van, which sucks.
I'm also excited about the van.
Oh well. One thing at a time. First, money.
That part is gonna suck.

Pattern Recognition Test

What they said:
"Sir Francis Galton, the cousin of Charles Darwin, first popularized the notion of measurable intelligence in the late 1800s. Charles Spearman later discovered that all mental abilities tend to correlate together when statistically analyzed. He called this G. Modern researchers tend to agree that there are two kinds of intelligence, crystallized intelligence (learned knowledge) and fluid intelligence (abstract processing ability). Most non-verbal intelligence tests measure the latter. Some research suggests that fluid intelligence may correlate best to G.

Your overall percentile is 87% which means you scored higher than 87% of the people who have taken this test. The internet population tends to be more intelligent so your percentile might be higher if the test taking sample was perfectly random. Keep in mind, taking this test more than once will render your percentile score inaccurate because the percentile score assumes these questions were fresh to the test taker.

The point of this test is to challenge you and show you how you compare to other test takers on a set of novel questions. Consequently, I need to keep the answers secret to protect the integrity of the test."

What I said:
"Aw yeah"

More on Truth and Illusion

"People are seperated from God by sin."
This is a quote from a book James was reading called Examine the Evidence, (which was anything but an examination of evidence), which caught my attention.
I think that it could more clearly be said, "People are seperated from god by the belief in the illusion that people are seperate from god."
So I guess, to me, to sin is to believe in illusion.

I've been talking alot about illusion and truth lately. I suppose that's because I've been thinking about illusion and truth alot lately.

I was talking to Toni one time, I think, about the ego being the only thing that seperates us from everything else, and that's only because it makes us believe that we are seperate from everything else.
So I guess, to me, the ego is a vehicle for "sin".

I'm weird.

Another quote:
"...only time stood between one face and another.".....Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
Maybe this doesn't make as much of an impression out of context, when you haven't read the book.
I won't try and explain.
You should read Siddhartha. It's one of my favorite books. I've read it 4 times. I will read it again.
(The quote is on pg. 150)

In response to Tino's response to my blog entry

"Truth is pain, that's why God banished Adam and Eve, they ate from the fruit of knowledge and you can't have critical thinking in a Utopia. Hence the term, ignorance is bliss. So now massive organized religions and spiritual groups, leaders, and cults have given us the opportunity to taking this burden from us once and forever by forgetting our critical thinking and accepting their beliefs without question. Heaven is just a metaphor for the lack of truth, so that makes Heaven a beautiful thing.
You want the truth, you can't handle the truth. Significant other cheating on you, you're dying soon, the emperor is not a god, physics makes us look small in the universe, biology (other than our brain means) proves we are no more superior than a pig." ......Tino's response.....

Ignorance is only bliss for some. Ignorance is a constant searching and restlessness for others. And there is no truth in the illusion of thought. Thought is like a veil. Truth is beyond thought, behind that veil.
And either you misunderstand with I mean by truth, or you disagree with it. Truth is what is not based on perception, it is what is not illusion, it is something you can find burried deep under the dogma shit of religion.
It is not what the president really did, because the president, his position, the things he did, are all illusion.

Truth is real reality, not perceived reality.
I am looking for reality.
I am looking for clarity.

And really think about that Adam and Eve thing. Think about how layered that story is. Think about all the different ways it could be interpreted. It can be an amazing myth, and there are many different ways it can be understood.
(I will give some ideas if you're actually interested, but it will be way too long to put here.)

And I disagree with you about heaven being a metaphor for lack of truth. In fact, I think it is opposite of that. Heaven is lack of illusion, total truth, being completely connected to what is real.
Truth.
Hell is lack of truth. Hell is ignorance. It is where most of us are. It is a place of ego, of ideas, of "knowledge".
Truth is truth. It is none of those things.

You wrote: "Significant other cheating on you, you're dying soon, the emperor is not a god, physics makes us look small in the universe, biology (other than our brain means) proves we are no more superior than a pig."

These things are not truth. These things are illusion.

Everything I Need To Know, I Don't...

The older I get, the more I learn, the more I experience, the more I realize I know nothing.

There's this:
Light always travels at the same speed relative to some observer, no matter what the relative motion of the observer. So, light emitted from a moving airplane does not travel with the speed of light plus the speed of the airplane, it travels with the "speed of light", no matter what the speed of the airplane! In a vacuum, light always travels at a speed of 299,792,458 meters per second, no matter how its speed is measured.

So, if I'm travelling at 299, 792,458 meters per second, then light is travelling at 299,792,458 meters per second faster than me.

That's how it is with the things I need to know.
No matter how how much closer I feel, or how quickly I feel I'm accelerating, I am still the exact same distance from wisdom. From truth.
The prophet Mohammed said something, which I'm probably screwing up, like the closer he is to knowing God, the farther he realizes he is from knowing god, or the more he realizes he has to learn.
Something like that.
(In my opinion, Mohammed, being an enlightened man of sorts, when saying "God", means truth. To me truth, or all that is not illusion, is God.)

So the more I think I know, the less I realize I do.
I suppose that's the problem with thinking.
It is all illusion, so rarely can truth be found in the mess of it.
So I suppose even more that the only way I will ever make progress, will be when I stop thinking about things, stop seeking, and start being.
And then I'll understand something about truth.
And then I'll understand that I really know nothing, that nothing is not me, that there is nothing to know.
That there only is.

Does this make sense?
No, not to me either.

Why?

Why did we have to play chess?
I am very competitive.
I suck real bad at chess.
I played against James.
I lost.
Now I'm in a bad mood.
I am a very poor sport. In fact, I think I shouldn't be allowed to play games at all. My brother, Stephen, is also a very bad loser. He throws controllers. I just get super pissed so I can't talk to anyone because anything I say will only be mean.
I don't understand it all.

I'm getting bored with keeping a blog.
I'm getting tired of whatever I write about.
It's not that interesting.
I don't even want to read it.
I don't even want to write it.
I'm going to go have some Reisling.

Superlog

James will be here in about 30 minutes.
Sometimes I'm thinking about it and I get nervous.
Sometimes I think about it and don't get anything at all.
Maybe it hasn't really registered.
Or maybe I'm just trying to avoid the nervous feeling in my tummy.

Don't want to write on here.
Just trying to distract myself while time passes.

Clever title

Christmas is over, I have no more work to do at Honey Baked, "slinging pork butts" as my mom likes to say. James is coming tomorrow, I exfoliated and shaved everything, and lotioned and oiled, and put whitening strips on my goddamn teeth. But, despite all this, I've managed to gain about 3 or 4 pounds over the past couple months. I've been eating meat. I know this isn't that much weight to gain, esp. at 5'9", but it's just enough to make me a little squishier than I like.
I watched the Texans kick the Panthers ass. I pissed my step dad and my step aunt off by not supporting our troops appropriately. I put filled a photo album I got for Christmas. I watched to Gunther video with my brother. I don't know why I'm listing off things I did today.
I realize that the content of this entry is substandard when compared with my usual jewels, but I am not giving a fuck.
Funny thing is, I actually have a few interesting things I could write about. But to be honest, I just don't really feel like doing it. I could, but don't want to. I'm not even writing in my normal journal lately.
I enjoyed the very hard work and interacting with people I did at Honey Baked so much that I think that's what I want to do. Have a normal job, and work very hard and interact with people, clothed. I want that. Not to be writing right now. Not to be indulging in my artistic fancies. Not living in that little private and secluded world of my creativity. I guess I just liked the feeling of a normal people reality.
I don't know what I'm talking about.
It just felt good.
I want to do that, and not this.
So i'm stopping for today.

Yeah

There will be two days of not writing for me.
My mom decided to hire me on for tomorrow and Christmas eve to work, selling ham.
Yes, I'll be a ham peddler, but only for two days.
We leave at 4:30 in the morning, and if tomorrow is anything like today, it will be 8:30 in the evening and we still won't be home.
For two days.
Not alot of time for writing.

I ate alot of barbeque tonight. Alot for me any way. And it was soooo good, but now I don't feel so good. Too much meat.
But barbeque is soooo good.

I don't really feel like I'm utilizing my last opportunity to write.
Fuck it.

War! Oppression! War! Violence!

War!
War!
War!

My stepdad is watching Band of Brothers again. Maybe the above song should say "American Propaganda!" too. Maybe.

I had a dream last night that my dad was in the same house with the uncle who molested my little sister. My dad wanted to fight him, so they went outside and started doing this ridiculous kung fu, sound effects and all. My uncle was in very good humor about it all, like it was a joke.
The next thing I know they're in the bathroom, some sort of out door bathroom. My dad has my uncle grab the shower curtain rod, and sews his fingers to his hands. I ask my uncle a question I can't remember now, but my dad has sewn his lips together. Dad rips the thread out so he can answer me, and none of this even seems to hurt my uncle.
The thread is left dangling from the corner of my uncle's mouth, the knotted end on the outside, and he moves it around with his tongue, saying that it bothers him.
Of all the things going on to be bothered by!
That's all I remember of that one.

But it reminds me...
Once, when I was about 8, I had been playing with my next door neighbor, Jessica, who was about 4, at our church. I had picked her up and accidentally dropped her, and she hit her head. She cried alot, but that was all the damage done.
So the next day my sister and I were out front of our house, playing, and Jessica's dad came up to us, and started yelling. He said I better never hurt his daughter again, and asked us how we'd like it if he tied us to the back of his car and dragged us down the street.
We said we wouldn't like that, and when he finished threatening us, (we didn't know we should have left), we went inside crying.
We told my dad what had happened, and he was furious. He went next door, started yelling at the guy, cursing, and said he was going to kick his ass. They ended up out in the street, my dad yanking his shirt off, very pissed, more yelling, ready to fight.
The guy ended up apologizing, and they never fought, but I was so suprised that my dad was going to fight for us. It made me kind of happy.
Now, much later obviously, I understand that we only got a dollop of this neighbor's anger.
He was a wife beater.
Once, when a bunch of us kids were playing around outside, we walked by their window, and he was hitting her in the head, and on the back and shoulders, with a rolled up newspaper. Like a dog.

And the universe comes full circle in my head.
But what does it mean?
What does it mean ?

The Trip to Hobby Lobby and Other Stories of Suburban Houston Time Wasting

Today I took a trip to Hobby Lobby with my brother, Stephen.
Three people called him on the 15 minute drive there, (he's very popular).
His girlfriend, Hoda, who I talked to on the phone for around 2 minutes, told me that she was making homemade pizza with her cousins, when I first realized I was hungry.

You don't want to let me go too long hungry.

Hobby Lobby didn't have quite the selection of those unmentionable things that I needed to make James' gift that I was hoping for.
I walked around forever, retracing my steps several times, before settling on anything.
Apparently Stephen was also not having a very easy time finding the unmentionable things he needed to make Hoda's necklace.
(Okay, I guess they aren't unmentionable.)
And I have experience with bead necklace making.
I'm actually pretty good at it. I've quite an eye for color, if I do say so myself.
Anyway...

So, I helped him out with the blueprints for the necklace, some how, inadvertantly making him feel stupid for picking out not very well matching beads.
I only said that they looked like cheap little kid beads, so I just don't see how he......
Oh.

So I apologized.
By then I'm starving, we're walking towards the cash register, and he picks up a pack of Mentos.
I tell him it's been a long time since I've had a Mento.
I ask for a pink one.
He says that he can't open the package until he's paid for it.
I tell him he can, as long as he doesn't rip the barcode.
So he decides to pop the package open with his thumb, as he'd seen the beastly overall wearing construction worker summoning woman do in the commercial.
He flips a lemon Mento on to the floor.
It breaks in half.
One piece lands near him, one, near neither of us.
I grab the farther half, blow on it, say, "Five second rule!" and eat it.
I don't even like lemon Mentos. I only like the pink ones.
This isn't one of my most shining moments.
This is why I shouldn't be allowed to get too hungry.
I get desperate.
Imagine where I could go from there...

So, I have $10.50 in quarters, and $1.00 in one dollar bills.
I don't want my brother to know this, because it is all the money I have, and I am slightly embarrassed, so I try and get him to go to a different register than me.
He won't go, so I do, and that part all worked out great, blah blah, it's not very interesting

Then we came home and I ate one piece of bread with alot of mustard and cheese.
I was still hungry, so I ate another slice of bread with alot of mustard and cheese.
And then I felt kind of silly for not just making a regular sandwich with two pieces of bread, alot of mustard, and cheese to begin with.

And now I'm here, writing this entry.
It feels just like that part in Spaceballs when Dark Helmet and his peeps decide to watch their copy of Spaceballs to see what Lone Star and his peeps are going to do later in the movie, and they fast forward it right to the spot where they're watching the movie, and they're just watching themselves doing what they're doing at that exact moment, on the screen.
Yep.
Just like that.

I am taking a sip of homemade raspberry beer.
Yum.
I am eavesdropping on my dad and aunt.
I am looking around the room trying to figure out what the next thing I'll say I'm doing will be.
Another sip of beer.
Looking at the ceiling fan.
Itching the inside of my nose...I swear it was just an itch.
Deciding to end this post.

Humiliation

Last night, I was laying in bed, with this horrible nervous feeling in my chest.This horrible guilt about some things I had done in the past.
Then I realized that, despite my attitude of not caring what people think of me, I actually always have, and the things I did in the past that I was feeling guilty about, I had done because I was seeking the approval, or esteem, or friendship of someone else.And these aren't things that I would think would win the approval, esteem or friendship of most people.Maybe I was just trying to fit in.
So that's good.Now instead of having consuming feelings of guilt, I get to work on the root of the problem.
This is kind of embarassing for me to admit, as I think it would be for anyone.No one wants to admit to doing anything, much less things to be ashamed of, to get acceptance from others.It's a little humiliating.But in my new humbleness on the matter, I can face the truth about myself, and actually get it worked out.
So, why am I posting this online for anyone to read?
I guess because putting it out there, where I know at least one person will read it, makes it real outside of my head, and in some one elses.It makes it something I can't just forget about, because some one else knows.The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I'm admitting it, and publicly.There's no going back on it now.