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I woke feeling a bit blue this morning, in truth, I went to bed feeling a bit blue. I think I suffer from a feeling of lack, when good things are happening, I fear they'll stop. I see it, which is good. Because a lot of things are beautiful right now;  I'm a bit off balance. I'm not sure that's a bad thing though. I need my time in silence.

I meditated and did some practices and could feel strength pouring into my core. I just downloaded several new yoga practices, I may just do yoga all day. I've cleaned a bit,  done laundry, will chat with parental units, then get on the mat. I feel like being very quiet.

Yesterday I went to my neighborhood library branch and returned Jonathan Franzan's Freedom. What. A. Read. He is a brilliant writer. The library was closed due to lack of funding. The main library is downtown, but I'm not in the mood for the ugliness of downtown today.

After a lot of yoga, I'm going to start rereading The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano. That will keep me busy. I want to read 2666, but will try to find a used version since it will take a long time to read. Last time I read Savage Detectives I was transported, inspired, confused, entertained, renewed. It's an amazing book. Anyone read it?
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I like the look and feel of the fog today, it's cool outside and somewhat somber. The last several days were beautiful and sunny and I welcome the change. Such light filled days carry expectations that didn't mesh with me.

Waves ripple and undulate inside me, synapses are moving and reconnecting, a new place lives inside me that somehow reinforces the core of light  I "re-discovered" after the assault. All these are physically tangible to me, I feel them; old cells are being replaced, like normal I guess, but I don't usually feel them..

I don't feel like "myself", I'm eating less, my organs seem to be shifting around, yet I feel I'm becoming.

Yesterday was a day where I sank very low and felt a very quiet intense rage inside. A strange and horrible day; a day of frustration and loneliness and seemingly nothing coming in. I sat at the computer too long; I didn't meditate, I read, but fell asleep. I couldn't write. The sun made the day seem too happy and full, why wasn't I?  All the street noise and neighbor urban noise was torturing my every nerve.

I literally forced myself to do yoga at about 5 . Yoga, yoga, yoga. I always feel like rock star when I'm done.

I bought an airline ticket to go home for Thanksgiving, Monday through Friday. I have a couple things to write, I have my part-time job and hopefully more happening as this day goes on.

A livable paycheck makes you free in this world. My family is behind me and for the first time ever, I'm receiving more graciously. I believe that was another lesson from my sojourn to the desert. Nothing taken yet, but it's coming. Just a little.

I feel as if I'm hustling my ass off, but when the results are so tiny, I wonder why I can't find the path. Where the hell is the path?
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I heard about this Feral Houses essay on a Slate podcast and checked it out.  I think some of my friends here will appreciate what these pictures evoke in us.  I love them for the obvious yet still compelling feelings they bring out; fantasy, history, the people who lived there, beauty, nature, time passing...


Everytime I pass by a guy I work with and glance over, he has a betting website up.  It doesn't concern me, but it amuses me greatly.  Does anyone else see this?  Websurfing is pretty much allowed, we're online all day doing our work and we all check our favorite stuff all day too, but this seems to me to be a bit unprofessional, stupid, careless?  Is it just me?  Is he addicted?  I am fascinated.


More and more I work on not letting the fear activists get to me.  I'm not afraid. I remind myself to not be afraid.   Don't let the news, people, family, state of economy, etc. make you afraid.  Be sensible, have a plan.  Live your life and don't be afraid.


The last few weeks I've dreamed about an exboyfriend who was in my life far too long, my fault.  In the dreams, he is an idealized version of the guy I knew.  I haven't figured out what is prompting me to conjure him up.  The dreams are lovely.  I don't think they're accurate.


I finally went back to yoga class after almost 3 weeks.  I had been doing my own thing at home, but it's not the same.  The only thing that got me through was knowing how I would feel and be, afterwards.  I sweated more than I ever have, probably a combination of not going, the motrin and erythrocin I was taking for my tooth.  Wednesday and last night.  I feel lighter, taller, clearer, cleaner, more pliant.  Good stuff even when it's like slogging through quicksand in 105 degree heat for 90 minutes and then sweating all night.


I got 3 corrospondances from the Victim Compensation Insurance.  They're reimbursing work for my 5 sick days, that's good, I'll get them back and hope to use them if there's a trial, I don't want to use vacation.  We'll see how that goes. I wonder if I'll even be working there when it all goes down.

They're paying for the shrink.

They're not paying for the car wash/detail I got, saying that a crime scene clean up requires professionals, etc.  I'm going to appeal it.  It happened in the car.  We'll see.  I never get my car detailed.  I'm a $7 drive through car washer, and only in the summer.  (When it's not raining).

I haven't submitted everything.  I'll start on the next round.


Yay Saturday!!


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