I'm listening to my godmother, over the speaker phone, telling my mom, "you have an incredible story to tell, people can't write that stuff" and that she is strong and adaptable and lovely. 

She is so beautiful and graceful and positive. My mother makes my world better and beautiful.


And Sophie, the puppy, is running around growling at her self in the mirror, jumping on Bart's, the older dog, face, and licking, the cat, Cleo on her cheeks.

And Dad is going to bring home something delicious for dinner.

And I have too many hours at work.

And rereading Harry Potter never loses its luster. 

And Doug, my best friend, and Ian, my brother, and Lindsey, his girlfriend, are coming over tomorrow for Fourth celebrations tomorrow.


This is how I make life worth it. What inspirations I have in my life, what a life I've had, what a life we will all have! 

I wish people would show more respect. It's as if the majority of the population forgot the golden rule.
People die everyday, all the time, every millisecond, every where on the planet. Everything dies, everything ends. So it goes.
Just because a person is famous doesn't give anyone the right to disrespect them. They are still dead. They still lead a life. They still deserve respect. 



Not jokes, not the rule of three, not (feeding into the) media hype.

( Sophie, our newest Humane Society rescued puppy, is very wonderful. )

I've been reading a lot but. But.

I want a man with broad shoulders. So much to ask?

It's time I get my "thing together, yeah". Around here.

Home again, home again. With green tea and delicious cheeses and pastas. 

I'm looking into feng shuiing my room. The book I'm reading is quite interesting and helpful.

I'm in such a good head space.

Not regressing. 



Harboring visiting friends from CSF late tonight, on their way through to Portland. 

Then job hunting, meals with friends, and gardening.

Sitting in my empty room.

Sarah is the biggest help and the bestest friend. Said goodbyes to who I could. I can't wait to hug Mom and Dad. Seeing Devin soon. And Doug.

Leaving Santa Fe in eight hours and seventeen minutes. It feels very strange but mostly as if it isn't happening at all. 

It will be nice to be on the road.

Life. Lives. Living.

I love desert skies, bees, trees, and beets. I love peace, births, and energy embraces. I love understanding, laughter, and intimate friendship.
I love open, humble, aware, and down to earth minds. I love everything.

You're beautiful. The one and only springtime and I'm changed. 

"I couldn't tell us apart. Oh, and I know neither could you."

I wish I could summarize and verbalize my thoughts and feelings of being here and leaving here and hope it comes to me.

 "Who would have thought you would turn out to be the nice guy?"

He certainly did.

Because on the other side,

"The measure of a person is not the mistakes they make, it's how they respond to them."

 Last night was stellarly amazing. One might ask themself why it has to always get so good at the end of it all. It had to be that good because it had to force me to really appreciate this place, coming to this school, and meeting these people.

Why, when I'm able, should I make something that is pulled out no where, without a point, that I consider inane and ineffectual, or that lets me down?  So out of fear of disappointing my own self worth I don't write, I don't actually make anything. But perhaps if I read enough or watch enough of the people I revere I will be able to grasp onto whatever it is that make their work so staggering and then it will lead me to a place that I am capable of and someday I will be able to create something great.

Is it really possible to "learn to see things differently without all of the same tired associations we've made all of our sad lives"?

But none of us may be here tomorrow.