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Ringing

She has a classic jazz voice that feels like it is calling me home to my roots. Vexing me, on the matter, that I have not been true. I want to stretch my range;- push my limits,-see how far I can go. But somehow, in that I have gone astray from what I really am, and maybe that's where I should explore now.

I don't make much of myself when I try to abide by standard circadian rhythms. Reversely, I don't always make the most of myself when I've been awake for too long. There is really no guarantee that I'll make anything of myself at all. Some days fly by behind my eyes. Man I don't blink twice.
My mind and body;-one is hungry, the other, lethargic. I can't tell which is what.- But one of them is feeling completely constrained by the other.

Hard and Soft

I've grown accustomed to talking to you every day. Since I've begun to confide in you, I've been updating my own journal less. Using you as my human diary. Maybe that's not such a good thing. After all, it only seems romantic because of that song by Tony Tony Tone.

You punish me, by not calling for days after we argue. One is understandable, but any more than that is excessive. You expect me to believe you suddenly feel completely different about me? I don't buy it. I just sent a letter out today, that explains that I apologize for letting my temper take over so quickly; I did not adequately express myself, due to being so flustered in the moment. For that, I was wrong. My essential point is still valid though. 

We both need to respect each others outlined limits. It places one on edge to surmise that at any given moment, the other person plans to bulldoze through your comfort zone. Does it not? I am also at fault for not thoroughly addressing this aspect of kink earlier. Respect is sexy. It fortifies trust, and trust is needed. Ultimately, though- limits are not very sexy to discuss.

Amღr 29


I think I figured out why you didn’t receive any of your pictures and some of my letters. I read through the mail rules on the website the other day. It says you can’t possess more than 40 pictures at one time, and additional pictures are considered contraband. It said you couldn’t trade the pictures in your possession with ones being kept from you, so it seems you have to throw them away. If you write down the numbers of the ones you want reprinted after all is said and done, I will do that for you. It might be best to throw mine, because I can guarantee they’re replaceable. I could also get a bunch of pictures printed onto one bigger page. Do you know if there are mail size restruictions? It’s also strange they haven’t contacted you about this. It says in the rules that they would make you choose whether you want to cover the costs of returning them to sender, or having them destroyed. That almost makes me unsure of whether it would even behoove you to throw the ones you have away? But if you did, then you would, for all intents and purposes, no longer be in possession of them..? I wonder why they have that rule. Its really fucked up. I feel like it might seem less cruel and unusual if I understood the reasoning?. Are they afraid of you skadooing? (Blue’s Clues). 

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Boot

I think it subdues me in a way that isn’t healthy; To internalize the fact that the difference I have made, and the meaning I ascribe in the world through life is pillared in my presence/location: My availability, and desire to take care of my family members. There are even so many ways I fall short in that aspect; But it truly is the biggest difference I have made. Little of it is rooted in my arts, or my accomplishments. It’s not that I want to stop here. It’s not of pride or shame. I feel like I have made such a profound difference in my life here; I’m not sure if anything else I do will ever measure up. When I word it out; It becomes more apparent to me that this doesn’t matter. Holds no baring on possibility.
I was supposed to get together with my producer last night, but he stood me up instead. I was so looking forward to seeing him that I went out and bought a bottle of Rose Regale; My favorite drink. A sparkling red. He gets off work anywhere between midnight and last call; And an hour to get home; So I didn’t really feel the cue to stop waiting up for him until 3.
There is this stupid thing I do whenever I am getting ready to visit either of my producers; I listen and evaluate my song(s) of topic, to determine whether I really want to share this with them yet. No music automatically comes on after this. Sometimes I listen to my song repeatedly. I don’t find this to be effective analysis though, because after hearing it too many times, my imagination glosses over all the flaws, with the bias of knowing my overall intent. So I tell myself not to play it more than once, and in silence I suppress the urge and craving to play it again, imagining their opinion/reaction.
It has been hard for me to determine when to share stuff with them. In drafting and preliminary stages, I am totally open to implementing feedback, trying out suggested changes. The more complete I feel the piece is; I am less open to changing it. So anyways, I ended up sitting on the edge of my seat, holding my breath a little, in complete silence anticipating his call for 3 hours before I even noticed how wound up I was making myself.
My plan to be away from home, was contingent upon this outing. I tried to accomplish the effect of being away, by lurking in the dark, listening to music on my earbuds, not reacting so instantly to every bang and crash she makes.- because the second she sees my face, she asks for a pill. I have to be very careful of how I oblige or deny her with this. Phrasing and intonation is everything. I have to say it like I’m not the one in charge, and my hands are tied somehow. The best. most solid reason is being away from home. Hard to challenge that., I don’t want to blame my friend for the escape part. I could have gone to my grandma or uncle’s down the street. I just didn’t want to deal with my compulsive need to bring too much stuff. I already did all of that getting too much together to see my friend, but almost none of it would be the same stuff I want bring elsewhere.
I was so heartbroken. I’ve been stood up like 7 times in February, It makes me feel very low self esteem. I must not got it like that. This friend has good mojo like a mofo though so right when I started to cry over this, my headache went completely away for hours. I got a few new selfies, which is kind of a big deal to me because I only took like 6 pictures of myself last year, and I don’t want to miss my youthl photo ops. My video diaries are so endearing, and there aren’t enough of them. My only option to get more is to make them now and near. I don’t want the gaps of time to be too obvious.
It was also nice to finally feel upset about something light and trivial for a change. I ended up rushing to see him at noon while he had a speck of time left to spare till 1:30 . I’m pretty sure he kicked me out of his inner circle, told me that he doesn’t have any time in his life for me, and isn’t interested in being my producer anymore. I hope I’m taking this harder than he actually meant. There were a couple of little hints that I am taking it harder than he means it. One was, when I told him how i reached out so many times to Destiny, i must to shut up now, because a surplus of words from me will depreciate the value of each message to her at this point. He told me he didn’t think I should shut up. Also, he had me stay there until the very minute he had to leave. I started to say goodbye a bit prior, and he said stay two more minutes.
He didn’t specifically tell he didn’t want to be my producer. anymore. He said I should finish my songs and not wait or care for his opinions. He could have been telling me that he’s down to produce anything I’m happy with. I wanted to always try his suggestions. He impresses me so much, and I would learn a lot. We have been friends for about 13 years. So, this would extend slightly beyond trivial if he really did just kick me out of his life. Still a lot lighter of an issue to be upset about than all the cancer stuff..
My neighbor died on Friday. I saw the fire engine and ambulance take him away 15 days ago. I’ve known him since I was 5 years old. He was socially distant so it didn’t feel intense like losing a family member, even though I saw him more often than I used to see my uncle who died in December. My neighbor was elderly though, like in his 80’s, so losing him is less tragic, and more expectable than losing my uncle at 64 on the operation table.

Hello?

I just thought that if maybe I could get people habitually contacting me in life, I wouldn’t find myself in the future completely alone. Since my mom got sick, it has been my quest to try and set up my own support system in that way.- Try to get people say hi to me regularly, initiate conversations with me, check up on me, wonder how I'm doing...
It has been almost 5 years and still I have not one friend who will regularly say hi to me, or even return a message. I’m losing hope. Normally I love spending time alone, and I don’t want to depend on people. But in order to have people around, I’ll need to have people.
My mom hasn’t wanted to spend any time with me since my uncle died. I feel more alone now than ever. I don’t think I’m asking too much to want friends to reach out to me. Why do I always have to initiate contact? When 70% of the time, it goes ignored. Why should I bother? Because I want friends? I do; but obviously, none of the ones I have, actually care enough to show me that I’m not alone in life. It makes me understand that they never even think of me- I cease to exist unless I’m in their faces.
What a fucking loser
My plan of action was just to say hi to people every day, and be there for them whenever I can. Give someone's car a jump, or let them crash on my sofa. Maybe it would have been more practical for me to just ask for what I want.

Introduce Me to Now

I have been tracking myself to a whole  new depth. Noticing my own habits. Pronouncing them. I realie this would be the most opportune way to truly opperate life planning. I hope I can still find second day Sarah on the first day when there are less second days to be had.

I’m going to evaluate each day; isolated from what i have done before. Impose no limits, based on my usual habit. I will not do what I always do, because; i always do it. I will do what i want to do; because, I want to do it.

I.e; if i am not having a great day, headache, feeling blue, unproductive. I may do best to take a rest and find a new attitude tomorrow .
Even though i usually stay awake. Though i free my mind at night.

I have had this same headache for a month and a half, and it’s not functional for me to be awake and dazed all night and day anymore. It used to be. It really is what worked for me; but I’ve changed. -And i must cater to the person I am now.

"I can't complain"

Yesterday at the checkout, the two clerks asked how I was; I chirped out good 'ol auto response, then he says, "I can't complain". I looked at him with a smile through the side of my eyes, and said; "I dunno, I think a lot of good humor can be rooted in complaining". It was all the ammo I had at the time. 

Now with further time to ponder on this concept, I am thankful for my mom's complaining. It keeps me in the loop, and more able to accommodate if she lets me know what's wrong. Nonetheless.. He goes on and on about how so many people wish they were me right now, and all this. -And how he feels foolish when finds himself complaining to people who have it worse than him.- His friend, a woman who lost her son to cancer. That is sad. My heart wanted to tell him that I appreciate it when people complain to me, (I have a different name for it; I call it, "confide in me".) when am the one who has it worse;- I get nostalgic for thinking about that type of $#!+. Honestly, I do think I prefer my limbic system to be hot. Not sure why exactly, but it's when the zest can be detected best. Reading through my "tumultuous", 2013. Wanting to throw up a little bit because I can't even write like that now. I couldn't fathom diving into this so deep. I wouldn't come back ever, so instead; My brain fogs itself, as a way of finally not thinking about ... Ruminating on. Come on, let me solve your $#!+, I got this fix- it's all Trix to me, Like for kids.

I was proud of myself for not spilling out my story when the second check clerk guy parroted pretty much what the first one said about complaining, and I also repeated myself. He shook his head at me and said, "Thats not good". How is it not good to use humor as a diffuser? Certainly, he must not percept my meaning. Demeaning. あ well, I'm not the type to complain just for the sake of wallowing.- Unless it's handled with brevity; I like to tunnel it to humor, solutions, maps, understanding. When I realize it won't reach out of the darkness in some areas (like cancer), I try to abandon my cognizance of it.


Suck in Private//! am that

My head inside has become a zoo of pandemonium. It is difficult for me to discern what I am even thinking about. I need to establish some form of order in here before I lose myself. I feel foggy. My memories are distant. My energy is low. I want my stamina back! ugh. I know this isn't just a part of getting older;- This is depression kicking my ass, and I don't want to just take it and feel helpless.  I have been fighting, and I can't measure avails. 

I cut my hair last week. It is still visibly fraying at the ends. Obviously, needing more of a trim. It was so hard for me to even do it though! I'm glad I made a move. It wasn't as bad as the dreading made it out to be. I wonder if I will stop feeling so disgusted by hair in general if I got my own head of it in order. It doesn't behave right when it's full of split ends. It static clings to my face sometimes, inserting itself violatingly into my orifices. It's not cool. The only reason I don't shave it off is because that would bring on a whole different set of issues I'm even less comfortable with. We know this- it's a regression obsession by this point; Enough already, Me. 

Been wondering if I should take a break from music for a minute; Don't know if I'll even be able to stop if I demanded myself to. I feel kind of burned out and discouraged by the feedback.- Suggested changes are so drastic; Every project would need to be completely recomposed from scratch, essentially. As if what I have is absolutely nothing at this point.  What I was expecting of feedback, were suggestions of how to improve/enhance what I already have. I seriously just was not prepared for people to not like anything the way it is.- And by this, I don't mean that I expected them to say it was flawless, by any means. Just that the suggested addendum(s) would allow my project to be edited, instead of eradicated and entirely recreated. — With that I think to myself, if it needs that big of a change, I might as well start fresh on something new. It's less complicated to boot. — That's so hard to swallow whole. I believe in myself, and I want to be able to understand and consider negative input without being obliterated by it.

I have been struggling with when to share my work and ask for feedback. At first I thought I should wait until I felt I couldn't make it any better than I have. Second thought was that I should share it as soon as the draft properly alludes the concept.- Thus, keeping me more open to changes because I plan to rerecord it regardless, from that point. Now I wonder if I should ever share it with anyone at all. Maybe I should just do this for myself and keep it completely secret, because I need a fan, and I am that. Because I'm in dire need of ease, which usually comes to me through diaries. Diaries are private. So should the Dire Ease be. I don't like the rapport that asking for feedback is building with my friends. When i just want a regular friend response, I get completely ripped apart by the judging of something that was not up for that type of discussing. This is starting to look like maybe I should join a peer group for the sole purpose of music feedback, and keep that separate from my friendships. I still want my friends to be open with me- I do. I just want to still feel open too- and I don't.

Clearing Mental Space

Trying to get my creative juices flowing. I know one sure fire way is to just journal. It is so difficult for me to do at times though. My mind is honestly full of some dense heavy shit, that does not get lighter to sift.
My mom just asked me if I would really be willing to change her diapers if and when it got to that; Because one of the people she’s seeing next week, is a surgeon for her hernias. It would actually be a better case scenario for them to elect to do any type of surgery, because the hernias are something that is causing her a lot of suffering. She will be very reluctant herself, which I feel confident about, that she isn’t going to dive into just any blind circumstance. Still; there is a high level of unknowability.
I told her that I would be willing to change her diapers given that she was still mentally present. That’s even hard for me to discern, knowing of a true story where a man was fully mentally present, but stuck inside himself in such a way that he could not let others know he was there, for a full 10 years, and then came back to full function.- Though if I personally were in that situation, I might prefer to be excused. And also, if she were in that situation, she would not be able to let us know if she was in any pain. The pain itself takes her away from conscious presence.
Right now, her pain is more than I would want to accept as, "the new normal". She still wants to fight for her life, but it’s more because of being daunted by the idea of giving up, than of truly wanting to continue. The actual breakdown of events is such that I still believe it’s possible for her to have more better days.

Feelings Stupid

I was just thinking about Crostiare, and it made me realize that the concept of sloppy seconds applies to so many different aspects. I was the sloppy second one in his heart. The one he hired just to warm the empty spot, and i actually believed the whole time he was semi cheating on her by sext; That he loved me back, even though it was like a constant painful realization that he picked her over me.- That the whole year before she existed to him, he didn’t take a chance on me. So then, in the end, he ghosts me, then he attributes missing me to her. I had a great knack for explaining all of this in a way that doesn’t humiliate my feelings butt i bare it all right now

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