I must confess that I am not sure what a skankmonkey is aside from the fact that I was one today. Yes, Miss Kewl, I am a skankmonkey. Can I still run your fan site though? Good, good. I need to run some fan sites. Of course a couple of my fan clubs are only celebrated via aim, but everyone doesn't have to join the same clubs as me. In fact, some people need to make their own clubs before I swat them with a really big fly swatter. You can't force friendship, among other things and I am tired of having people try to do so.

Things seem to be pretty well-resolved though. I even have a cute kitty sitting at my feet to keep them warm right now. For some reason I am watching a football game. I am not sure I can say which one, but someone left the television on in here and I am too lazy to change it while I tippitty tap into my journal for the edification of all.

I went to church today. That is always a high point in my Sunday. I got to sit with Miss Kewl and talk to all sorts of other cool people too. I hang with artists, beautiful mothers, superheros, tall people, beautiful Polynesian princesses, and various other people. Yes, they are all cool. I don't think I have enough server space to give them each a page, let alone free time to design them.

The new year always makes me want to revamp my site. This is probably because my site has not reached a point where I feel it is ideal. Ah, but my next revamping should probably be tied in with the use of zope and perhaps plone, but that requires me to use my brain. I woke up with a headache though and it is still plaguing me off and on, so I am not sure that is gonna happen soon. Well, not much else to report. Go make some snow angels.

Think of me, do not think thoughts harshly
But think of me and smile a little bit
Think of me, but judge me not for acting rashly
But think of me, admire my smile and wit

Think of me, remember that in a single moment
I came so close to faltering and saying more
Think of me, don't start a descent
Into madness like I have known before

Think of me, do not judge me for my foolishness
But instead admire me for some gentle grace
Think of me, know I can not love you any less
Though tears may be pouring down my face

Think of me, before you take a step which may lead
Down a path I followed once to be deceived
Think of me, give the chance for which I plead
And perhaps, we'll find a love that can't be believed

Well, it is groundhog day and according to my sources, we shall have six more weeks of winter. I do so love this weather. It makes me want to join the polar bear club. Today, a river sprang up behind the library, in clear view of my window, so I could watch it washing by. I wish I could find such a torrent to wash me away and wash me right into whatever awaits me.

Right now, I am just feeling weak. What makes me feel this way? Caring too much for far too many and rarely is it me. That is the way of the healer of hearts. Soon, soon it shall be upon us--the Hallmark holiday. Then we shall see who stands alone. I stand alone--by choice? Maybe. Maybe it is just that my clock is broken and I missed the right hour and the right stepping off point. Only time can tell. Will the hands keep spinning? Will my heart beat long enough to be complete?

Not that it really matters as long as I keep my clown shoes nearby. Everybody loves a clown. *dances about in her ridiculously large shoes* Even my cats enjoy a good squirt in the face from the mystic flower. *squirt* You are very sleepy and the whole world fades away for a moment. May you awake to a dawn laden with truth.

Nothing is more liberating than being able to not care. I would love to break these bonds--friendship, passion, love, desire, faith. You know the bonds that bind me to the insane thought that at some point I am going to make the right decision. The circle is almost complete and I must decide whether it will break and begin anew with my heart caught on the gears or choose wisely and stick to that choice no matter how long I may have to wait for the right scenario to finally play out. I wish I could live inside myself, all alone where the clouds are made of cotton candy and I am beautiful because I exist not because someone else may have deemed it so. I do not have that luxury. I must come out. The faded flower must return again to soak up the rays of the sun and sprinkle love like pollen to heal the hearts of all she loves though her own heart still gapes and bleeds from a million half-remembered heartbreaks.

No worries, darlings, none of you has hurt me. I dare say, it is I that have hurt you. That's what I keep hearing at least. I am inconsiderate, cruel, unclear, selfish, greedy, heck throw in your own adjectives. You, after all, are the ones who perceive the way I am without seeing into the very core of me and the raging confusion that lies there. I fear I am slipping again, regressing back to a time when Bella was only a hint of a child, fearless and compassionate, who was slowly dying away as a woman came into life.

Right now that woman has the reins and she is one beautiful cynic, darlings. I love her, I do, so she will be with us for a very long time, but some days it just doesn't seem worth it. Why? "Oh no, is it me?" No, it's not you. It's me. I believe I aspire to too much and think I can make it work, but I get slapped in the face and reminded that it won't work. In order to have some things I want, I have to give up other things. I have to make time and make room and decisions are hard for me to make, so when I do make one, I do not enjoy being thwarted. I must work on that. In the meantime, darlings, walk lightly and keep your patronization to yourself. I am getting an ample dose of that as it is. And now for the horse and pony show that people enjoy so much.

ODE TO THE GROUNDHOG

Oh, precious rodent come from thy hole
Tell us whether winter shall take its toll
And roll away with great alacrity
Or press on until the end of eternity
Leaving us frigid and wrapped in scarves
Until the oceans freeze to the wharves
And the whole world is ice and penguins agree
Nothing is worse than winter, you see

The poet awakens, breaths deeply of her own blood
Tainted with a million loves that waver and flood
Out again, pouring forth reminders of a pain
She once thought washed away in the rain
When she danced completely naked under a dying sun
Knowing that in loneliness she had found the one
Who could take it all away, make her whole
More complete than anything else, and thunder's roll
Or lightning strike could not cause her dance to cease
For only in pain had she found her peace

As a hopeless romantic, I don't like the game, but I am so in a mood to play right now. Just call me Butterfly, darlings, and watch me fly into your arms and out again before the sun sets. Some of you may catch that reference, for that is an old curse of mine, but what a beautiful curse to have is conceit, it seems--gets me every time. I am just tired of being told to wait for something better and when I say I will, I get told that there is no chance. I am also tired of being told to wait while the whole world dives into the pool. I was always the first one to dive into the swollen floods behind my house when the water was still cold enough to chill me to the core. Perhaps, that is how I became so frigid and unattainable.

Apparently, I am too particular. I should accept those random attempts to pick me up. *giggles* Oh what a surprise should they catch the butterfly and realize she is not what they hoped for. After all, unless the right person comes along, I am still going to try to regain my virgin lips status. I only have 4 years and a little under 10 months to go, so why not? People give their kisses too freely these days anyway. I envy those of you wise enough to keep your kisses to yourself. If you give out too many, they eventually lose their meaning.

So what has got me on a tangent? The upcoming Hallmark holiday with it's purple apes proclaiming "kiss me" and balloons proclaiming, "I love you". I would rather hear those words whispered softly for no reason in the middle of an ordinary day than receive all the roses of a royal rose garden on February 14. To me, that day is something a bit different. My grandmother was born on that day, and the thought of her makes me feel very Mormon--5 points if you can tell me why. With all that babbled out in a conglomeration of mirth, I have one last point to make about all of this. If I love you, I promise to love you every day of the year whether it is sisterly love or something more--not because I am obligated to or encouraged to by a card company but because no matter how many times my heart is sacrificed to the cruelty of love, it renews itself to beat again and bleed anew.

Ah, it was quite the long day already. I feel like crawling back under my covers, but I can't do that. I really need to put some love where it will be much-needed, into my masterpiece. At least my words are always grateful for the effort I put into them. People, however, are not always so grateful. People, in fact, just break my heart, but how else could my muse get past the ice, eh? Keep dancing, darlings, for someday my sun will burn out and you will have to be your own light.

My twisted, demented muse, lies broken
Tossed upon the shore of my heart
With no concern for what may live or die
In these words that pour forth
For once with no rhyme
Though finally they have reason again
And I bleed before the sunset
To become again she whom I love or detest
It's all a coin toss of my fate
And in the balance lies so much more
Than even these words can express
For so close to her upon these shores
Are a million other loves I could not forget
Nor forsake though some have hurt me
More than blade or stone and the hands gripped
Tightly about my throat until I choke and fight
Though on days like today I wish there were no love
No love for me, so I could escape with finality
And know I have no soul to weep
When others cry for the loss of me
Yet I know when the sadness overtakes me
That eyes are watching that do more than love
As we mortals do, somewhere a battle is waged
For my soul and if I give up, it will be lost
And with it all the faith, hope and love that I wish
To give to you, my loves, my sisters, my children
For it is my fate to care more for you than myself
So I fight this battle for you, not your acclaim
But that you may find the happiness
That gleams so brightly before my eyes
When my world is its darkest

I almost wish I could record my thoughts like a moving picture. They are so clear, so vivid, so full of the life that is everywhere around me, but so rarely touches me. I wish you could see it. I wish I could understand why I am what I do not desire to become--a poet, a philosopher, an easy target for pains of the heart, loyal to my love though I am pushed away. Why can't I just be cold and empty, devoid of all feeling? I believe that I have always wanted that (I always did admire Vulcans and androids in the Star Trek series). I learned too young what love and loss and devotion entail, yet they are the drugs that keep me bouncing between heaven and hell. Sometimes our greatest blessings do seem like our greatest curses.

I have brought some joy into the world today. I got to see my beloved Teffie and chat with her about harems, hobbits and hotties--normal girl stuff. The greatest disappointment in our conversation being that the hottest hobbit can't join my harem because he is married. *sad face* Oh well, somewhere out there is the guy for me if he'll just give me a chance to prove it. In the meantime, I shall just have to be patient and hope he notices my witty ways and charming smile.

It's training week in Bella-land. I have been acquiring new information about how to be a better library lady (since I can't call myself a librarian because people get snippy). I have seen two different approaches to this and I must say that it goes over better if a) you don't insult my intelligence and b) you actually know what you are talking about. Keep that in mind, dearies. Also keep in mind that the more sugar you put in something, the more I bounce around when I eat it.

Wonderful thoughts just abound today. First, I have a lovely rectangle of happiness in my wallet. What is it? Now that would be telling, wouldn't it? In the interests of being mysterious, I shall not tell you, but if you have questions about shiny, happy people, I know where to find some missionaries. Missionaries are awesome. (Okay, some of them are way too excited for the average person, but such is life.) I also am getting new things to ponder from my newest job duty. For instance, what is the Asian Fuzzy Systems Society and does it involve Asian hobbits? Also, I can now randomly declare, "respect my authority" and dissolve into giggles about a joke I think only I can get. Authority headings do show up as stars when one is tabbing between windows. It's like a dream come true.

May you find the stars shine brighter with me
May you find the love to finally set you free
From all the pain that clouds your mind
May you find, I am the one to remind
That there is more to the world than this
A stolen moment, the impending kiss
That can lead inexorably to heaven or hell
And how my eyes, heart, and words tell
Of a love that can not be cast aside
Though I see you begging me to hide
Away every emotion you inspire in me
I fear you misinterpret the fire in me
For a lesser flame, that burns until dawn
When the light comes and love is gone

I don't understand people with their fickle hearts and selfish ways. I have my moments, but I am more likely to feel remorse for my actions than most people. Perhaps, it is just that I can not live without this pain to fuel me on. I've been aching and bleeding for years and yet fools wish to claim that they cause my pain. I hurt me. It's quite simple. I hurt me by bothering to care about any of you. I hurt me by caring if you're crying, unhappy, disappointed, sad, lost, faltering, and even making choices that, frankly, I know are bad because I have made some doozies in my own time. It seems I either care too much or too little. Perhaps, I am not the healer of hearts after all. Not that any of this really matters. If I wish to, I can fade out. In any moment, I can just fade away, but then I can't stand alone as the only mortal who ever truly loved me enough to try to go beyond the shell. What shell?

So, anyway, I got to have some more training today. Nothing is more exciting than a bunch of librarians with numbers and delimiters and a dry erase board. Especially, if one of them has been having analytics withdrawal for weeks and finally got some exciting books on transportation before she was whisked away to the world of training--perhaps transported is the better word. Then she may react erratically.

She may even go to lunch, bail on class, giggle herself into a frenzy and return with an extra layer of clothing. Very few things are sexier in this world than me in a nice suit. Well, maybe that is not true, but in the interests of pretending to be conceited, I am going to go with that one. What I can't figure out is why I have such trouble finding suit jackets that flatter me. Ah, in the 80s, it would have been so much easier, but as a little girl in the 80s, I don't think my teachers would have responded well to my fixation with dress clothes--a little too Alex P. Keaton, if you know what I mean. In fact, they didn't respond well in the early 90s when I did start wearing them.

Give me a moment to let these tears fall
Give me a moment to hear your call
And rush to you to hold you near
Tell you there is nothing to fear
Mend your heart make it fade away
Be a friend to you in this way
For you deny me the right to be
More to you, to open up and let you see
Secrets I could show unto no other
So I console myself and like a mother
Rock you gently while your tears flow
Hiding away a love you don't wish to know

Ever want to say insane things to people just to see if they are listening? Ever want to run through the building screaming just so that people will finally notice you are there? Ever want to break down and cry for no other reason than the emotions that well up inside you are taking over and making you weak? Ever want to just fade away or be blown away on the breeze? Ever wish you could be anyone, anywhere else? Ever wish you were me?

*dances out of the shadows, veils flying, feet skimming the floor* Like wings fluttering about me, or angels stirring as I rise once more, voices whisper. I know the owners of the voices don't see me. I am trapped inside the plain mortal form with its loose trappings and bowed head. I hide beautiful eyes behind glasses and a winning smile behind the small smirk that is all the strength I have for now. Someday, I shall find the Chopin to my George Sand, but for now, I will just mock the upcoming Hallmark Holiday and prepare to celebrate Friday the 13th.

Now that is a holiday for me. It's like October in February. People will even be giving out candy. Of course, I may end up being the only person who dresses like a freak, but I am like that anyway. It's been another day of new releases. I even got to play with a brand new book instead of dusty old books and microfiche. Bella got an upgrade. You have to love my job, right? Maybe, just I do. Have a good one, kiddies.

Well, I got to play with new books today. That would be all the excitement I have for you. Bleh, I am so tired. I must be running marathons in my mind or something. That's probably it. Maybe I should strap on some roller blades, so I can travel that distance in less time and get it over with. Then I can sit down in a little café and write some eccentric love poetry to no one. I do so love my love poetry. I just need to find the write man to write it too and this far he eludes me, but there is hope. There is always hope, and failing that, there is life as a cat lady of mirth.

Like sharks racing to get to the chum thrown out by researchers, unwilling members of my harem are circling again. It happens from time to time, and it makes me uncomfortable. Once I make a decision and go with, I don't like having other options tossed at my feet. I saw them on the outskirts before, wanting to be explored by me in ways I can't fathom, but they all seem to be pressing in now, hoping that my healing heart is theirs to claim. This is precisely why I hate this time of year. My decisions are questioned and so many would-be-loves think that surely I shall leap into their arms. I don't intend to make any steps in the direction of love until after this cursed Hallmark holiday has passed away. I just want friends for the moment.

I have walked too fast often enough into that mire called love that pulls me in before. With how strongly I love it will eventually destroy me. I am not in a big hurry to put my heart on the butcher's block. In fact, with the way I have felt lately, I am not in a big hurry to do much of anything, besides, of course, driving too fast on the road. I have been venturing into the world of the driving capable again now that the snow has melted and the rain is holding off. I just don't seem to be one with the gas pedal. I must work on that. I really must, so be wary if you see me zipping past.

For those of you who do have an interest in the day of love, perhaps, I should send a little love your way. How on earth could I do that? That is a difficult question, but I have been having a fruity day, so perhaps that shall inspire me.

I don't sit down and try to write the poems that come to me. I don't sit down and say, "I want to fall in love." I don't plan ahead to win my friends. I don't ask words to come pouring from me like rivers that often make no sense. These are the things I do not plan. These are the things that just come over me and take me by storm. I can't help but love, worry, hope, believe. Last night, I was online (as always), talking to some friends. I was trying to make one understand why I believe in God and the other understand why I am often so disappointed in people.

I couldn't make either of them see. What do you think you are seeing when you read these words? It is all a matter of perception, isn't it? You can read it, but not always understand it. You may think you do, but I fear for all of you who read this. I fear that you don't understand and you don't get it. I fear that it just gives you a false sense of security. After all, you read my journal how could you not know me?

You don't know me, certainly not any better than I know any of you. Yet I do know you. I know more than I let on sometimes because there is really nothing I can do to change you. I just have to love you the way you are. I hate poetry, especially my own. I hate my poetry because it reminds me of things that many of you couldn't fathom. One poem, however, expresses exactly that. Of course, on days like today when the card industry has everyone all hyped about proving their affections, I have to review my definition of love. There are so many ways to love and if I love you even the slightest bit, I would appreciate it if you respect that. Don't try to hurt me, push me away, use me, or ignore me. Don't presume the degree of my love and try to force me to prove it. If you want to know how I feel, perhaps you should try a little honesty yourself.

Well today has been rather uneventful. I got lots of love from my cat. He even followed me to the bathroom when I went to dunk myself in bubbles. I also got to have Chinese. Shh, don't tell my cat. *snicker* Okay, nothing more to see here. Move on.

This little girl inside my head
Is quite simply, quite unique
Though she should chase wisdom instead
It is the fools who she does seek
Chasing after comets, burned by their tails
She gets back upon her feet
You see that this never fails
And drawn on by more deceit
She gets burned up by the sun
Then is reborn to where this has begun

Another wonderful weekend in the life of me has come to a close. No big surprises there. I slept, I ate, I went to church. I then woke up this morning and went to work thus ending my weekend. As seems to be the case, my work got interrupted by some connection problems. This usually brings me great sadness and I console myself with microfiche.

The high point of the day was merry Mormon meetings. Put a bunch of Mormons in a room and give them reasons to be grateful and they can have fun for hours. If you mix in cake and unbirthdays and mention of hobbits and it is an almost perfect evening. So my evening was pretty good. Random quote for the day from me: "I'll worship the ground you walk on--with some gasoline and a lighter." I'm tired of morons mistaking my friendship/affection/respect for worship. Not going into that one, but it does irritate me.

We are only scraping the surface, you and I
We think we know so much yet we deny
That there is more than we reveal
So much more that is more real
Buried inside, too deep to unearth
In these idle conversations, with mirth
And laughter, fear of seeing too many tears
Or finding that the passing of the years
Have left too many wounds that still bleed
And ache and that all we really need
Is to open up, let someone else in
And reclaim in trust our innocence again

I guess after a while we get used to things. Two very important people in my life may be headed into surgery before two long and I worry more about one than the other. Maybe, I am crazy but in one case, I feel a deep sense of dread and in the other I am very calm and assured that all will be well. Of course, the one I worry more for shouldn't be as important, well, that is what I am led to believe. It's a complicated story and it really isn't mine to tell, so you'll just have to wonder. Then as always, the issue of my friends' happiness nags at my mind. Its too hard to decide about certain things when I worry so much about who I might hurt. Life would truly be easier as a hermit.

Hermits also don't have to deal with being put down or accused of things because other people aren't happy with themselves. You know what, for a change, I adore me. I am pretty much on track with my life at this moment. I have areas where I need improvement, and I certainly don't need them pointed out. I pulled my head out of my butt and can now see my flaws and begin to correct. I wish some other people would find the same ability. Otherwise, I may slap them. I AM a bit unorthodox, but I am not evil, I am not stupid, and I am not doing anything that will rip my soul to shreds. If you would like to believe I am though, could you tell me straight out, so I can remember to bide my tongue in your presence since you obviously don't listen?

I'm not sure the people who need that lecture read this journal, but I could get lucky and they'll drop in and read that and go, "oh" or "yeah" and really get it for a change. Anyway, I need to stop ranting, so on to other topics.

I love my friends, not those people who claim to be my friends or the ones who have my friendship and offer nothing in return, my friends. I have seen quite a bit of love from my friends lately. Some of them have offered to give me moral support while I rough up people who are making me feel like garbage. Others have tried to cheer me up when I was, quite frankly, being a witch. Still others have offered to interrogate the pathological liars in my life in order to find that great gift of truth. It's very sweet and I do appreciate it. I guess that sometimes I just don't appreciate what I have. Then again, who doesn't have those moments?

It's another one of those days of quiet reflection when I wonder if even I know who I am. So many odd tales lie at the center of my life. So many could have/would have/should haves are piled up that I begin to wonder who I am. Ignore the fact that I have about 20 names that I answer to for a moment and just think about me. How many faces of me have you seen? I love strongly. I laugh easily. Sometimes I even cry. I can toss an insult as easily as a compliment. Sometimes I am the epitome of compassion and at others I am cruelty defined. We are all like this, I know. Yet who I am, it seems, is based more on how people perceive me rather than how I actually am, and I see more clearly each day that no one really sees me.

I spent another lovely day at work. I slapped barcodes on any microfiche that stood still long enough, and then played with some of the random papers on my desk. Of course, the high point of my day was a discussion about blowing up gophers and/or chasing them around with frying pans. You'd have to be there to appreciate how such a story could bring two people together. *shrug* I'm vulnerable in the friend department these days. I let my heart thaw out a little and I think the love demon is doing a little dance. I should state that by love, I am referring to the love one has for friends.

I wish I could fall in love at the drop of a hat, but as I have so poorly explained, I don't work like that. My heart can't bounce from love to love to love with the ease that I see in those around me. Just because my heart has been ripped open doesn't mean that someone else can step right in. I just don't understand that, so pardon me if I am skeptical of insta-love. Pardon me, also, if I am not everything you want me to be. I can only be so much to so many people before my own existence blows me to shreds.

Don't worry for me, that I may be dying
Don't worry for me or these tears I am crying
Don't worry for me as I worry for you
Don't worry, my darling, for you never knew
Don't worry, I'll be near whenever you call
Don't worry, it's too late, I've begun to fall
Don't worry for grace shall be mine to obtain
Don't worry, from one form of death I do abstain
Don't worry if you realized you don't understand
Don't worry, I'm here, I'll take my hand

It was another average day in my world. I got up, tripped over the cats and made my way to work. Work started out with the average molestation of microfiche with barcodes. Then we got more new books. Aside from being informed that I am insane, that is about the extent of my day. Sad when people don't understand you and therefore make such assumptions. Of course, this just helps me get one step closer to being called a crazy, cat lady. I guess I just have to get someone to tell me I am a lady. I have the cats and the proclamations of my insanity.

The day started out pretty slow with some books and piles of paper. I worked industriously to make some of that paper disappear from my desk before lunch. I was not overly successful, but that is to be expected when books start dancing before you. I had a healthy lunch with the shiny people. Lunch was good except for the moment when I began laughing hysterically and almost choked on some jealous. You would have needed to be in my head to understand what was so funny.

Then it was back to work and right into training. We got to do some group work that equated to exactly what I had been doing all morning. Needless to say, my group finished up rather quickly. This led to bouts of boredom. Luckily, I needed to water myself like the blooming flower that I am. The afternoon drew to a close and I headed home to feed the cats and await the evenings festivities.

I started out the evening with an intriguing dinner with two brothers. The rest of the party people didn't show up, so I got to pretend I had two dates and even tried to rope them into some Wizard of Oz moments. They didn't start skipping when I started singing, "We're off to see the wizard." It could be because we were all loaded down with healthy food from Pizza Hut.

Then it was off to decorate for the big dance. I proved myself to be the queen of hearts by slapping tons of paper hearts in blue, pink, red, purple, and white all over the walls. I wrote a message of deep love on the dry erase board, watched some of the other powerful women lug furniture, and geared up for the joy of dancing.

The dance started and the three guys didn't take advantage of the fact that there were about eight single girls. You have to pity people who let such wonderful chances pass them by. We had some fun trying to figure out how to dance to some of the music. Dave took it upon himself to create new dances as we went along to keep us going. His triumph of the evening was his 45 second dance of death to the Ren and Stimpy theme song.

When the dancing died down (in other words, the the three people who occasionally hit the floor, finally deserted it), we played a few games. We played a rousing game of musical chairs. The first game was won by my infamous co-hobbit, Mike, and the second by his sweetheart, so they kept the trophies in the relationship. Then we played a game of duck, duck, goose that was great practice for softball complete with slides to home. Then we played a game where one person weeble-wobbled about while the rest of us tried to keep them from falling down. Then we wound up for the evening and I came home to update the world on the fun of a dance or a sit (to those who were sitting on the chairs waiting for inspiration from the muse of dance).

As usual, not much is going on in the wild world of shorts. We're short, we're cute, but we are not plagued by too much excitement. I have been doing my usual acrobatics at work. You know all the complicated maneuvers it takes to get books to your desk. Perhaps, I shall have more and better commentary tomorrow. Keep smiling.

Maybe they are right. Maybe I am crazy. Perhaps, I really think I am Bloody Mary and not a normal woman typing away the hours into an online journal. After all, I may not even remember those wild antics with a meat cleaver. Everyone seems to think they know me better than I know myself. They overlook me, refuse to accept the fact that I am smart enough to do a variety of things, and basically miss out on my other various talents. I just lack confidence and ask questions to clarify things that were poorly explained or never explained at all. I tire of being treated like I have no idea what is going on around me. I am more aware than many would think. I just choose to keep such knowledge to myself

The Toreador in me can create her own drama without the help of fools. I tire of being asked questions, interrupted before I can answer, and then being told how stupid and unhelpful I am. I tire of people trying to allocate my time without asking me what I want. I tire of being told what I should do. I assure those of you who wish to pass judgment on me and my spirituality that I have been wise enough to step away from the things that were leading me down the thorny path to eternal unhappiness. Perhaps, some of you should look into whether or not you feel so assured before you condemn me for being abnormal.

I grow weary of constantly defending myself to fools who repeat my words as their own. I grow weary of being told that I don't know things because I am too young. You wouldn't believe how fast I have aged. I have a picture from five years ago in which I look ten years older than I am now. Another moment of weariness must have overtaken me, and I draw near that brink again from bothering to care too much. I grow weary of being told that my choices are wrong.

I am sorry if I choose to live life as me. I am sorry that I choose to live simply, doing things I love rather than chasing the accursed dollar. I do not desire that sort of wealth. I don't care to own expensive cars and fill my life with finery and jewelry that I would never wear. I prefer the simple copper butterfly that most often adorns my neck and the smiles and happiness of the people who can truly appreciate me and all the things I am capable of doing. If that bothers you, then go make your own life and quit trying to tell me how to live mine.

I'm in need of clarification
That you have seen her dedication
Have felt her love pass over you
Have accepted the past, it's true
That she has loved you well
But frozen her heart because she fell
Once more into the ways of pain
That in the end drive her insane
But you don't know, can't understand
Why no one else will take your hand
And hold you close in innocence
Leap so swiftly to your defense
When demons tear your soul to shreds
And you must face what it dreads
And come face to face with darkest fear
Seeing at last, what she saw so clear

A lot of people seem to be in need of clarification. Mainly because they only half-listen or half-read or assume things that were never said without asking for clarification. Walk lightly or walk away because I will not be pushed where I do not wish to go. I will not be treated like a fool or a minion because I have not lived a thousand years. I may not have Yoda's 900 years, darlings, but I am wise beyond my years. I can almost see beyond the veils of death sometimes because I have lived too much too fast. I do not share in the joy of proclaiming all my horrors so the world will accept me. I obviously don't spend enough time tooting my own horn. I am, however, more than worthy of respect, so if you don't respect me, turn away, walk away and quit wasting our time.

It's been a long week, a long month, a long life even. I'm feeling a bit rundown, so if my sun doesn't shine down on you, you'll just have to cope. I will find some relaxation and snuggle up to it eventually. If not, I will crash and crash hard and you won't hear from me for a while. Either way, no great loss. I think about three people read this journal, and I am sure you have the strength to go on without me for a while. In fact, you'll probably like it so much that you'll forget about me and this unappetizing little fountain of words and go on without a glance back. Unfortunately, I don't have that option. I have to spend all of eternity with me, which probably explains why I can see some of my finer qualities without having to reap some benefit from it.

I spent the evening at the fantabulous chili cook-off. Tons of people showed up to try the chili varieties. I got to be a judge. Justin's chicken chili won second place and Ronnie's super-beefy chili won first place. We also had some cornbread and a strawberry cake. Tons of beautiful ladies were wandering around, mingling with some handsome men. I also think I got roped into being in a play. Well, I am sure I will hear more about that later, but now I must find sleep.