My my, July, July.

I might have to move my bed to a different position in my room. As it is now, cornered against the south-western walls, I can only wake up on one side of the bed. I think it's the wrong side.

So here is where the bitching and tilted head rambling of my ebbs and flows are poured out for your visual delight... it's a day where I can't pull myself far enough out of my own subjective experience to create a solid story line, so you'll have to deal with my mindless journaling, if you don't mind.

My my, July, July...

*crashed and burned with a douche-bag (#15,632?) all for the very best of course, but skid marks do take some time to heal.

*lost funding for my job. Although I'm young and trying to catch up with the rest of the world, I found being treated like a runt - fed from my agency's unreliable money trough until they could figure out what to do with my skills and assets - a little inhumane.

*3 weeks of back spasms.

*voyage to the motherland: a lot of reading, sun bathing, fishing, tv, drinking and eating, and conversing with my mother like 2 flint stones rubbing together.

*hired! Call me Teen Programs Coordinator. I'm a big shot. goodbye commuting, hello huge responsibility.

*backpacking Sierra National Forest, Lake Lillian Trail for 8 days. Holy.

*speeding ticket in Modesto.

*reading Women Who Run With The Wolves. Best book ever.

*fainted hard-core during acupuncture today. The practictioner thought I was having a seizure, so that's cool.

*caught by the MUNI police for having an expired transfer today.

*locked out of my apt today. I knew I was forgetting something.


Elliot Smith is telling me the worst part's almost over now. But that's what the MUNI cop lady told me too right before she handed me a $50 piece of paper. It seems the world can't decide if I should live happily ever after or rot within my sagging skin and bones. I wish it'd make up it's mind soon.

And I wish I could stop collecting my experiences in life by adding them to a list labeled "why my life is shit," but that is easier said than done. Perhaps it's time to overcompensate, get heavy into spiritual guidebooks and rediscover where I am in my Life/Death/Life cycles. I can lean a little harder on the advice my own students give me about growing up and moving on. I can cry, but cry passionately, which is the only real way to live.

...dadme la muerte que me falta...

...shatter my heart so a new room can be created for a Limitless Love...

.so I'll sing and shout and pray and hope. My, my, July, July. Bring me an August to get lost in.