STARLIPER
(pronounced STAR-LIP (as in clef)-UR)
11:23pm, 4/24/2014
I’m writing because I’m afraid to sleep. I’m afraid I’ll see Mel again, soaked in her red sweatshirt, a digital camera slung around her neck. I see her looking up at me, her eyes sobbing of naivete, confusion...she had tried to cross the torrent and must have brought her camera with her to take pictures of the wonder with which nature had presented her. In my dream, the fact that we were separated opened my heart. The fact that I couldn’t take off my seatbelt to save her drove a stake through it when I woke up. The feeling of guilt and humility and compassion kept me awake until somehow I drifted off again.
What now?
Mel and I were not made for each other. As hard as it is for me to say that, I have to believe it and I have to accept it. For I cannot save her now, I could not save her then, and as long as I know that and feel something for it, even resentment, I am reminded of my own humanity. I have more compassion for Mel than I’ve ever felt for any other person. She taught me the value of living in the light, and it’s one of the greatest gifts that I’ll be able to give Olivia.
I don’t know how much sense that all made, but it made sense to me at the time. Getting it out was like therapy. Here, as I begin to choke up and refuse to let my emotions get the best of me, I am reminded that everything that is happening in my life is more than just a dream. Everything got really fucked up somewhere along the way, and here I am.
It’s been a long time since I journaled by hand. I still regret throwing the other notebooks away, but it’ feels good to start with a fresh one.Why do I get the sense that this one will be more honest?
I might as well lay it all out on the table now. I’m Pagan. I’m bisexual. I have a second personality and I eat too much, but who doesn’t?/
4/28/2014 (I think) 9:00pm
I have no idea what’s coming next, but who does? All I know it that I am not the only one. I know that now because I can feel physical pain. Sometimes you just need a reminder, you know? I finished my staff, a shaved walking stick with a deer skull at the top. I still need to acquire an atheme and a pentacle. I’ll save up some money. I guess that’s one incentive for getting a job. The other is that since Mel is getting a job, I need to make it clear that I am making money as well (I was involved in court proceedings at the time). Oddly, the former seems more important. I am Pagan at heart. Such an empowering faith! I remember how it made me feel before I had even officially chosen the Path. Now it makes me feel even better and I’m not even all the way into it yet.
I gave thanks to the Gods the other day, and pressed my staff to the ground where the remains of the deer lay and thanked it, but there seems to be a veil through which I’m peering desperately.
Goddess, can you hear me?
Of course you can, so what am I avoiding? Perfect faith? What am I waiting for? Please help me back onto the Path. The Path. Not the only way...the way most familiar to me, from all of my lives...for the good of all, the harm of none, it’s equivalent or better, so mote it be! Thank you, Mother/
4/20/2014, 6:53pm,
I got back on a stimulant today, Concerta. My psychiatrist, of whom I am quite fond, also doubled my dose of anti-anxiety/anti-depressant medication. I only had three hours of sleep last night (I drank coffee, wrote four articles and stayed up until 2:30 watching Kids Who Kill), so today probably wasn’t the best day to acclimate to a stimulant, but I haven’t been on one for months. I thought it would help.I was notably more clear-headed, more productive and more motivated. I can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow after I’ve had a full night’s sleep.
I was more emotionally sensitive today than I have been lately. I saw Jamie again. That was one hell of a trip down memory lane, and decided to take what I learned in therapy out into the real world from now on. It’s great to dump your deepest secrets onto a total stranger 50 minutes at a time, but it won’t do shit unless I do something with the opportunity. It is an opportunity I was not afforded or of which I was simply unaware, but I am grateful to have it now. I told him about Jessie today. He believes that Jessie does more harm than good.
I don’t disagree.
I had fun dissecting Jessie at the end of our session today. I have determined that she could be my positive self conscious. We also decided that she could be my fullest potential., the side of myself that I’ve locked away from the rest of the world, lest they destroy her too; but how am I supposed to become her if I never challenge myself, never stop clinging to those priceless insecurities so certain and fulfilling? How do I rewire myself to rely upon my own virtues for the realization of my potential, rather than the intoxicating lull of more food, more nicotine, more stimulants, more fairy tales and pretending I’m someone named Jessie?
The answer lies in the one place I haven’t looked, in the only place I was ever really afraid to go. I will become how I choose to view the world. I need to change/7:54pm- Just put Olivia down. I can read her now. My dad kept insisting that it was too early to put her to bed. She cried for less than thirty seconds. That was about 10 minutes ago. I have told a number of people I thought I knew everything about the universe until I became a father. Talk about killing the Buddha. I mean it. I have no memory of what it was like not being a father,like life didn't make sense until that piece of the puzzle fell into place. It was like I was born again. The complexity of emotions that I now feel on a regular basis (the complexity, not the range) is both confusing and exciting. Whether I like it or not, I am becoming a new man, or maybe just a more complete man than I was before. If the vastness of what I've come to experience encompasses but two months of growth, of layer upon layer, line upon line of the bittersweet discovery of self, I can't wait to live the rest of my life. I'd love to take you with me, whoever you are. You may not see my reflection when you wake up and look into the mirror every morning, but hopefully I can give you something to look forward to as you continue to learn about yourself.
I used to have this fantasy, this ideal, that someday, someone would find a huge room, maybe even a storage locker, filled end to end, floor to ceiling with handwritten journals of mine. I've since allowed that ideal to float from my mind. Now, my dream is to fill these pages, however few or many they may come to be, with the most complete chronicle of my mental, spiritual and instinctual growth as can possibly be recorded. To be sure, I will favor certain details of my experiences over others. It's impossible to record every detail, but I can say with complete certainty that every word will have been scribed of a desperate need to find myself, and to guide my daughter, Olivia, this soul with whose growth and nurturing I've been entrusted, through a darkening world, and a rapidly widening array of life altering choices. / 8:34pm- Strong words chosen wisely. They strike at the heart of what these entries are all about. Nonetheless, we learn in the Book of Mormon that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass. The reality is I enjoy writing because every word is another step closer to the next answer. Not every entry in this journal will be of such importance and embellishment as the last. In fact, I suspect that entries of such caliber will be precious few. The world has become so fucking complicated that writing about the Bruins will undoubtedly be more pleasurable than wasting time and ink on philosophical exploration./
May 1st, 2014, 5:22am
Dawn is breaking under cover of thick clouds and heavy rain. I look forward to what the day has to bring for the first time in a long while. There have been mornings here and there where I've had the motivation I do now, but it's been years since I felt this empowered. They say that early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. Could this be because he has an hour and a half to reflect on the rest of his day before anyone else gets up? Mental preparedness is the key to success. I guess that's why I’m so excited to be awake right now. Time alone, time to enjoy my own company for the first time in years. I used to do it alot when I worked at the hotel. Third shift, folding laundry with classical music lulling me into autopilot, I would duck into the break room and write. Phone calls were infrequent, and I had the better part of four hours a night to chew over life's greatest mysteries. Deep into pagan ritual, meditation and the arts, I became who I thought I wanted to be. I have not been truly happy since I left that job.
Single now, I am reminded that I am the captain of my own soul, that there is victory to be had over the darkness with which I have filled my heart. I have no idea who I am. All I know is that I can be someone else, someone better. Every morning affords us a new, clean slate. Who are we to shun such a blessing by opting for another hour of sleep?/ 5:51am- The best advice I have this morning would be don't place as high an emphasis on the time as on how bright it is outside. The God's didn't make the clock. They made the sun. Our biological clocks are flawless, albeit fragile. Rise at dawn. Retire at dusk. This is the way it's been done for thousands of years. So like us humans to focus on our own achievements over what the God and Goddess have provided us with day in and day out. It's hard to justify feeling fatigued when the sun works tirelessly to wake up the rest of the world.
Journal Interlude to Balance the Books. After this brief interlude of typewritten work, everything will resume italicized text, and I'll continue to type new work into this document as I write by hand, all pages numbered to achieve cohesion and chronological accuracy.
“November 3rd, 2017
‘make a list the night before
1 large and 2-4 small things
Separate list for what I want to do with Olivia
Eat the frog
half hour prior to pick up turn Focus to Olivia pick a task
Lubricate shifts between work mode and dad mode
Observe Olivia!
Journal about what I did with Olivia after observation/
Above are some notes I took during one of my last sessions with Jotham regarding some things that I can do to help me better connect with Olivia. What better way to start this journal--begun three nights after Samhain, November 3rd, 2017, when I picked up the slack wearing the costume that my daughter decided against, a huge dragon head that forced me to use my peripheral vision to see where I was going--than with a paragraph ending in a forward slash? For a long time, I was obsessed with filling in every single line of a notebook, amassing vast quantities of handwritten material that people would uncover in a storage locker somewhere and publish in accordance with my will. Every entry ended with a forward slash and I would just pick up writing on the same line where I left off.
I have, unfortunately, disposed of those materials. Bitter circumstances--which I would not change for the world--have found me a single father with a beautiful five-year-old girl named Olivia, and for all the forward momentum I seem to have generated in my life with respect to reading, writing, and maintaining a spiritual blog, I have fallen into possession of a laptop for which I paid $99. It runs a little slow but it is well-suited for the tasks for which I need it. It’s nice to be able to explore my craft in the comfort and privacy of my own room. This somehow completes my life in a way that I wasn’t quite ready to experience. I haven’t been this happy or emotionally organized since I was a teenager. I am now 33, living in the house my mother, Colette, raised us in while my father, Keith, a high end computer salesman, kept a plentiful supply of money coming in for as long as I can remember.
Given this newfound freedom, I don’t see why journaling every night should be out of the question, even a few words, a few memories, things I can jot down, thoughts I had that day. I think it’s very important to have regular access to the most memorable things in our recent past, and I think it will be nice to have a legacy. In these entries I shall try to be as honest and forthright as I can possibly be without bringing anyone else’s vulnerability into the equation. In the end, this is not about my child as much as I would like to say it is. Maybe in the end it will be. As of right now, it’s about me. Let’s see what regular journaling does for my energies and we can take it from there. Hopefully I can develop a strong relationship between the writer in me and he who perceives the writing for what it really is...a way to sort the shit out./
11/4/2017
I did decent today in terms of my spending at work but I could have done a lot better if I had planned ahead. I have caffeine pills that I can use instead of spending all that money on 5 Hour Energy shots. I had raw squid for dinner and discovered that it doesn’t have a taste and that the tentacles are very easy to choke on, so no more squid tentacles. I’m considering bringing dehydrated beef with me to work on the nights when I need dinner. I can’t think of anything else at the moment that doesn’t have carbohydrates in it and that I don’t need to refrigerate but that doesn’t mean I won’t come up with something before my next shift.
I think the alternative might be bringing a portable cooler with me so I can bring chicken and fish from home with vegetables from the night before, or raw veggies. I could also make my own meals. That would require prep work, which I could do after Olivia is in bed but I may be tired by then. I could do it when she’s at Claudia’s or during the day when she’s at school. There are only two shifts that I need to worry about so I don’t need to go crazy.
I finally figured out how to tie a tie so all I need is practice. God willing I’ll never need to relearn it. That was a bitch. I can tie a half-windsor knot and that is all I need to know, so I will not waste energy learning how to tie additional knots. I will, however, use energy to learn Luganda, the official language of the Bantu tribe in South Africa. Becka is from Uganda and I want to be able to communicate with her in her native young. I would like to be able to communicate with her every second of everyday, but we both have lives. She has agreed to a second date. Our first one was incredibly relaxed, much to my surprise and relief. She’s about to get her butt whooped at mini-golf!/
11/22/2017
Becka is no longer in the picture, which is fine by me. I know it’s been a long time since I journaled. I simply could not find the motivation to do so since nobody else would be reading it. I have so much to talk about. God, where to begin?
I will start by saying that since I wrote that I’ll never get high again, I’ve stayed true to myself. I have 18 days off dextromethorphan, 189 days off of nicotine therapy and 229 days off of alcohol. I have gained an enormous amount of spiritual velocity in my life in the interim. I just sold a stock I didn’t even know I had for over $750, I asked for more hours at work so that I can improve my financial position, and I have figured out how to interact with Olivia.
If I am calm, cool and collected, I can control the intensity of the situation with much more success than I can if I am angry, and being a parent is all about channeling the energy that your child has so that it promotes growth and learning. The lack of silence and sensory overload are all part of the package and no matter what you do, you will never be able to completely eradicate them from your life, so embrace the chaos or suffer. There is no in between.
12/3/2017
I have 30 days off dextromethorphan today (a little trip-up with the dosing from when I had my cold), and yesterday I hit 8 months without alcohol. I don’t have time to record much more than that but I will eventually. Just wanted to let people know that I’m still dedicated to this journal because it will add joy to my life. I need to keep reminding myself of that as things in my life continue to fall into place to afford me a sense of love and joy that I only felt as a kid/
12/5/2017
38,000 feet above the world and I have a full bladder on a rocky flight to Orlando. This is the first time I have ever typewritten at this altitude. I'm sure I've scribbled notes I don't remember, farts and 'shits and fucks'--that is a reference from one of my college professors in reference to a short story I wrote--that I just needed to get out.
Being a writer is like that. Sometimes you just don't have the luxury of sitting back and staring at the clouds. Sometimes you need to work your head muscles or you go a little loony. I wonder if that's one of the reasons I started writing well before I knew what it meant to have excessive amounts of mental energy. I told someone last night that my head was like a radio that never turned off. I actually take caffeine at night to help me process the day.
Today has been extremely long for me. Long in a good way but long nonetheless. Gabapentin screws with my sense of time. Right now it's 4:12pm and it feels like 7:30. I am on my way to Florida to celebrate Christmas early. I was very excited earlier today. I am excited now but the excitement has quieted to an appreciation of the fact that I'm not at home doing the same thing I've been doing for the last 33 years of my life...nothing.
A week long respite from the low drone of financial worry and the fear of diabetes looming right around the corner might be just what I need to completely eliminate both of those worries from my life. I've known for a long time that intention creates reality. That could be one of the reasons I keep exposing myself to the elements without catching any fish. I did see one yesterday though! So I know they're down there somewhere.
Down there somewhere, like the rest of the world. That seems like an interesting concept for a story. When I was working on Catch, I tried to incorporate tricks of light into it as a theme, the concept of not being able to see beneath the surface of the water against the sun beating down upon it, the difference between what is real and what is imagined. Fantasy always stretches the limits of reality because we fantasize in the completely ideal, dismissing senses that we would rather not use.
Since I can't see people below me I am imagining what they are doing, almost like they are my people in my own little world and I can move them around as I will. What would I do if I had an entire world to worry about instead of just me? I can see bridges falling for seemingly no reason, people running and screaming as waves roll through the city, the national security infrastructure collapsing, dildos rolling off an assembly line and growing legs and taking over the world, all because I'm thinking about it.
Try not to think of a polar bear with blue eyes.
I mean if I had all the power in the world, wouldn't it make sense that my thoughts alone would be able to create reality? They can create reality now but not with the laser precision that many of us wish they could. I would be scared to death of what my thoughts could bring into this world. Thank God creating reality is not an exact science.
I'm just rambling of course, throwing ideas out there. Looking back over this stream of consciousness I'm sure I'll find something to write about. God it’s so beautiful up here now. No rain. Some clouds and a bright sun. The flight attendants have needed to take their seats a couple of times during turbulence. Now there's no turbulence and we are just cruising, and my bladder feels alot better. Looking out the window to my right I can see another jet leaving gray contrails. Here, probably somewhere over the Carolinas, we have another one hour and thirteen minutes before we land in Orlando. I consider my vacation having officially begun when we left the house for the airport whenever that was/
12/12/2017
Here on this very late--delayed by a half hour at that--return flight as my daughter curls up with my mom, I find the need to write paramount to all else. It's 10:50 pm and if we are not finished climbing, we will be very shortly. It's a clear night, I can see the lights below, and my ears are popping. People say that things seem so small from this height. I think they seem enormous. I felt so small standing at the florida coast line looking out into the atlantic with a completely unobstructed view. I swear I could see for fifty miles in either direction. I can see for so much farther up here. People say that we live on a tiny planet. The earth is immense. Few things other than flying can bring about such appreciation.
My daughter now has the window seat, which is fine with me. She likes it, she's happy, and within a few minutes, I suspect she will be asleep. And I will be alone with my thoughts in this aircraft, relaxed, calm, completely balanced and completely in awe. I was so wrong about the way things worked from ground level. I have seen so much in this last week that changed my perspective that to write about it here would be almost impossible. Good thing this flight is so long.
I went fishing so many times. I went out on the boat with the rest of the family and for the first time in my life I caught a mahi mahi, something I have been wanting to do for a very long time. They're such beautiful fish. We saw one jumping about a hundred yards out. Someone I'm sure got a great picture of my catch. I caught two and forewent the opportunity to get a picture of the second one. It was just too busy on the boat and we had three aboard that we still hadn't thrown in the cooler. Olivia "caught" one. We brought it all back to the marina and cleaned it as the Pelicans looked on waiting for scraps. We brought it to the Tiki Bar and they cooked it for us in two different ways. I had a friend mahi mahi sandwich that I didn't think was all that great. It was boring. It was just fish. I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that.
I ditched my crucifix because I bought quartz that I wanted to apply to my chain. It was a process but I eventually fixed the whole works so that I now wear the quartz on a separate chain. I now wear my pentacle on the chain the crucifix came on. I think the crucifix may still be in the pocket of my denim jacket. Maybe I'll give it to Kiana.
I can't justify belief in heaven because it doesn’t make sense that we would be rewarded for a good life with the eternal suspension of spiritual growth. I would, however, love to believe that I am loved eternally and unconditionally. As of right now I can't feel that with the goddess. My goal is to feel as much. Can I love the goddess and still embrace my dark side? All is known before the Goddess. Nothing is transparent. I shall make it my intention to feel the eternal love that Kiana feels from her God from my Goddess, a healthy mix of Paganism, christianity, realism. I wrote once that no matter what I thought I knew, I would never stop compiling evidence to the contrary.
I hope I'm right about being loved. I really hope I am.
Kiana is someone I met from the program. She is a Jesus freak who asked that God bless my blog and enter my heart, explaining that the void in my soul I've sought to fill for years is actually there so that God could fill it. I don't buy that. The Bible makes things way too easy, asks way too much and doesn't seem to answer the questions I have for the universe. from what i understand, the Bible speaks nothing of Emotional Freedom Technique tapping or...gotta close my laptop so Olivia can sleep. I'll pull it out again when she rests./ Olivia's head has found the pillow, which leaves me here with my laptop again. My mom and daughter sleep on either side of me. We reached cruising altitude awhile ago and what remains is the long and boring part of the flight, which also seems to go by so freaking fast for some reason.
If we are on schedule, we will land at Manchester Airport around 1:30am. Another ninety minutes. In the mad rush to get to the airport and through security, my attention span decreased by a factor of about a million. As we fly over a major city, probably somewhere in North Carolina, I recall the sense of being completely scattered brained and probably stinking in a hot sweatshirt and sweatpants, getting held up in security because I had my cell phone in my pocket while I walked through the metal detector. Now, if I'm lucky and have the physical audacity to do so, I can stare at one spot for the remainder of the flight, or I can just write, completely undisturbed.
If I could wear a do not disturb sign I probably would. 'Serious work in progress, please do not disturb.' If I could wear that sign at all hours of the day I think I might. I am not a people person as much as I crave company. My default response when I can't read a situation is to wait for orders, not to take the initiative. I'm thinking I should make an attempt to change that. I don't play stupid at work. I wait for instructions and I am honest with my peers and superiors about what my needs are, but I'm wondering if I could start taking some initiative around the house or in my interaction with Olivia when I'm not working. The worst thing that could happen is I receive some kind of gentle nudge in another direction if I veer off course.
12/27/2017
Olivia likely has the flu. We will be heading to the e doctor's afternoon. I sit here in the living room while Olivia watches Tickety-Toc between gut-wrenching heaves into a large blue bowl. The only reason I’m using my laptop is because I think my dad is getting frustrated that I’m on the general-use computer too much. I figure, kill the beast while it sleeps. I like using my laptop, anyway. Not only is it fun, but it feels right. It feels like mine. I invested in a very volatile company in the hopes of winning big. I got in right after a crash so I feel like I’ll turn a fine profit. Let’s see if ’an handle the pressure this time. I think I can, but suspect that my dad cannot, so I will not tell him.
I wrote last night that I need to learn the benefit of sitting and listening rather than speaking my mind. I also remember writing at one point that revealing my intentions to others lowers the frequencies along which I can cast my intentions. For all intents and purposes, I consider myself a scientist without all the technical terminology, so letsee what happens to my stock if I eliminate the variable of making others privy to my stake in it.”
3/2/2018
Please find above my most recent run-in with obsession, a few pages of journaling to break in my new laptop. I recently embarked upon a mission to write several hundred thousand pages of handwritten material to grab the attention of an agent post mortem. Since I’ve elected to self-publish when I kick off, I don’t need to grab the attention of an agent, anymore.
3/3/2018
Due to the enormity of work I expect to have amassed within the time allotted, I have decided that publishing everything as a single unit would be absurd. So I want it published by the year, maybe every five years. I don’t know how much I’m going to write and I’m not going to speculate either. All I have with which to work is the present moment, which shines upon me today in splendor. What an amazing day it was!
For the last two years I have been bottom fishing, trying to catch decent sized catfish and my first carp. Up until recently I had tried every method except for everyone else’s. Oatmeal. I didn’t want to use it. Surely it would be too messy. The other day I set out to try oatmeal at long last. Didn’t I try to mix everything at once so I glued up my hands within the first five minutes? I learned a very valuable lesson that day, and that was to bring both a towel and a container in which to rinse my hands when I’m done mixing the oatmeal.
Today, after trying both corn and white bread with WD-40, both of which are also said to work, I ran into someone who said that oatmeal was the only thing he’d ever caught carp on. It took a lot for me to get the rest of the oatmeal out of my trunk. I brought it down to the boat dock, where using just his hands and the Concord River, he molded a sample for me. This whole time! And no, it didn’t catch me anything. I pulled my hook up and it was gone. The first two oatmeal balls that I made doing what he did were also gone when I pulled them up on my second and third casts, but number four stayed...for about 30 minutes, which, from what I hear, is more than enough time to catch a carp if you’re on them. I sat there on the river bank in a beach chair with my drag wide open, a net and pliers next to me, and watched my line.
It should be noted that I was almost positive I had solved the problem with white bread and WD-40. I had picked up some milk for my daughter, dropped it off at home and told my mom how excited I was. This would surely work! It didn’t, but I did read a bit in the sun waiting for something to hit my line. The only thing I need to change about my approach is my location, and the only thing I need improvement on is keeping my rod clean. With half of the latter two accounted for, I should be catching my first carp any day now.
Fishing, the Universe and myself have been in something of a menage a trois, a bitterly confusing game of hard to get. My relationship with freshwater fishing three years ago had a rocky introduction. It took me three full days to learn to get the line on my reel the right way. I settled on a spinner which I eventually dubbed ‘The Pucker Fucker’ before deciding that it wasn’t worth my time fishing if all I ever did was catch fish when I threw a line out. I needed something a little less instant. I tried bobber fishing. I tried special baits from Walmart. I tried the MIddlesex Canal in Lowell. Every time I thought I was onto a tactic I would never need to change, I would learn something else about fishing that would change my mind.
Seriously, though, how can you go wrong with oatmeal and reading in the sun?
3/6/2018- After struggling to get the oatmeal to stay on the hook again today I threw my hands up to the carp Goddess and decided to go online to see what I was doing wrong. Some time ago, I tried bait mesh. Turns out I was on the right track. I just wasn’t using the right bait. Corn will do just fine. Oatmeal might be okay in the summer when there are plenty of carp swimming around already, but they’re telling me to use corn right now. Obviously corn will dissolve PVA mesh too quickly straight out of the can so in order to prep it I’m going to remove it from the can, pat it dry and put it in a bag with salt. That way it’ll hold long enough for me to throw it out there and the salt will call the fish. In the early spring, carp are deficient in salt. I learned that today and thought that was kind of cool.
My incision hurts like hell today. I went on a long walk along the Merrimack River today looking for a place to fish and did not find one. I found a great trail to walk on in the summer, but nowhere to fish. I’m mad at myself for undertaking the mission this soon after having surgery, but eventually this will be a thing of the past and I’ll have a badass scar, which looks awesome by the way, to show for everything I’ve gone through.
While I wait for the bait mesh to come in, I won’t be spending any money. I do need to start saving money to self publish and if I’ll have amassed as much work as I think I will have, I need to start saving money right now. On that note, I sold 3 articles on Content-Content yesterday and not one of them was the article I wrote two days ago, so go figure. I’ll mine it. It seems like I’m on the right track. My articles seem to be selling within 15 hits. Things have begun to move rather nicely into place for me so that I don’t need to make many changes. It seems that for now, *crosses my fingers (yes, I actually crossed them),* I can relax into ritual.
Begin next bloog post with May 1st, 2014
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