Two tickets dated within five days of each other. I do believe that the Oregon Police Dept. is conspiring to drain me of all my money. Anyway, this is a test of a cool feature of Gaim that allows me to post to my Blog just like a would to a normal chat conversation. We'll find out how well this works and how handy it truly is in a second here.

Where to begin... how do I sort a beginning from the thousand and one strands of thought floating in my head? Where does one even end and the other begin, or is there an ending anywhere present in the vast continuum. Some of the thoughts that seem so random contain the strangest of connections, so it is with me and with everyone I've observed.

Observation, there is a good beginning. A key to our human survival and the trait of our humanity, observation is what allows us to learn, to grow, and to experience life. If we've lost the ability to observe, can it be regained? Or doe we just stare blindly ahead for the rest of our dull existance.

A catch-22, one that can only be broken by exposing myself to a possible world of rejection and pain. How do I let someone know who I really am. Who am I, even. I don't know, I've hidden it away for so many years. TFearing the horrible outcome of choices I've made, I hide behind the mask of indecision and ease. It may not lead to the road you want and it will ultimately only lead to lukewarm relationships at best, but that is certainly better than the possible fire I'd experience otherwise, ne?

How do I explain what this rambling is truely about... I fear my past affects who I am today, and I fear that any relaizations I have tonight will be lost in the morning sun. Memories that I wish I could recall, but that only flit at the edge of space and time. And that make me wonder, when will any of it make sense.

I want you to love me, to desire and want me. But to do this means I must reveal who I trueyl am to you. Who I truely am is a person not worth loving, desiring or even engaging in conversation with. Thus the dilemma.

There, that wasn't has hard to say as I thought it would be. So I why didn't I just come right out and say it. I don't know...

I am geting tired now, and I did not write down even a tenth of what I originally wished to say. Already I can only vaguely remember most of it, and much is fading fast. Goodnight, I pray the dawn will bring better beginnings.

I don’t want these windows to be open all the way, in fact I don't like them being large like this. And I certainly don’t like the font the way it is, what a strange, odd font this one is. How very weird, and why does word think I'm typing an entire run-on sentence? I don't know, and why I do look down to the side sometimes, or just when things are starting to make sense I look away, it's like I can't handle what is really the truth...

Damn it. Every time I start typing in Word it is converting everything to Japanese...

Douglas Adams called it “the long, dark tea-time of the soul." I don’t know exactly what he was referring to with that title, but it certainly describes what I’ve been going through. It’s been long (very long it seems), it’s been dark (and depressing with only occasional glimmers of light) and if it’s been a tea-time they’ve only been serving me Earl Gray.

Every night I sit in front of this damned screen and attempt to figure out what exactly it is that I’m feeling. But what I’m feeling and what I really want often remain unknown to me until I verbalize them. Speaking out is often the only way I truly know who I am. Doesn’t this seem odd? Other people seem to know who they are and what they want without the need to externalize and vocalize it. Me? I often don’t know what I’m really thinking until after speaking it.

This is certainly something to ponder while I go to sleep…

When I have those moledramatic, mushy daydreams this Simon and Garfunkel lyric general describes them:

I can hear the soft breathing
Of the girl that I love,
As she lies here beside me
Asleep with the night,
And her hair, in a fine mist
Floats on my pillow,
Reflecting the glow
Of the winter moonlight.

She is soft, she is warm,
But my heart remains heavy,
And I watch as her breasts
Gently rise, gently fall,
For I know with the first light of dawn
I’ll be leaving,
And tonight will be
All I have left to recall.

This pretty much says it all right here. My experience wasn't as deep or involved as Templeton's but there were too many similarities to ignore...
Losing My Religion

With you and me, bent...

This is an attempt to organize some of the thoughts that are floating around in my head. Well, ok... there aren't many thoughts floating around in there right now. but there are a few, and they have no rhytme or reason to their paths. just garbled and longing.

When I close my eyes, I can see the remnants and remains of staring and intense focusing. Instead of letting it go and just taking things as they, I've begun to tense up and ingnore. closing my mind (my inner eyesight) I've found was the only way that I could make it through without the mental pain.

It is my greatest hope and deepest desire to someday look at the world through my own eyes with my own unaided vision and see things the way they really are. Imagination as an aid to eyesight, so said Bates. Well, I've found it's very true. When I'm able to close my eyes and visualize what I wish quickly and easily, that is when my eyesight is best. And vice versa.

As I relax my eyes not only feel lighter... my entire upper body does too. In fact, I begin to feel my sinuses clearing and I notice more smells, more sensations.

An interesting point of fact... when I'm straining with my eyesight, my tongue presses against the left side of my mouth, up against my teeth. There it grinds against the teeth and the annoying dental fixtures on them. It is painful, but it reminds me that I'm straining.

The only problem with regaining my memory is that I occasionally see things that I sincerely don't wish to recall. I wonder if it was stuff like this that helped me along the path to denying my ability to visualize and recall. It seems kind of odd, but also very possible.

I can see the letters, but I can't actually make out what the say. It's like they look like strange symbols to me that I've never seen before. No, right now they're just blurry. But when they're not blurry, just slightly so, it is then that they just look weird, indecipherable.

So I'm reading the case histories of people who've had experience with the Bates method and with bates teachers. It is ver[y interesting to notice the similarities in peoples exerpeinces and in my own experieince. The stinging eyes, the headaches, the flashes of vision. The frustration and thehopes and the relaizations. As one person put it, normal sight is not exciting... it's just normal.

I think that I have a hero complex. I've always wanted high drama in my life, though I often try to avoid it at the same time. That is, I want it but when I actually get it I realize how mcuh pain it is. But all the same, I do things to myself and other people that are done with the intention of making me look like the troubled hero. forlorn, forsaken, loft and mighty. But what I didn't relize is that everything I really wanted is just normality.l It is not exciting, that builds from the normal, not detracts from it. The exciting is not different from the normal, it just appears so to those who aren't normal. So I decide not to try so hard, jjust let things come to me and happen. Let my eyes go funny if they decide to, it's normal. In fact, it's not normal sitting here typing this but being unable to actually read it. What would be the normal thing to do would be just to not worry about it and just see it. Understand that I'm seeing is firstly all in my head. If I can't see it, it's because somehow I've chosen not to. So now, I choose to actually see it.

I'm not trying to see it, I just want to see it. I'd rather face those memories than attempt to hide and destroy them. Let them come, because I'm not going to fight with them. They are a part of me, they have happened and will let them go. I will not strain to keep them around, the mind already does that (keeps them around that is). I don't need to strain to remember because the mind already remembers everything. I don't need to strain to see because the eyes already see everything.

Maybe the whole point is that I don't need to DO anything... just let things come and happen. I don't need to try to do anything. My body is already designed to do it all for me. And by body I mean everything, including my mind.

This my first post... here is where I will save any thoughts and occurrences I deem as worthy.

I've read essays that say life is a competition. The best, the brightest, the most able among us shall prosper the greatest. Is this so? So I state now, for the record, that life is not a competition. It is as it should be and is nothing more.

Just like the Evolutionist states "Life exists because it can." so I say "I live because I'm alive." That is, there need be no reason for my existence or what I'm doing here, rather what I'm doing here becomes a reason itself.

Everything I say is calculated. Let no word linger unrequired, nor a sentence unresolved.