With the temperature below zero these past few days, I should probably be thankful I have a warm home, a warm workplace that pays me well, and a vehicle to get me to and fro. I should be cognizant of the many people in our community and across the country that are having trouble staying warm, whose very survival is in question.

Instead, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself because I have a few common challenges to face, wishing they would just go away without any effort from me.

The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward. – Amelia Earhart

Honestly, I know better than to start a sentence with the word “honestly”. It doesn’t mean that someone should consider this statement more honest than others (and if that was what I was trying to convey, then I might as well invite someone to distrust everything I say).

I think what I usually mean by it is something along the lines of “I’m trying to say something a little more open and vulnerable than I usually do, and I’m putting myself at risk because I want you to take this information under consideration when you evaluate this situation/your response/whatever”.

However, I sometimes mean nearly the opposite: “I do not intend to spare anyone’s feelings or take them under consideration as I vent my frustration/anger/whatever on this topic.”

I should probably identify some better (different) words to use in case A and B.

A => “Something I really need to say and have you hear is…”

B => “Let me be brutal for a minute…”

Honestly, though, I know it wouldn’t matter.

I think I’ve realized that I’m actually really stressed out these days, and that the way it manifests (besides a general feeling of uneasiness) is an unwillingness to do anything. I can’t bring myself to interact with my environment more than absolutely necessary.

Part of misery is, so to speak, the misery’s shadow or reflection: the fact that you don’t merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief. – C.S. Lewis

Last night, I had my third lucid dreaming experience (in the last couple years, may have had others when I was younger).

I was checking out places (camps/houses?) on a lake. I remember really liking one site – the water looked swimmable, and there was a huge interesting rock jutting out of the water that seemed like it would be fun to play on. There was also a small house on the site.

I became aware that I was dreaming, and decided I’d like to go inside the house. I liked the site enough without any kind of structure on it that it didn’t really matter what the house was like – plus, knowing it was a dream meant it wasn’t real in the first place. Still, it was disappointing to enter and find a cramped, grimy, roughed-up trailer-like interior.

It had a small, dirty kitchen, one of those tiny triangular bathrooms, and a living room area. There was a purple throw-pillow on the couch that was torn in half. At first, I didn’t really want to touch anything, but then, realizing that there wasn’t anything there to actually touch, I started to rub some of the grime off a chrome countertop and polish it with my sleeve, to see what was underneath the layer of neglect.

I woke up shortly after that because I was going to use the facilities but was worried that I might actually pee myself in the real world, lol.

I just want the questions to be quiet for a little while.

There are times when all the world’s asleep, The questions run too deep For such a simple man – Supertramp

I wonder if sometimes words need to be said in order to determine the truth of them. (I’m speaking more of “subjective” truth, I think.) The problem with that, though, is that the words can’t go back to being unsaid, or – more to the point – unheard.

I propose them so that they can be pushed around, tested, remolded, until a better version is reached. Their original form still exists in memory, though.

But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself. – Miss Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

I can get a little of the desired effect by writing it, so that no one else need remember it. Still, it’s one of those things that works better with another set of eyes to help sift the sandcastles I’ve built in my mind for whatever grains of truth might exist therein.

Maybe that’s what friends are for (one of the things, anyway).

I’ve been enjoying the mood calendar my sister gave me for my birthday, but over time, I noticed I was missing some critical moods. Today, I rectified the situation.

Too many things going on… Broken vehicle requiring an expensive repair, kids who need to be more responsible with homework, a house with a ton of serious issues, a Dad who needs housing and care but has almost no income (wears out his welcome within days wherever he stays), and… well, other things

Blah, blah, blah… I want it all to go away. I’ll get through it or past it, of course, but for now I’m picturing a different life.

30 miles to the gallon, 0 to 60… sometimes – Audio Adrenaline

Since Google+ is going away, I’m moving over here. This will be my new wall to splatter with the paintballs of my mind.

Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese. — G.K. Chesterton