Who Will Save Your Soul -- Jewel

I have a feeling that you keep checking here to see if I will write again. Well, like I said before, I never stopped writing, I just stopped sharing it all. 

Have you ever met a truly evil person? Unfortunately, I have met a few. 

One, in particular, that I have to work with again. That's right, folks, the person who used to harass me at a job I had a few years ago is at it again! The box-makin'-bitch is back! Only now she doesn't make boxes. Only, this time around, I refuse to tolerate any unwanted and unnecessary contact with this person. I don't believe that she can understand that. Something is wrong with her.

I have a very strong instinct for people and this one is a bad person. I hesitate to call her 'e-vil as in the fru-its of the dev-il'n (like on The 'Burbs movie, when they're reading up on 'the occult'), because I feel like calling the demons out to their faces just makes them frustrated they can't shed their human skin suits and eat you right there, like a light snack--and I would definitely be unappetizing, as Dad has suggested that I'm just full of piss and vinegar. I didn't really understand that saying but I'm guessing it means that I can be a mean little shit of a person if you cross me. That much is true. I love to call people out to their faces for being huge pieces of shit. I've spent the last three years working on how to tell them to their faces AND THEN DOING IT. I don't think I will be allowing anyone to harass me anymore, either. 

The reason that I don't want to interact with this negatively-charged person is that I am incapable of faking niceties to someone who doesn't deserve the kindness that I had shown before. And they will not have an opportunity to redeem themselves to me, because I don't care to know them at all now. I would prefer if you took it up with God for redemption. You might want to pray about it--a lot. And consider what Jesus would do. Some say he would turn the other cheek. Well, I'm turning my cheek but if you even try to fucking slap me, I will probably hit back. I'm a fan of the Jesus who flipped tables and drug the rich evil bastards out of the Church because they weren't aligning with the spirit of God in a good way. I can't be doin' all that, I know. So I just silently cheer people on when I see them doing good. But I can't be silent when I see people doing bad things. I won't. 

Except for Thursday at work. Some older lady that I don't know at all, I hate to admit that I haven't memorized her name yet, but I am still new and learning everyone's names. That's ok. She seemed like a decent person who is just struggling with how to navigate around a new person in her space. I was seated at my table, on the other side of the building now, learning something new to do, when, after break and the other employees who went outside to enjoy their break had come streaming back in the doors. This lady was mumbling something about feeling like slapping someone as she walked up behind me and gave me a light smack on the back of my left shoulder when she walked by, so I said, loudly enough to get attention from everyone around, who both saw and heard the incident, "What did I do? I am literally just existing over here, ya know?" And we all kinda laughed an shrugged it off because it seemed like she was attempting to make some sort of joke that I didn't quite understand. Everyone was frustrated that day because an error had allowed some products to skip an important step in the process that could not be undone without a lot of extra effort. It was unfortunate because there is a production deadline, but, like one lady said, "Shit happens."

I let this whole incident slide because I kinda felt like the person behind it isn't evil. She might be a not-very-nice person sometimes, but I don't know her well enough to know for sure. But I know enough about how her presence feels to be convinced that she's not evil. I suppose, when I think of people as 'evil' I am most likely spotting someone with very strong dark-triad traits, even if they aren't an actual demon or possessed by one. I can feel their intentions and I know that those intentions are bad. I can just feel it. I don't need to interact with them further to know it for sure. 

I used to believe that people could be redeemed in their lifetimes. Now I know that most people have to go through life several times to actually, successfully, learn all the lessons it takes to not go through hell on earth--again. It's not my fuckin job to help you with that. I am not responsible for walking your path, nor are you responsible for walking mine. I am attempting to walk the Eightfold Path and some of you will never even learn what that is. And, that's ok. It's not my place to force you to learn it or try it. The only thing that I can do is just sit back and watch and wait for you to understand that you're doing this all wrong. It likely won't happen in this lifetime. 

So, if the bitch is reading this, assuming she can seek things out to read on her own anyway, without being led here by another evil person keeping tabs on me, I'll say what I am "not supposed to" say to you in person, at work, so here goes:

Dear Paula B.,

You suck. I think that you are a bad person. I don't want to interact with you. I'm sorry that you have had a hard life and that it's probably only going to continue to get more difficult and unhappy for you. I see that you are the class clown and the cut-up, making jokes to everyone and making a lot of people laugh. I love that for you and for them. I am glad that you can find people everywhere you go that will tolerate your insipid bullshit. I, however, am not one of those people. I have no desire to interact with you further because I know that you lack the capability to learn and grow as a person from the things that you do so consistently. I have heard the stories from others about the same behavior you and your friends have perpetuated at other work places. What happened to all those jobs? Why did you lose your job delivering Amazon packages? I cancelled the Prime service completely after you delivered a package to my place before I moved. I wrote about it here, I think, but if I didn't, let me just say this about it: That day you were at my rental, delivering a package, I meant every fucking word that I said to you. I don't fucking like you and I want you to stay the fuck away from me. I am not allowed to say this to you to your face while I am at work. It is all that I desire to tell you, so I will repeat it: You are a bad person. I don't care to speak with you at all. That's as nicely as I can say it, so, again, I choose not to interact with you at all because I don't think I can be nice to you. You don't deserve any kindness from me at all and the least I can do is stay away from you altogether. I can keep to myself. Can you? Not likely. But you could make a better effort to stay the fuck away from me. 

Why do you wait for me to arrive and get out of my car before you exit yours? Why do you linger near the front door at the beginning of the day? What are you expecting from me? You'll not be getting a cheery greeting from me anytime soon. Are you trying to force an interaction? I know that I am not supposed to be mean to you, so I choose to avoid you altogether. I know this because I feel like dragging this out further and further with unkind words will only make things worse. I believe that you must not understand that you are a bad person. You probably believe that all the little things that you do to others will never result in negative consequences for you. I believe that you are already experiencing them, but that you are too stupid to understand the lessons being presented to you every day of your unfortunate life. It's not my job to point out to you, daily, that you should strive to be a better person. My boss would say to pray about it. In fact, she did. And I prayed a lot about it. And the answer was surprising. I am suppose to forgive you. So I do. You're forgiven but never forgotten. I will remember the way you treated me until the day, probably many incarnations from now, that you learn the lesson for real. Because I will be there to greet you on the other side, as I always do. I know that you are incapable of understanding that. We all return to the source. I wish everyone would understand that but, then again, I can't force a lesson that you aren't yet capable of learning. 

I hope this letter finds you as well as you'll ever be in this life, and that you will continue to improve your life. I still have hope and faith in God. Maybe I don't have any hope that you'll actually change, Paula, but I believe that if you really wanted to, you could. I don't think you really want to, though. I don't believe that you're capable at this point, in this lifetime, of being who you are supposed to be--for whatever reason, you can't shake that devil from your shoulder who's always calling on you to say and do the things that I find abhorrent. So, go ahead, live your life however you want. You're not welcome in mine. I will tolerate your presence like I tolerate everyone else like you, from an observable distance when you're around. I don't need to talk to you to know that you haven't yet changed and that you are most likely not capable of it either right now, or in the immediate future.

I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for any person who feels so lowly of themselves as to make targets of other people with their hatred and their pain. I've heard a lot of jokes in my day at other's expense, including my own, and I don't really care for it. I believe that if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. I don't always succeed in that, but I have a personal goal of not engaging in so much negative talk about other people to people that I don't even really know. That is reserved for times and spaces that I deem safe to vent my frustrations. Work is not one of those places and the people there, although very kind and helpful, are neither my friends nor my family, with whom I might seek to share a moment of commiseration or to whom I may wish to vent any frustrations with life. I choose not to share that stuff with people that I don't know very well and I definitely choose not to share any conversation at all with you, Paula. So I will end with this: I don't like you. I don't want to speak unkind words to you at work. So I choose to actively avoid you. You can continue to follow me around, go to the bathroom when I'm there, come and go when I do at work to try to force an interaction. I've said here all I have to say to you. You suck and you don't deserve any amount of attention from me. You've already received enough. This is the last you'll hear from me unless you decide to physically confront me yourself. I don't want to confront you at work because it is unnecessary. Leave me alone. 

Sincerely,

Laura R.

I used to believe that people are capable of changing. Now I know better. After so many times of letting people, like my ex-husband, and Andy, and all those other 'friends' treat me like complete and utter shit just because I was afraid to lose a relationship, well here's a little message for the rest of you that might be asking yourself why I don't want to talk to you anymore: it's probably one of two things--either I'm busy living my life or maybe I just don't fuckin like you. YOU DECIDE!!! If you are puzzled and I haven't spoken to you in a while, don't take it personally, I really am busy and have changed phones and numbers so many times that I probably just don't have the ability outside of Facebook or Insta or some such. It's okay, I hope you know I love you all. I would say that I love all people. I tried that. I tried to mirror the love that I have received in this life, even toward others who probably didn't deserve any crumbs of it from me. I am not embarrassed to say that I have told many people in this life that I love them even when it seemed to shock them and they were incapable of understanding that I meant it unconditionally, as God wishes we all did love one another. That is how I love. Unconditionally. I can do it much better from afar if I don't like how you live your life. That's why I choose to stay away from some specific people, like Paula B. at work. It's because she has to realize, all by herself, that the things that she does are wrong and that God wants you to try every day to be better than you were the day before.  

Now I also know that people don't always deserve my time, attention, and affection. My family and true friends do. And they will receive it when we interact and even when we don't. My love for them is always there. Unfortunately, I cannot hold back all the love in the world from the people I don't feel deserve mine. They still deserve the endless love that believing in God or another higher power brings, whichever anyone chooses to believe, even if they're not always very nice people, they deserve God's love. Yes, even all you hateful people, you still deserve God's love. You should work harder at feeling as though you deserve this wonderful life and God's love and guard your thoughts, your words, and your actions accordingly. I don't know what else to tell you other than that I'm done with evil people and can't be bothered to try to make them understand that they are choosing to suck at life and feeding the evils of harsh words, harsh thoughts, and harsh actions only makes those things fester and grow until there's no room for anything else. I choose not to do that anymore. I choose the other path. You get to choose yours. I don't have to like you or interact with you, and God's love is there for you if you choose to seek it out and accept it. But I don't have to be the one to show you the way. That is your work. But keep in mind that the path you are on can be changed at any time. It's always been up to you. 

So, stay the fuck over there or walk this path. It matters not to me. I will not mourn your loss from my life one bit. I just wish you could take a very obvious hint that I don't want either the opportunity to speak to you in person or the opportunity for you to try to redeem yourself to me. It cannot be done. Once I know how bad you are, it can't be undone. The only thing that can change that is between you and God, because the other side is where we will most likely meet again, and I have a feeling that you won't be happy to see me coming then, either.  I wish you all Peace, Love and Light, whether you think you deserve it or not. But only from a good safe distance. If I have to tell you to your face, I'm gonna tell you that you suck, but only if it's in the appropriate public environment. 

Born Again -- Saint Motel & The Writer -- Ellie Goulding

When my Grandma Roark passed, we went to Cincinnati. I still vividly remember being curled up in the chair at the funeral home and watching people come and go for what felt like hours. It probably was hours. I still have the velvet dress I wore, it has dragons on it. Mom had told me that Grandma Roark had helped a lot of people over her long life and they had all come out to pay their respects. As it turns out, I've been to a lot of funerals over the years. Some were far more difficult to bear than others. I was reading over the old blog posts and my memories of some things are more clear than what I wrote about some of the dreams I had back then. That's okay, though, I was trying to get the words out. I suppose, when I would be writing, my goal was always to try to paint a picture, convey an image, that I have in my mind, to the audience. It's sometimes difficult to put images into words in just the right way, no matter how hard I try. 

I have finally decided that, sometimes, what I want to convey is the air of a David Lynch movie that has sometimes developed in the past, in my dreams. I would be dreaming along, everything pretty typical, dream world, dream scenario, and then...awareness. I would know that I was dreaming, and then the world would shift, like suddenly it's blue everywhere and things are flooding. I had a lot of nightmares back then. I'm pretty sure that it had something to do with how depressed I was after Mom died. Fighting my own demons was what it took to be able to rest well--I wish I was exaggerating. I had to overcome so many things to be able to be here and writing this today.

Sometimes this is the only gift that I have to offer the world--my words. I hope it's enough.

Homer was kinda like our direct conduit to God. That's why it hurts so much that he's gone. When he preached, you could feel the light shine through him and it truly did feel like he was the Disney Princess of Preachers. I can't recall a time when I attended church that I wasn't moved by his words--that his message didn't touch upon something with which I had also struggled. And, it seemed like he was a natural at conveying the message of unconditional love, of being able to interpret the passages of the Bible and apply them to the struggles of our modern lives. I imagine he and Mom are in heaven arguing about the Bible again. Maybe they just do it for fun now because they have all the answers there?

There's a picture at Dad's house, in a silver frame, a candid of Homer and Bill, in which Homer is happily exclaiming, mouth open in a jubilant hoot of laughter, with Bill right next to him, close enough to throw an arm round his shoulder. I picture them together in heaven, having a grand discussion seated at the largest kitchen table ever, where even God is laughing uproariously. I like to picture them like that because they were so happy. I picture their heaven as all the happy moments of their lives stretching on forever. There are no words that can accurately convey how deep this loss is for not only his family, but also his friends, and our community. So I comfort myself by picturing all our loved ones in heaven together with Jesus at the big table, having an endless last supper with no Judas to betray them. It works for me.

I remember coming to the office in the middle of the day to visit Mom and Dad at work, and Homer being there and they were having a discussion about Community Ministries business, repairing or replacing some siding on someone's house or something, I think. Anyway, after quite a lengthy conversation that only had a little to do with Community Ministries and a lot more to do with their opinions on various world events and news, after Homer had left, I had asked Mom all about Community Ministries and what it was and what they did. I guess, as a teenager and younger child, I hadn't really realized that certain things happening were because good people in the community got together and tried to make things better for others. Every time there was commodities distribution, my Grandparents would always go and Homer was always there, among many others in our community who helped to hand out the commodities. Bill would make two different giant pots of soup beans, he would make a vegan pot so that Homer could have some beans, and one with ham hocks. I don't know what I thought was going on but, when I finally was old enough to pay attention, I discovered that it wasn't just them going and having a soup bean dinner together on a consistent schedule--they were actually prepared in an effort to offer a hot meal to anyone who showed up to distribute the commodities every month.

Mom's desk had been full of papers, snippets of interesting articles, various important paperwork, and, of course little notes about amusing things, an incredibly vague note about her and Homer agreeing about something on a specific date, I think something about the Bible, but who can know? When I went through Billie's office stuff I found that she had kept a binder of all of the copies of Homer's sermons that had come in the mail. Also in the desk, I found a trophy of recognition from Bill's time in Mt. Healthy serving that community. Here I was surrounded by such good people all this time and what the hell have I been doing? Surviving, recovering, and growing as a person? There's something missing here, I think, and I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I'm working on it.  

This loss enhances all the others. I suppose that's why I'm having the morbs about it. It reinforces the uncomfortable reality that the community that we once lived in isn't ever going to be the same again. Yeah, you can still go over and scan some kinda card, pick up commodities, and are on your way again. I'm glad that someone's still doing the commodities distribution, although I wonder if anyone will take it upon themselves to buy the huge bags of beans for the soup every month? Do they do that anymore? (I'm sure it's fine.) 

I guess I could figure out how to take up the mantle, I suppose, somehow, try to fill the bean void? Is that what I'm supposed to do? Should I cook large vats of beans? Is that what I'm supposed to do? Is that my purpose in life? To cook the beans? (I know, I know, I'm just being silly, trying to ease the pain a bit with a little laughter.) But we legitimately found the huge bean-cooking-vats, so I'm ready now! I could cook the beans!

I know I can't completely ease another's suffering--that I don't have the right to do so--but it doesn't make it any easier when someone you care about passes from this world to the next. I know everything is going to be alright, that we all will someday pass from our time here on earth in these vessels. And we will be reunited with all those who have gone before us when we do. I have faith. 

This is what I see when I close my eyes and picture him: Homer in the pulpit, Bible and sermon pages open before him, and he looks to the book and reads a line, and he smiles, head tilting forward as he looks around the room, and then he says the thing that just...ties it all together and the anecdote that he began with has suddenly come full circle and he pauses, lets the silence stretch for a moment, and then hits you with some shit Jesus probably said verbatim (in Aramaic) back in the day, and suddenly you're dabbing your eyes and thinking to yourself that's exactly what I needed to hear today, how is that possible? And that was Homer--he had a way with words, too. And we're all going to miss him.

Heart of Glass & Queen of Scars -- Toadies & Heaven Beside You -- Alice In Chains

Ram Dass answered me this time! 

I know, I know, you'll just say that he's dead and how could he possibly answer me!?!

It's the algorithm, I'm sure of it, but at least it is feeding me Ram Dass content, even if he's been dead for a while. And, just because you're dead, doesn't mean that what you said while you were alive doesn't have an impact. People like to ask why God won't answer directly when you pray. I think God does answer, but you have to be open to receiving the answer from the most unexpected people, places, and even just things encountered in your everyday life. 

Yesterday I posted that I wished I could ease the suffering of those who are enduring it. And then almost immediately after posting to the blog, I saw the Ram Dass quote where he said that he didn't have any right to take away anyone else's suffering. It's theirs. It is for them to endure, change, and learn. Of course he put it very eloquently, whereas I, like always, just came here to write this down before I forget and the words just kinda spill out. Maybe it worked that way for him too, I'm not sure because I never met him. I think what he meant by not having the right to take away another's suffering, is that it is interrupting another's lesson, and I believe that suffering is often a lesson we need to learn about ourselves and our own nature as individual human beings. As good as our intentions may be, sometimes what others need is our presence when they are suffering. For you to sit with them and say, I hear you. Hold space for others. To listen to them and not be dragged into their drama. 

I can't ease your suffering but I can hold space for you when you are suffering!! That's the answer!

I don't have to fix all the problems, I never had to! 

I just have to be present and hold space for those that I love. 

I may not be able to understand your suffering--I may not be able to see inside those dark thoughts in your mind, but I can very much hold space for you! I can give you the freedom to figure it out and still offer you the same love and support that I have always offered!

Sometimes, you get the answer. Just be careful what you're asking for, because you'll receive the lesson you're meant to have and not necessarily everything you've ever fantasized about having in life. 

Beside You -- Toadies

I wrote a bunch of shit and I just wasn't feeling it so I scrapped it and began again. Because you can do that, at any time. Try something new. Make different choices.

I hope you can find hope if you've been struggling.

Words written by Todd Lewis:

I don't give many promises

And you don't really know me

If I could promise you just one thing

It's that you never be lonely

So walk around with your head held high

And I make it my wish tonight

I hope you'll never be lonely

I hope you'll never be lonely

Although I'm leaving, wherever I go

I'll always be closer than you know

So channel your voice and make it true

And I'll be right there beside you

I know it gets hard sometimes

When it comes to leaving

But you're never gonna leave my mind

I only hope you believe me

Although I'm leaving, wherever I go

I'll always be closer than you know

So sing out loud and make it true

And I'll be right there beside you

My wish tonight, I hope you'll never be lonely

Although I'm leaving, have no tears

I will always be right here

And you have a light that will shine through

And I'm right here beside you

I don't want to try to pretend to know how you feel, if you're suffering. I have suffered my own things in life, and still do. I no longer feel the deep dark depths of depression. I find it hard to force my mind back to those times when I felt such despair. I no longer seek to wallow in it. 

I don't know how to save you if you won't try to save yourself, too. 

Maybe I shouldn't try? It feels cruel to leave you all alone in the depths of your own despair. What am I to do? When all you seem to want to do is wallow? All I want to do is sing and dance in the light. Why won't you take it when I'm trying to share my light with YOU!?!?

I wish I could make it easier for you--ease the suffering that you endure! Oh, how much I wish it. 

I love the Toadies, they make me happy and I always sing along. 

But you've gotta save yourself, guys. 

I can't do it for you.  

Here's another song for you, I've shared it before:

written by: A. Kubiszewski, C. Hall, J. Sellers, JAMES ERIC SELLERS, M. Eliopulos, Marcus Eliopolus, Walter Flakus 

Stabbing Westward -- Save Yourself

I know your life is empty

And you hate to face the world alone

So you're searching for an angel

Someone who can make you whole

I cannot save you 

I can't even save myself

So just save yourself

(Save yourself)

I know that you've been damaged

Your soul has suffered such abuse

But I am not your savior

I am just as fucked as you

(I am just as fucked as you)

I cannot save you

I can't even save myself

So just save yourself

Please don't take pity on me

Please don't take pity on me

Please don't take pity on me 

Please don't take pity on me

My life has been a nightmare

My soul is fractured to the bone

If I must be lonely

I think I'd rather be alone

(I think I'd rather be alone) 

You cannot save me 

You can't even save yourself

I cannot save you

I can't even save myself

Save yourself

So just save yourself

I think that it's really important to note how the lyrics change at the end. I truly believe that you can be saved, but sometimes you absolutely have to do it yourself.

When I was deep in depression, I listened to a lot of different music for a lot of different reasons, but sometimes it was to wallow in the darkness, to wallow in the sadness of losing my mother. It was grief. I wallowed and I raged and I survived. 

I'm still here. 

She Likes Surprises -- Soundgarden & Absinthe -- I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

It was my open letter to God; like I said in that post (The Day I Tried To Live), I never really expected an answer. You can imagine my surprise when I actually did get an answer. It wasn't the one that I wanted, but it was an answer, nonetheless. 

I'm not sure if I have written about this here before, I know that I have written about this a lot both by hand and on a keyboard but it's hard to say where exactly. I do not envy the children who will have to sort through my papers and computers after I die. 

I hope all my stories don't die with me. 

When I was a teenager I was extremely sad for no reason and could just not figure it out. It went on for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. I know now that this was probably the beginning of PMDD--but, at the time, I just had the sads. I would pray to God all the time to just deliver me from the misery. Every night for a while I would pray not to wake in the morning. And each and every morning--or early afternoon, as one might expect of a teen on the weekend--warm sunlight would spill through the windows and, upon waking, I would deride god for not having given me overnight what I had asked of him in my prayers the night before--and then one day, I was mad about it and was like allllrighty then. So much for praying. And it is so interesting to me that this is the memory that is stuck fast in my brain. I can remember where I was when I had the thought, not really the outfit I was wearing, but I can see the room--my bedroom as a teenager, painted a very pale lavender--I had just stepped into the room onto the berber carpet and was hovering in the doorway for a moment when the thought came to me. Maybe the lack of an answer is the answer; God doesn't want me to die. Or to suffer. And if he's not going to personally come down here and fix me being sad all the time, then I've got to do it for myself. I will make myself happy. 

This one thought changed everything, and this moment in time--that is the memory that I turn to when I might be excessively sad and trying to think my way back out of the sads. Sometimes, when you're really upset it is easy to forget that it is the endless well inside that we must tap, rather than looking outside of ourselves--everything we need to seek about God and life--it's all inside that bottomless well. Maybe you know what I'm talking about. Maybe you don't. I'm not sure that it matters if you quite understand, but, maybe someday you will have your own epiphany and these words will make so much sense. It kinda goes back to the Ram Dass quote about being on the path--don't worry, you don't really have to do anything, you're already on the path. 

I had a very weird dream the other night. I don't want to share the exact details because I don't know that they matter as much as conveying the feelings that I was having during the dream. Sometimes I am sure that when I'm dreaming I am actually slipping from my own body and joining that place we all go when we die--and, from there, I was in another's body and that person was hopeless. But they didn't know that I was inside them now. (Freaky, I know, but I beg of you please read the Remember Me series by Christopher Pike--yes it's YA, and I have loved these books all my life and reread them every few years). But the people around this person knew she was hopeless and they were trying to break her, to get her to take her own life. Which I couldn't let happen. So I took over. Whatever it was that she would have done if  I hadn't been in her body didn't matter anymore, because I was going to show her and everyone else that you don't have to be hopeless and you don't have to break and suicide yourself. So I started being me instead of her in the interactions she was having during this day. She was scared to death, hopeless that things wouldn't ever change or get better, and it's a feeling that took me back to the scene in my lavender bedroom as a teen. I knew the answer and it was inside me. I laughed in the faces of the people who were telling dream-me horrible things, trying to provoke me, that wanted to hurt me--and when I laughed, their looks of evil hatred turned to shock and amazement for a moment before they switched immediately to anger and they doubled down. But I had already found the well inside that I knew was there and I was already dismissing all that hopelessness and replacing it with the faith, hope and love of that endless well. The dream was over, at least that part of it was, when I found that well and tapped into it. 

The best way that I can describe the feeling of the well is--every happy loving moment that you've ever experienced or hoped to experience is inside it and it feels like your whole body will burst with love. There's a word for it, I suppose more than one, depending on how you view language and semantics. Sublime. The most incredible feeling. Like being safe, loved, and whole. 

FINISH IT!!!

So that's is not a song title, at least not to my knowledge, anyway. It's kind of from Mortal Kombat. But I have an idea...you know all the older blog posts that are kinda short, they feel like there might be more to the story!?! Well...there definitely is more!! And I'm gonna give it to ya! 

Look forward to new blog posts that relate to the old ones by being titled with another song from the same bands and/or albums the original post's songs are from--it's gonna be so rad! I am excited to share so many cool things with everyone who comes here! There are a lot of things that I would like to write and I feel that I have released a lot of negative emotions here that had been souring my soul and I would like to keep going! This is a true purge of all the bad shit that I don't want to hold onto anymore!

Do you want to know what I am doing this morning? I am singing and dancing in my kitchen while I bake gluten-free (yes, I'm back on my bullshit) blueberry muffins. I made a giant muffin, by the way, and it is spectacular and cooked all the way through! the muffin pan I have only holds six muffins and it's hot so I made a blueberry loaf as well. They're delicious, just in case you're wondering. 

It seems like a good time to put a song in here so just go listen to a whole album or something. I recommend Afterglow by Saint Motel. It just dropped this month. Check it out.