Allways.

Why not?

I see I can edit the text and everything, just like before. Surely when I get around to it, I can add html? Is it like that still? It has been so long.

I don’t like having to type in this white window, for it to then appear in its intended format. Like if I could write straight out with the colors and background, all that jazz, I might feel more inspired. I’ll bring it up at the next board meeting.

Life is stable, for the first time in some time. Always moving around, drag a few things from one place to the next, set up shop again, tear down again eventually. Not this time. Not to say I’ll never leave where I am now, but I am confident that I’ll be able to make the next move entirely on my own terms. I honestly don’t think I could have ever said that before now. You have no idea.

Strange winter, bitter cold the other day, some snow and ice, but mostly mild otherwise. Nothing too severe except what we just went through. The house stays warm. I have all my amenities.

I’m hungry, a tad stressed and occupied earlier so I didn’t make myself anything substantial for dinner. I’m not starving, and there is food. It’s not like I’ll die. Tomorrow I’ll be more myself, having mostly dealt with something today, I won’t have to think about it again for a few more days. It will cross my mind, but it won’t require the intense emotional focus I spent on it earlier.

Tech tech tech tech tech. There needs to be a balance. I don’t like seeing people bent over their devices all day, especially out in public. You’re exploring very little by stuffing yourself in that tiny screen, hours on end. Not you. I don’t mean to accuse. But you know if you are. Spending too much time in the Twitterverse, or where ever. So many avenues these days. Very few of them inward. And that’s where we all need to go. Outside is merely a reflection of the inside. But we’ll get to that another time.

No ego.

Some ego. One. While we love others, we should hopefully also love ourself, and in some sense, that self is One. An ego. Not be denied. But not to be inflated, either. I don’t exist without you. And vice-versa.

I’ll leave you with that for tonight. I could write for a very long time, hence part of my inclination to write a book or three. And I don’t want to waste all my material here. But for the time being, for a few months, maybe more, I’m sure I’ll be around, unloading. Uploading? Giving. I have very little to offer. Except my insides. Even my outsides go through my insides before being transposed here.

It’s always a pleasure. As it should be.