Darn that dream I dream each night

Really enjoying the musical stylings of Electric Nikki. Just two kids making silly music, making fun of Hawthorne Heights, etc. I never thought I would have the urge to put a song on my MySpace page, but I put "Ohio is for Losers" there as soon as I listened to it. "I made that word up!!"

S bought his plane ticket yesterday, figured out the Alaska Marine Highway logistics (much cheaper than flying from Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport to Juneau directly). So he leaves next Thursday for Seattle, and will return September 25. Today his goal was to figure out his car insurance while he's away and call T-Mobile and find out his options. Not being able to send him random text messages will be weird. Not calling him whenever I want to will be hard at first, but then in May I will suddenly have more on my own plate.

I am pretty sure my class will start May 15 and be every Monday and Wednesday night until July 3. Introduction to Library and Information Science will probably help me figure out if this is the proper direction for my life. I'm not really sure how it could NOT be right, but I have to open to the possibility.

Going to watch Cary Grant in "My Favorite Wife," knit on the sweater I started yesterday, and keep my mind off S and unproductive worry.

Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark

Work went well today, and so did the choir practice I went to this evening for the Chrism Mass next week. I joined the festival choir on a whim, because it's not one of those church things that is like "every Wednesday until you die," but very specific in how much it demands and the commitment involved. I'm not really a choir singer, but these are small groups and we sing at St. Mary's Cathedral with good musicians, so I'm excited.

Anyway, had tea with S and found out more about the Alaskan adventure he will be embarking upon. Still leaving in about ten days (next Friday? Thursday? Somewhere in there) and will be gone for five months, give or take a trip at the end of his job to see his dad in Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. I thank God that they offered him the five month position and he took it instead of the ten month option. I was kind of going, "Ten months, God? Well, if that's my burden to bear... But ten months?!" I know it's Lent and all, but hallelujah!

Why am I rejoicing that my boyfriend will be gone for five months? Because he will be happy, and because I think he will be back. I also think that if we both thought, "Hey, this person is interesting" back in high school, and we still are interested in each other now—seven years later—five months is a drop in a very large bucket.

All I know about Alaska I learned from "Northern Exposure"

Really don't know how else to write this, so I guess I just dive in. S is going to Alaska for an as-of-yet undetermined length of time, somewhere between five and ten months, depending on which job he takes. He will leave in roughly ten days.

He's doing an AmeriCorps Vista and will be working somewhere near Juneau, sleeping in a tent, working with high school and college aged kids, and probably digging ditches and getting ridiculous amounts of fresh air.

I am actually incredibly proud of him and excited for him. I know that it will be a good experience for S to have, whether it is positive or negative, but it almost will have to be positive. It's frickin' Alaska! Part of me wishes I could do it myself.

Another part of me, of course, is nervous. I know he likes me very much, cares about me, doesn't want to leave me exactly, but needs to do this to fulfill some other part of himself. So I need to have courage and faith that it will be okay. I might need help with this, from family and friends, but mostly from God.

I just pray that he has a good time, grows strong in the ways he needs to (body, mind, spirit), and doesn't get rained on too much or mauled by a Kodiak bear...

Not everything is symbolic

Just an update: so far, it's been really neat having Andrea at work with me on Monday nights. Last week I missed working with her because I called in sick on Monday, but tonight was fun. We took a break together, and talked in the break room. We even split an Entenmann's cupcake. It was very sisterly and cute. Sometime soon we will also work together on Saturdays, which will not only be more fun, but more economical and environmentally sound since we will take one car and only use one parking space in our overly crowded downtown area.

Now to the main point I wanted to make.

Being a former English major, I tend to notice the symbolism in things that happen as part of everyday life. It's like I attach special meanings to things if they seem particularily striking or literary in nature, almost like, you couldn't write that better, even if you tried. To me, little things can be very meaningful.

Lately, I totally forgot to water the ivy plant that S gave me on Valentine's day as part of his rose-chocolates-dinner surprise. I noticed it wilting yesterday, and immediately gave it attention, but what I really needed was potting soil and some fertilizer so this thing doesn't totally call it quits. Water seemed to revive it, though, as this morning it looked much better. I informed S of my neglect, and how I felt bad about it.

"It's not symbolic, Beth."
"It's not?" I quizzed.
"No, if it dies, it doesn't mean anything about our relationship."
"Really? Okay, great. Not that I'm planning on killing it, but just knowing that helps."

Great relief washed over me at that point. I knew that the ivy plant really didn't mean anything, but because S gave it to me, it does mean something to me. You don't kill a puppy you get as a gift, you don't donate the books you've received as presents, and you (meaning me) certainly do not intend to let an adorable little ivy plant die.

Potting soil and special nutrients are at the ready for a re-potting tomorrow morning.

Each day has enough trouble of its own

Really need to remember Matthew 6:25-34. Not that my anxiety is creeping back or anything, just that I feel afraid and I wonder about the future—don't we all? That's probably when I should read James 3 and remind myself I am mere mist.

I don't know what will happen with my life. I don't know what will happen with S. I'm feeling insecure for no reason, for who knows what tomorrow brings? We've made no promises, and therefore a trust cannot be broken. Dear Lord, just help me with whatever may come.

I think I need some chocolate.

You're gonna make me lonesome when you go

I am at that crappy phlegm-in-my-throat stage of my recent cold. I can't seem to clear it, no matter how much I clear my throat or cough or drink tea. The worst part of being sick was getting S sick, because when I was feeling cruddy, it was nice to be cuddled and kissed, and then wa-bam! He feels cruddy, too.

Last night he sounded quite baritone when we talked on the phone. I joked that he sounded like my cousin Jeremy, and that it seemed at any moment he would say something hilarious and maybe vaguely wise and parental, much like my cousin. He ran with it, because S knew Jeremy before I knew S, and I could not stop laughing at how eerie the vocal resemblance was.

We hung out today—had breakfast, browsed books at Barnes & Noble, talked—and S looked kind of pitiful, which is probably how I looked on Monday and Tuesday, so I felt right in cuddling before he crashed.

New favorite beverage: licorice tea. Apparently a former mutual friend of ours introduced S to it in high school, and I am hooked.

I apologize in advance for this

Can I just say "Snakes on a Plane" kind of reminds me of "The Birds," because, what? There are birds? And it's scary? Except, when you're on a plane, there's nowhere to run! From the snakes.

In this moment...

I think, under former circumstances, say six months ago, I would have been really stressed out by this day of this week, but I feel great. Not anxious, not worried in the slightest, no outstanding concerns to discuss with anyone in any of my relationships. Not exactly all happiness and light, but not stormclouds and strife, either.

Maybe it's maturity that I've somehow grown, or maybe it's by the grace of God, or maybe it's all the chocolate I've been eating, but I feel really okay with everything right now.

At 4:30 I start two days off, a regular weekend, and I have some mysteries to watch (Part 2 of "Devices and Desires" by P.D. James came in for me today!) and plans to see family on Sunday. Righteous.

Me and S, today

What a neat new feature! (Us testing out Andrea's new computer and the program "Photobooth.")

Listening to some salsa and kind of chair dancing

Helping my boyfriend write his resumé recently reminded me that I should probably update mine. I went through it today, looking over my summary of my experiences (seven years in libraries!) and my list of qualifications (detail-oriented! creative! speedy typist!). I added my "in progress" Masters degree, and my latest library position, which includes some supervising of library aides ("supervisory experience").

I realized I should contact my references and make sure that they still would say nice things about me. Sent off an e-mail to a former supervisor at Barnes & Noble where I was a bookseller for about a year and a half. He left the company four months before I did, and can thus actually talk about me to potential employers! Privacy policies are awesome, except when they're not. He said I can use him and gave me his current office phone, so I got to ditch an older reference from the time I spent in Nebraska.

Resumés aren't supposed to be a graveyard, they're supposed encapsulate potential. I hope I have the potential for greatness in service.

A calling

I don't really know how most people find their "dream job," but the way I got to the point I'm at was probably a complete fluke. Around my sophomore year of high school, I needed some volunteer hours. My mom thought I should check with our local library, and while she didn't need a volunteer, she remembered me a year later when her library aide quit. I filled out an application, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Five years at that library taught me a lot. Without this sounding too much like my essay for entrance to library school, I found out that librarians do many things, some of them thankless, but many of them with great personal reward. Serving people, helping them find information they need, teaching them how to use all the library has to offer.

What surprised me most about my orientation at St. Kate's on Saturday was that I was one of only a handful of people there who currently work in a library. How can you know if something is your calling if you've never even tried it? If you don't know all that it requires and will take of you, how can you come to it without preconceived notions? I just hope that those of us with experience can help those without any, and that I can come to class humbly and ready to teach as well as learn.

Listening to the Book of Ruth

Feeling pretty crappy right now. Sore throat, cold symptoms. I thought I had gotten over it by last Friday, but it was back with a vengeance by yesterday in the evening. Called in sick to work and went back to bed for a couple hours. S came over and we went and got cough drops and watched "Howl's Moving Castle," which didn't quite live up to his expectations but I thought was at least worth seeing. And now I'm tired and it's only 8pm, so I think it's time to crawl into bed yet again, and hope that I feel better tomorrow.

P.S. I enjoyed the "Napoleon Dynamite" sestina.

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink

My mind really is on the blink. Got home from the cities around 6pm, hung out with my cousin Simon and his fiancée Eve after my St. Kate's orientation in St. Paul this morning. Didn't get a great deal of sleep last night but made it through today all right. Started crashing late this afternoon so didn't get to help address wedding invitations with Simon and Eve, but probably good I left when I did.

Ate a little when I got home, and started watching "Giant" with Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor and James Dean. Interesting movie, Texas and cattle and oil and marital dynamics. The movie is as big as its title, hence my not finishing it now. Must rival "Gone with the Wind" for its epic style, except I didn't much care for Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's love/hate relationship. Love/hate doesn't fly in the real world, at least not in my book.

Got through all the loan application items on my checklist which I scratched out on a Netflix envelope. Should I add this to my financial file? Need to renew my FAFSA, check on typical repayments for graduate loans, etc.

Listening to "The Jazz Image," which takes me back, way back. It's always been on right after "A Prairie Home Companion," which in this state needs no link. Garrison Keillor's midwestern storytelling around every Saturday dinnertime since I can remember. I always wanted to be able to weave stories like his, not using notes, just standing on a stage in his red bow tie and red socks. The closest I've gotten is a minor in creative writing, capitalized on my resumé to make it seem more important.

Time for bed; brain can't make any more observations today.

Notes to self

- Finish graduate school financial aid stuff. Frightening but necessary.

- Check into medical coverage for students. Look at options for coverage (including dental).

- Watch "Howl's Moving Castle" and send back to Netflix, with or without S.

- Set alarm for early enough to get to the College of St. Catherine by 9am for orientation.

- Be thankful for my middle class problems.

Lately all I'm all right, and lately I'm not scared

I really shouldn't have Girl Scout cookies laying about on my floor today, since I'm fasting and in prayer for my cousin Eddy's recovery from a skiing accident which occured on March 5th. I also have Catholic Apologetics class tonight with my uncle/godfather, Frank. I've learned a lot through this class, and not just about Catholicism. I've learned about faith, hope, and love. I guess it wasn't totally this class that got me thinking about God and my relationship to Him again. For years, I've grappled with ideas of faith, my ideals and what I should be. It's complicated, both on a personal level and on a spiritual level.

Having been raised Roman Catholic means something to me. Catholicism is sometimes on a par with Judaism as far as misunderstood faiths, because people who aren't Catholic have notions about what it means, and even those raised "in the Church" also have skewed perceptions because of their personal experiences. I haven't had negative experiences, but I have had some less than positive experiences, mostly in relation to confirmation. I didn't get confirmed as Catholic, but neither did I become Buddhist or Athiest. And I never closed myself off from the idea of getting confirmed, I just thought fifteen was a crazy enough time as it was.

Last summer, I overheard some conversations my uncle Frank had with some other relatives in various settings. Every year, our family has a big extended reunion type of vacation up north near Bemidji, Minnesota. Mostly, it's playing games and using the lake, but sometimes things get serious, and last year was one of those times. I really admired the way my uncle defended Catholicism, but also accepted that family members he was speaking to were Christian and that we share beliefs.

Unrelatedly, another uncle of mine started asking me "The Big Questions" in a late night conversation at his cabin. I didn't have excellent answers, other than to say, "I don't know... um... I don't know?" and in relation to his questions about my future, my feelings about marriage and children, I got to play the higher education card. "Graduate school. But I don't know what to study at this point. My options are open." Later in the summer, I started dealing very seriously with my level of anxiety over the state of my life, and saw a therapist for what I termed "sleep issues." I readily admit to anyone that I have trouble falling asleep because I "think too much." But what was weighing on my mind was not a public matter.

Part of what my therapist prescribed was a "sleep routine." Just doing the same pattern of things before bed was supposed to send a signal to my brain to wind down and lay off the heavy thoughts. So I began my routine with brushing my teeth, then I would write in my journal one or two lines of thoughts that were running through my mind at that time, and then prayer. Simple prayers, basic prayers, but honest. My therapist was impressed with my progress and said, basically, "What else can I help you with?" and I revealed my conversation with my uncle about my future. She said, "Apply to school." So I did, and I figured if I didn't get into that school, I could try again, and again, or let myself be okay with the state of things.

A lot of resolution has happened in my life since September. Getting a new job so I could stop working two jobs was one change I gladly welcomed. Having Tuesday evenings free to take Apologetics was great. A month passed, October, my favorite month. I was settling into my job, but still worried; my life, my future, my friend S were all on my mind. I wanted to stop waiting for my life to "happen" and have some direction.

Suddenly, it was November, and in the same week, S admitted feelings for me and I got my acceptance letter for graduate school at the College of St. Catherine for a Masters in Library and Information Science. I chalked up my "good luck" to "good karma," putting good things out into the universe and reaping the rewards. But I see now that it was all God's hand in my life. That I deserve nothing I have except through and in Him.

Seeing this in my own life makes me believe that my cousin Ed can be healed, it gives me faith and courage to say that I believe that God can work miracles. And so I just pray, every day, for God to be with Eddy.

Devices and Desires

I have this strange obsession with Agatha Christie based film adaptations. Those "Mystery!" things on PBS? I'm the one person under the age of 40 who watches that kind of thing and likes it. Hercule Poirot? Love him. Miss Marple? Can't get enough. Lately, I haven't watched any mysteries, or really even movies on my own. This is something that I used to do all. the. time. One of my hobbies, so much so that I got Netflix and was able to go through six discs in a week, easily.

All this time I've spent in idle pursuits is now time I spend with my boyfriend—time well spent getting to know him and really enjoy his presence—and then when I find myself alone for stretches of time, I've been reading. I read an entire book (young adult, but still) today while S was finishing up his AmeriCorps application. It was, "An Order of Amelie, Hold the Fries" by NIna Schindler, a book in letters (and text messages). Really quite good. And I'm still working on "The Better of McSweeney's, Volume 1 — Issues 1-10," stories and letters among other quirky things. Additionally, I'm into Jonathan Safran Foer's "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close." So that's at least two books being read simultaneously, and that doesn't include the nonfiction, which include the following:

"Falling in Love for All the Right Reasons" by Dr. Neil Clark Warren
"Just Your Type" by Paul Tieger and Barbara Barron-Tieger
"Quest for Love" and "Passion and Purity" both by Elisabeth Elliot

So I'm a bit of a researcher right now. I can't help it. But I think I should probably watch a movie right now, and what do you know, I have a P.D. James adaptation right here...

Here's the new story

Waiting for my tea to steep. Had kind of a scratchy sore throat last night at work, came home and went to bed early, talked to S sometime around 2am when one of my sisters was banging around downstairs and woke me up, which was good because I'd meant to call him anyway. My throat isn't sore anymore, but I'm going to drink tea and take some Vitamin C and bring some cough drops to work, just in case.

I'm sort of at a loss for what to do right now. My room is kind of messy, and I should probably call my grad school to get financial information (loans 'n stuff) but I should actually probably do something that is very "Beth." I've been wondering about what has happened to my self-concept since having this relationship with S. I was used to being very, very single for a long time, and thus my self-worth and concept came from sources other than a man. Now that I am with someone, I sometimes feel a little bit outside of myself. But it's all good, because I know I am being honest about who I am, and that he likes the real me, not some front I'm putting up.

For later, to expand upon

Thoughts on self-concept, identity, personality as a single; in a relationship. How I change/don't change. How I am unwilling to change but may be making sacrifices I don't realize.

Just wanna wake up, wake up in someone else's arms

Woke up this morning to a phone call from S and snow. He brought me breakfast of quiche his mom had made, which was lovely, and then mostly went to work on his AmeriCorps essay, deciphering the editing that had been done on it. Not sure it was a productive day for him, but he's been sleep deprived the past few days, which I take about half the credit for. Since he currently works nights, keeping him up past 3pm is just a bad idea.

My little sister started her new job today, which is awesome because now we work together. She's a library aide in my department, and is getting trained in as I write this. She knows how to do pretty much everything from working in another branch library for almost three years. I'm very excited that she's here, because it's another cool person to talk to while working. Something about coworkers just brightens my day. This makes me sound like a sap, but honestly, it's good to work with people you like.

Still in my thoughts and prayers is my cousin Eddy. I believe that tomorrow he will be brought to Bethesda Hospital in St. Paul via Air Taxi, but I haven't read an update on his condition recently. I think he is now between a 7 and a 9 on the Glasgow Coma Scale, and they have started some rehabilitation while he is still unconscious (sitting him up in bed, supporting his head). I just pray that he will be completely healed. That may take time, or God may do it miraculously in the blink of an eye. I refuse to be pessimistic about this, because I love Eddy and want him to be okay.

The music's much too loud

Just spent loads of time editing my boyfriend's essay for entrance into AmeriCorps, and then Chris, Andrea's boyfriend, also spent loads of time editing using my edited version and the original version. Now that, my friends, is truly something. The essay, either way, is probably good to go. Chris and I had the same feeling about the essay, so our versions aren't all that different, except he was probably more brutal about word choice, and I felt like I was losing meaning when I changed the original words.

So we'll see what may come.

Let routine dull the edge of mortality

Pulled out some really old sheet music a few minutes ago. Andrea wanted to listen to Bernstein "Make Our Garden Grow" and I sang along a little, because the tenor part grates my lowest note, and the soprano part is comfortabe for me, and the choral part probably contains some of the highest notes I can sing. Was then looking at things I sang for Schubert Club Competition years ago (when was that? 2000? 2001? Oh, 2002, according the postmark on the envelope) and let Chris and Andrea read my critiques from the judges. Most of their remarks were really good, but some were kind of useless criticism.

Nowhere near winning, but a personal accomplishment, no doubt. I sang Puccini "Si, mi chiamano Mimi" from La Bohéme and Heggie "Once Upon a Universe" which is a modern art song since the pieces had to be different periods and languages and styles or whatever. I remember one judge writing that I would be "a lovely Mimi" and that I had excellent pronounciation in a difficult singing language—English.

I started voice lessons when I was in college, with a private teacher, because I had listened to Rufus Wainwright's first album and then checked out some Maria Callas and was like, "yo, I can totally sing like that." I took, in total, four years of lessons with four different teachers—one in Nebraska for the eight months I lived there. Then I slacked for a couple years, and didn't feel the need to take lessons because soprano voices actually peak in the 40s or after, so what's my rush.

I am back in classical voice lessons as of four weeks ago for two reasons. One, I was asked to sing in my cousin Simon's wedding to his girlfriend Eve, who is also one of my good friends. So I need to get back in the groove, so to speak, and really get the voice in shape and ready to sing whatever they want me to sing in June. Two, voice lessons are therapy, in a sense. It's an emotional and physical release to sing. Singing passionate music is a vent for any pent up emotions. Powerhousing a high note is probably as physically satisfying for me as excercise. So for less than 1/3 of the cost of an actual therapy session, I feel mentally put back together after a lesson, plus it has the added bonus of improving my posture.

The only thing about taking lessons is that people I meet and tell about my singing tend to assume that I am either, a) a real opera singer or, b) want to become famous. Neither is true, and I tend to downplay it by saying, "Oh, I sing... a little." And then if people hear me sing, like really sing, not just singing Christmas carols or happy birthday or in church, they go "oh wow" because I guess I can sing more than a little, but I'm nowhere near the excellence of those I admire like Kathleen Battle, Renée Fleming and Kiri Te Kanawa.

Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade

I almost want to rewind today and play it over again, but not quite. It was a mostly great day of sleeping in, talking to my boyfriend, S, having a nice lunch of Vietnamese food with my sister (Andrea) and her boyfriend (Chris). S and Chris got into a small side conversation about politics at lunch, and Andrea looked at me like "Wow they are SMART" which was funny.

And then later this afternoon, I got to see one of my uncles and talk about my cousin Eddy's condition. I guess I feel a little stressed but there's not much to be done about it, save a miracle that completely heals Eddy, which I believe is possible. And the other things causing me stress? Absolutely nothing to be done.

Maybe this should be private, or maybe it doesn't matter, I can delete this later if I feel it should be. But anyway, yeah. My boyfriend and I have what we call "the box" and it's like an extended metaphor or basically inside joke between us. Contained in the box are ideas and concepts that we have taken into consideration and set them aside to take some pressure out of the relationship.

The only way I can really describe it is to explain what is in "the box," and those things are of a serious nature, and a private nature, but they are things involving commitment, I guess specifically our commitment to each other. Things get taken out of the box on occasion, but mostly they stay in the box, although sometimes one of us will accidentally (or accidentally on purpose) take something "out of the box."

Today is approximately our four month mark for dating, and we agreed it was time for a quarterly review of the things in the box. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't quite what I got. What I got was very helpful and meaningful, considered thoughtfully, and what I had to add to the conversation was pretty much nothing in comparison to what he had to offer me for his part. I feel kind of bad about it, because I feel like I am the one who wants to take the things out of the box, and he is the one who wants them left in, when in fact, he is thinking about them when I simply used the box as a tactic to avoid even thinking about them. Obviously, I need to do some thinking, and some praying.

I really am dating a simply awesome guy, a wonderful boyfriend.

I ain't no damsel in distress

So I am sitting here trying to untangle my ear buds to listen to some music while I bang out an entry. I'm at work on break. Okay, untangling completed.

Speaking of work, today is going really fast for me. I am one of those people who honestly loves to work, but some days drag on forever even if I am happy to be here at the library. My job fulfills me in ways I can't even express. My attention for details, my sensitivity to people's needs, customer service, and tolerance for seemingly mundane tasks are all in play when I'm at work. For me, being a library assistant is fun and rewarding, the best fit I've ever had in a job.

This entry has no linear format whatsoever. I guess that makes sense since this has been a topsy-turvy week for me, emotionally.

On Sunday, my cousin Eddy was in a very serious skiing accident in Colorado where another of our cousins is working for the season. Eddy went out to Colorado with some friends to visit Erik, and now he's in a coma. He got too much air on a jump and landed unconscious. The lobes of his brain sheared against each other, his right leg has a bad open fracture (they inserted a titanium rod) and his wrist and ankle may also be broken. He responds to pain stimulus with gross motor movement and has opened his eyes twice that I know of while writing this entry. He's at something like a 7 or 8 on the scale they use for this type of coma (Glasgow Coma Score). I keep praying that he be totally healed. Eddy is only 18 years old, a brilliant young man with a head for computers and heart for God. Lord let him wake up and be completely okay. It's all I can do besides worry.

To leave this entry on a less worrisome note, I've gotten a few very sweet text messages today from the boyfriend. It's amazing what one line of text can do; it could brighten my day or throw me into a panic.

There's one of these for everything, or so they say

As a former diary-x.com user, I am in a blog-less state and have been for the last two months or so since diary-x was lost in a freak hard drive death. Unless you count myspace.com blogs as real blogs. But I guess I don't, because I am starting this one. Normally, I am able to write in complete sentences, but not now.

I was reading an old e-mail, looking for my former blogger password and things (I started selfishknitter.blogspot.com a while ago but can't remember any pertinent info for that blog, plus haven't knitted anything since Christmas, blech). What came up on my Mac instead of a welcome e-mail from blogspot was an old e-mail from January 2004. I had blogged about my wanting to give up on using the internet and writing about myself and I got this from my friend S:

"But I wanted to tell you that I read your blog and you better not stop writing. It would suck, cause reading it is like one of five things I regularly do online. And I just wouldn't be happy knowing one of my friends gave up on something she might actually enjoy and stopped and then you know I get depressed cause I can't read it and then you'd find out and you'd get depressed cause I got depressed and really then no one would have the energy to write blogs for anyone and then where would we be? Simply depressed forever. And maybe unable to find new blog frontiers because you know really really depressed people can't read much less write. They become functionally illiterate you know. But Washington doesn't count them in literacy statistics. It's really sad. So just keep on keep'n on ok?"

So I guess I'm going to keep on keep'n on, as he so put it. Welcome.