We sometimes share things in the "my life today" topic in the porch conference,m Riette, but this diary idea is nice. Now that summer is here, and the girls are out of school, we spend our days doing the most fun stuff. Playing dress-up, going for long walks in the woods, acting out these incredibly imaginative scenarios that those two think up...they are just wonderful to be around. I feel so fulfilled like I never did from any job, and I just think we are so lucky to have each other--it's like we're in our own little world and no one else is invited (this is hard on Daddy). We have a school segment every day, where teach either French, writing, speech, math, art or geography. After I finish they always want a turn to be the teacher. Of course it's not always fun stuff, there are errands to run and arguments to mediate, etc., but overall it's a dream. I'm somewhat nervous/excited as we're going to look at a house tonight, but I don't want to jinx it by talking about it.

Right, I won't ask. Except - how big? Glad to see you also enjoy your girls. It must be great with them being a bit bigger. I can't do quite so much with my two yet. Isa, the three year-old has been walking for all her life (started at 7 months!!), and is no problem, but Elza, the two year-old can't walk too far yet, so the pushchair still has to tag along most of the time . . . which is a pain. So I tend to stick to places that aren't too far away from home - she is really bad tempered, and a pain in the butt when tired and annoyed (not like me at all, of course!). But I love being a mother. I was really scared when I got pregnant with Isa - I felt like I was too young, and not ready and all that, even though we planned it that way because of our age difference. But now I would not change things for the world. And I love having girls - not sure what I would have done with boys. They are such little acresses! They always bring me their winter stockings, which I then have to pull over their heads; they pretend it's their long hair!! It's so hilarious! And, yes, I know about the dressing up too! It's great fun. Today I've made my first good sculpture, so I feel quite happy.

i didn't know you did sculpture. i woke up this morning, oh okay it was this afternoon like around 3:00 or 4:00, well it was probably closer to 5:00. combed my eyelashes. plugged my nose. went out to eat to get me some dim sum (i always layer mine with nacho cheese & ketchup). came back home and got dressed. dusted off my photograph of Thomas Jefferson hugging Daffy Duck (taken by Edward Steichen, and i believe that happened on the same day Trotsky was killed in Mexico). I went to North Korea to check out all their Baskin-Robbins (was a little disappointed). Flew back to Austin in time for lunch (went to get some dim sum...they told me it was prepared in Brooklyn). Got home, took off my clothes and visited the PTA for the elementary school that's 11 blocks away (they were having their monthly meeting and i delivered a box of AK-47s to a big round of applause). Stopped off at a Motel 6 to see if they had any badminton birdies (bought a dozen, plus a satellite photo of a rootbeer in the hand of a Gatorade salesman in Vermont). Came back home, got dressed. Went out to eat (some dim sum, and at the height of its taste). Came back home, laid down in the bathtub, started thumpin' sum Chumba, fell asleep just as FedEx knocked on the door with a delivery of sum fresh bathwater. I didn't answer their knock. I was asleep. Had my eyes closed, too.

See, I knew this would be a good topic - it just explains everything, doesn't it? Wish I had such . . . eventful . . . days. You probably sleep in a coffin, right? ha-ha!

Today I woke up late for my exam. And then discovered it was 5.10 a.m. I slept again, until around 9 a.m., when I decided to get up. I pottered around for a while, feeling weird about the two Finnish people who are living in our house at the moment. They're old friends of one of our housemates, the only weird thing being that he flew out of the country on Friday, leaving them here until Sunday. Did some revision around 11 a.m., decided that I knew most stuff, and pottered about doing lunch stuff and killing the PC (again...). Battled through the rain to the station (15 minute walk, which sucks when the weather's cack), got on the train, got off at school, walked to the library and found my fellow exam people. Sat in the library basement, eating chocolate bars, talking about exams and courses, which was quite nice. Saw some people who I haven't seen for a couple of weeks. I realised that I had kind of missed them. Not sure what it will be like over the summer. Did the exam. It was super easy - should get a good mark. Managed to derive an equation from scratch just by reasoning, which I was pretty chuffed with. Made a mistake in the second line of my first question, which carried through the whole thing (two sides of A4). I had to re-write the entire question in just 15 minutes (it was a 30 minute question). Not impressed. I finished with about 2 minutes to spare. Came home. Played music. Sang. Practised for tomorrow night, as I'm going to go and sing at one of the university bars. Now it's 1.45 a.m., and I should be in bed, ready for church tomorrow. But I'm not. Ooopsies.

You sound a bit like a character from Dead Poets Society! Do you sing well? And what instrument(s) do you play? Yesterday I painted my sculpture. He's a funny looking little African fellow, with something both noble and decadent about him, sitting on a stone, wearing a big, colourful mask and a black and white checked shirt. Think I'll call him Raka, after the half man creature who symbolizes downfall and its importance in society in African literature. He's defenitely going to be part of my next exhibition.

We're in the throes of packing, as we leave Friday for 2 weeks in New England (specifically Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine and Quebec). It's done nothing but rain here and we can only hope sunny skies will prevail for this long-planned-for vacation. I am not driving 200 miles between destinations to sit in a hotel room playing Uno. Mike, I'm so glad your exams are going well--please tell us what kind of singing you do! Leplep, glad you're enjoying the dim sum! (LOL!) Riette, good for you for finding (or losing?) yourself in your sculpture, is it great to get the creative juices flowing or what? I get misty thinking about you pushing your daughter in a stroller, or maybe I'm just emotional in general these days. Offer made, countered, re-countered, rejected, blah blah blah. 3000 square feet (NO idea what that is in metric!!)

ha-ha!!! But DON'T!! God, Autumn, I can't believe you've already forgotten what the first year is like!!! I mean, I love my kids, but I didn't enjoy the first year - no, two. Having the first one, getting pregnant again after five little months, being fat for nine, having another, and then that year with her and a big sister who was also still a baby, all those nappies, the crying, the getting up, the getting confused between which one was on the breast, and which on the bottle . . . . aaahhh!!! I can sure appreciate why my mother waited six years before having my brother - having your kids close together, you did too, didn't you?, is tough, but having twins, I think, must be absolute HELL!! Anyway, I hope you have a wonderful holiday - nothing in sight for us yet, but we may go up to Scotland in August, I'm going to Florence for a weekend with a friend in October, and after that I'm going to visit my sister in America - looking forward to that. Let's see, what did I do today, besides eating pancakes . .. Oh, yes, I'm disgustingly creative - I did a whole design for my next painting of 100 x 140 cm, which is going to be a still-life, AND painted two of the sunflowers in it!!! Spank me!!

Sitting on the cat scratching post in front of the computer desk, with Tahjs alternating between getting comfy in my lap and jumping up to chase my fingers on the keyboard. Been packing for days on end. The house is a reality for us but I certainly sympathize with your bidding woes Autumn. We lost the first house we wanted. I've gotten myself an internship at a computer training facility. Unpaid but on my own schedule. Trying to open up some doors. I don't think I'll be teaching for thirty years (at least not straight through). Took myself out for breakfast this morning. Coffee bagel. I needed a bustling spot in which to sit and write. I wrote a poem for my father to send for Father's Day. Seems the older I get, the fonder the memories are. My last few days have been spent in relative solutide (minus the time at the computer center). I've received a few letters from the friend I mentioned a couple of weeks ago (odd timing) and I've been thinking a good bit about my life in general... what am I happy with, what am I unhappy with, what can I change, what do I want to change? Just pondering. And writing. And packing.

Moving always depresses me. When I'm in one place, I'm not so aware of my mortality. But when one moves, then you realize that a chapter in your Life is now finished, no turning back, not a single day to be retrieved - it's just gone. And you living space with its memories is going to become the new chapter in someone else's life. I find that very sad somehow.

I was morose and melancholy on Monday night. We have really made this house feel like a home and I worry about all the changes taking place with this new place but Brandon and I talked for hours about the good changes. He is so excited for me to get into this house. I haven't seen the inside since we bid on it but he went for final inspection a few days ago and was reminded how beautiful it is. How perfectly it suits our tastes. I'm chattering away on the computer but I need to go put on some nice clothes... we are going to the mortgage company in about 45 minutes to sign papers! I'm excited now. Still a bit nervous but excited. We discovered last night that our cats SUCK at hunting and catching bugs. They stalk them for hours and then start chasing each other. Attention Deficit I'm sure. Oh! And I got flowers yesterday "just because." That gave me warm fuzzies.

That's great. I too had a rather nice day. In the midst of my coughing and splattering the phone suddenly rang; turns out Mr. C. had sent some photos of my pictures to a CD company without my knowing, and they want to use my work for some of their Jazz CD covers. I thought that really very nice, so I'll probably go for it.

What pleasant surprises you've both been having!! Both starting on a new venture(s)...Stacey, does your new house have a submarine galley kitchen too? I've been bitching about mine for 9 years, but the prospect of moving suddenly makes it sentimental. I keep looking around and saying, "That's where L. took her first steps! This is the room they were conceived in!" (NOT the galley) Like this house has our very essence in it. I can't help but think that our energy will remain if we leave, and that it ill enhance the well-being of the next owner. For all its shortcomings, I suspect it will always be the most special place we've ever lived.

I think my first house will be my last - I'll never let go of it again. I grew up in partly in a large colonial house, and partly on my grandfather's farm with all that space - living in a flat (because to buy a small house here in Switzerland costs about 3 million Sfr . . . ) really gets my ar$e. One earns so much money, but the quality of life as far as space and freedom are concerned, is SO much lower than in my third world home country.

My exams are still going well. Unfortunately I'm suicidal, which is bad. Starting to worry. The music went well last Sunday. I sang "More Than Words" by Extreme, and "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marks. This week I've been singing "Wonderful Tonight", by Eric Clapton. I decided it might be interesting to learn to play it, so I did. It was surprisingly easy, even though I don't have a copy of the music to listen practice with. Pieced it together from memory. I can't remember the bridge, though, o I'll have to nick someone's CD. Went down to the beach tonight. Am depressed as fuck. Started to write to a friend, but got annoyed with self-pity. Came home. Drank a litre of orange juice and then decided to come here. I'm my own worst enemy at the moment. Don't seem to be able to do anything right for anyone at the moment. I do things for them, they don't care. I offer them places to live, they turn them down. I buy them gifts, they accept them with hardly a word. Shite. Today was Cake Day, where our housemate Christine comes home from work laden with cakes from the bakery. A particularly huge haul today, and much of it still sits on the kitchen floor. Great cakes. Still fucked up over here, though.

sorry to hear you so bummed, Mike... better watch it or you'll turn out like me...

I'm trembling in my clothes at the very thought . . . Oh, Mike, I'm sorry you feel like this. I wish Jim would come back, because he is the one with the inspiring words. And I'm afraid I am the last person who can give you advice where depression is concerned, and how to deal with it. My way is a little unorthodox . . . I am sorry you feel unappreciated and without love - that would depress me too. You seem like a very generous, caring person - easy to rely on, and easy to use. Don't let that happen. There is, I think, a difference between between loving one's neighbour and allowing oneself to be stepped on. No-one deserves that, and you probably less than some. Care, but never stop treating yourself with the respect you deserve. Don't deny your own feelings. Don't hate yourself. Sometimes when I read that one of our friends here are having a difficult time, I so wish we all lived in the same town. That way we'd be able to organize an emergence meeting in my living room every time one of us needed it, and we'd really be able to help one another, instead of having to type a bunch of words into a dumb computer. Words aren't worth half as much as a hug (Teletubbies style!!) and the warm presence of friends who truly care. But if you get desperate, let me know - we're practically neighbours, so feel free to pop across and visit me whenever you like. You are probably also just in desperate need of a break with all this exam stress - it has been going on for weeks and weeks, and that's enough to drain anyone's energy and lust for life. Besides, the number of long faces here is enough to bring anyone to laughter!! But I am serious - I'm not just a written paragraph on your computer; you are my friend, and I am here for you, unable to give good advice, but willing to listen, and willing to help in any way I can. Just want you to know that.

Same here. We mean more than words on a screen to each other.

Mikey!!!! *big hug* wish I knew more about you, so I could suggest a course of action... or even what's getting you down, so we could talk about it. PLEEEEEAAAAAAAASE don't say it's this girl thing. Never, ever worth it! Besides, if your fond of someone and would be interested in a more intimate relationship, you have to make yourself look and feel as good as you are... not superficially, but attitude wise. If a hug will help (and they usually do), here is one big one coming throught he electronic ether... *HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUG* If a run or a scream or a yell or a really auful rendition of a melancholy song would be helpful... I've got the song part covered! hope things improve soon! Remember that sometimes in the depths of a great depression, there is great opportunity for growth!

I have something to share - something which caused me intense amusement today. I have this friend who also has a girl. She is determined not to let this child grow up with the gender thing. Only buys her what she calls, 'uni-sex toys', because she believes that if girls act girlish at the age of three, it's due to a sexist upbringing. We've argued about this a thousand times, but in the end I decided to respect her principles. Anyway, so the little girl had her birthday last Saturday, and I had Mr. C. take the girls and a present around to the party (I was already sick then). T e toy I sent was a plastic toolbox - a kind of 'Home Improvement' set for kiddies - thought it uni-sex enough. Today my friend rang up, furious, because Alexandra has started putting the little hammer to bed at night! I thought it was hilariously sweet.

*lol*

guess there might just be something to that!

Got to be. Without teaching them it, my girls always walk around with their winter stockings over their little heads, flinging the legs demonstratively over their shoulders, pretending it's their long hair . . . So, Stacey, are you in the new house now? The box nightmare over yet? What's it like?

Yes and almost yes and amazing. Beautiful hardwood floors is perfect original condition (previously covered in carpet for forty years). All window sills and moldings are left their natural shade as well. A 6 1/2 foot by 4 foot window in the front room. Coved ceilings, original fixtures, crome and while porcelin tile bath (with great water pressure!), crome and white and slate blue kitchen (big enough to tango, bunny hop and merengue in!), fabulous sycamore trees in the front, grand total of nine raspberry bushes in the back and side. Co ered patio/plant room. Sunny, bright, just really comfortable yet roomy feeling. The straight logistics are... 1400 finished sq feet upstairs, 1000 finished sq feet downstairs (basement), two car detached garage, two bath, four bedroom house. I ripped down the drape hanger thingamajigs last night and had to spackle and repaint the holes that were left but it looks MUCH better without those contraptions. I took the drapes down IMMEDIATELY. I hate drapes. They are the natural enemies of bright light in a home. The remind me of coldness, dark, melancholy... they do not belong. All is mostly unpacked and Brandon comes home tomorrow night, one hour after his brother arrives to be our first house guest! Most of my time is being spent in the gardens, planting, turning soil, weeding, making mud pies! I love to work/play in the flowers!

Yes and almost yes and amazing. Beautiful hardwood floors is perfect original condition (previously covered in carpet for forty years). All window sills and moldings are left their natural shade as well. A 6 1/2 foot by 4 foot window in the front room. Coved ceilings, original fixtures, crome and while porcelin tile bath (with great water pressure!), crome and white and slate blue kitchen (big enough to tango, bunny hop and merengue in!), fabulous sycamore trees in the front, grand total of nine raspberry bushes in the back and side. Co ered patio/plant room. Sunny, bright, just really comfortable yet roomy feeling. The straight logistics are... 1400 finished sq feet upstairs, 1000 finished sq feet downstairs (basement), two car detached garage, two bath, four bedroom house. I ripped down the drape hanger thingamajigs last night and had to spackle and repaint the holes that were left but it looks MUCH better without those contraptions. I took the drapes down IMMEDIATELY. I hate drapes. They are the natural enemies of bright light in a home. The remind me of coldness, dark, melancholy... they do not belong. All is mostly unpacked and Brandon comes home tomorrow night, one hour after his brother arrives to be our first house guest! Most of my time is being spent in the gardens, planting, turning soil, weeding, making mud pies! I love to work/play in the flowers! The garden would have to be one of my favorite places (at least third according to my 'travel' post! *smile*)

oops! I guess I pushed 'stop' a bit too late to halt the first response!

That does sound amazing. And I agree with your drape-horrification. I haven't a single drape in my place either. My mother out-law thinks I'm the ultimate un-wife for it, but she's as cold and dark and dreary as a drape anyway, so it merely proves my point. You have a nice garden too? That's the most amazing thing for me about living in a country where it rains - the gardens actually have flowers and trees in them!

got to share this... I have a student in my ESY class who is wheelchair bound, fed through a g-tube and has no muscular coordination whatsoever. SOMEtimes, I think I can get his eyes to follow me, but rarely. Well today we were all in a large group discussion, I always ask him questions with the other kids and include him in on our lessons because who really knows what is going on in that brain?!?! Well today, I asked if he was okay, "how ya doing H? You okay?" And he SAID, "ya." I was floored, the kids were floored. Was this just a coincidental non-verbal (merely vocal) utterance or had H responded to me? I said, "Hello there H!" He said, "HI." Plain as f-ing day! I lost it! Laughing and telling him he was a faker, and that we had all been snowed. His eyes rolled around and he got a big smile on his face! I'm just SO excited! He is so severely limited that to be able to communicate in even yes-no fashion is like a whole different world! *beaming*

Major beams there Stace, I can feel what you're feeling about this. Wow, what a breakthrough.

simply incredible (congrats)

still beaming... (thanks guys, somehow I think you really do know exactly how I feel about this!)

and nick... it's kinda like believing in the power of magic! *smile*

yep (good to hear you say so)

stacey that is amazing. see, he heard you the whole time! big hugs to you and mr H. mikeg: dude, *squeeze* hang in there. you know we're all cramming right along with you! so this is supposed to be, like, a diary. well, i've tried to keep journals but my life is so utterly boring that even i can't bring myself to write about it. (actually, not boring, but, not exciting) hi nick *smile*

hi *dumb grimace* (uh right... don't ask)

i'll ask......you not happy to see me? *wink*

no, that's not it (just my usual... you know, facial expression thing... how i meet the world, you know?)

careful cuz it can send the wrong message....so, how the heck have you been?

really well, all in all... um... actually, excellent... et tu?

not really, but thanks for asking. glad you're happy and not so bummed out anymore!

"bummed out"???? (ME?) why... i'm afraid i don't know what you mean... (must be all that sun)...

oh, was that what it was?

could be... or maybe your heads all clouded up from all those bedouin sheik fantasies you've likely brought back... (or shepherd fantasies... or uh something)...

let's just say fantasies (trust me, no shieks were involved)

will you be here tomorrow sometime? i'm sleepy, but would love to stay and chat. let me know....

so rudy valentino can exhale now?

who is rudy valentino? (and if you're referring, maybe, to the status of my, company, i have no visitors this evening)

*sigh* rudy valentino... you know, "the sheik"... silent pictures...

i knew you were going to say that, why, yes, as a matter of fact, he's in the other room, but he keeps having to pull out these cards with what he's thinking on them. hmm, not very romantic......

not to mention the band in the living room, and rudy's, uh, very pale. think i'll send him back.....

anyway, g'night....

my god... can you and- no! -be the same- (no- no, couldn't be)...

Stacey, the work you are doing is the kind of thing that makes a difference to this world and its people. I truly admire that. Not too much happening over here, but the sex is good, and we got the girls little baby guinea pigs - they're totally sweet! The still life is coming on great; my work is showing some clear signs of evolution, and I think it's a positive thing . . . if only it could turn into a reflection of the soul; I swear if my soul looked like my pictures I'd be a babe! But it isn't . . . seems I've scared poor Jim away altogether with my big mouth. Damn!

i'm sure that you have a beautiful soul, riette...too bad not very many people can see beyond what's on the surface. nick: what in the heck are you talking about? (sorry i left so abruptly, but my baby girl wouldn't leave the mama alone, supposedly she couldn't sleep cuz i was awake-the things they do to try and stay up)

fuckin' hell. do you reckon i can let it out here? i hate to swear. fuck fuck shit bollocks shit shit fuck. this post is a scroll-through for those of you who can't cope/don't care; don't feel bad, just press PgDn. stream of consciousness On. i'm a mess. an absolute mess. i sit in this room, and i wonder about what on earth is happening to me. where the hell am i going? why the hell am i so ugly? why doesn't anybody care? well, why should they bloody care? i'm jack shit to them. except i feel like i should be something. somebody. i feel as if i make an effort; that i'm worth at least a thought - hell, maybe even a phone call. alas, no. and the irony is that i haven't even got anyone to tell. the way i feel makes me so insecure that can't tell anyone how i feel to get some security back; some encouragement. bah. encouragement is bunk. a million people could tell me i was the greatest thing that ever fucking lived, but if i didn't get a single phone call it wouldn't mean anything. and so i'm here. an invisible person with the invisible people. as an invisible person whose only solidity is the words on the screen. yet they are only bits and bytes of data; electrical impulses in a cable; magnetic orientations on a platter. is this what i am reduced to? electricity and magnetism; always my least favourite subject in physics, as it happens. not that i want to belittle you all here. far from it. i received more support from the past postings that i've just read than from anywhere else. maybe the physial barrier of distance allows me to open up more than i would otherwise. haven't psychologists shown that? easier to be yourself in a letter, than a phone call or a f2f meeting; even easier, one would guess, to be one's self in a letter to people never met. so you're there, perhaps, reading this. probably wondering what the fuck is going o . and i'm getting fed up with making corrections in my typing. i can type at 148 words per minute, but i'm reduced to two-finger tappity-tap because i broke my finger. some things never change. the only things i can play on the guitar at the moment are minor chords and suspended chords. none of them record the happiest sound. that's probably not helping. music has always been the escape before. would it be this time? probably not, actually. I'd just sit around and play minor chords any way. I scored 44/100 on a depression test. 0 is perfectly normal, and i guess 100 is swinging from the rafters by your belt. it suggested that i go and see my doctor about it: "they can do great things with drugs these days". yeah, right. "You don't know me, Doc, but i've fucked up my life. Will you pump me full of Prozac, please?". the other score of the last fortnight was 147 on an IQ test. depressed brainy person; or, in the immortal words of my favourite comedian, "you fucked up ridiculum". Fucked up. Ridiculous. With a superb wardrobe, a natty hair-do, great shoes, broad shoulders, blonde hair. what the fuck is so wrong with me. i've even tried the "internal smiling" business, where it's not just a front, but i really do smile inside. i've even been deliriously happy. nothing works. i'm fundamentally unlovable, unlikeabl , un-look-at-able, and that last one's not even a word. if you've got this far without getting bored or dying of depression yourself, you're wondering what the fuck has caused all of this. well, your guess is as good as mine. being walked over, maybe. ignored, probably. uncherished? cherish is too strong a word. uncared about? care is too strong, again. un-give-a-fuck-about-ed? that's a bit closer to it. no-one gives a fuck. well, that's not true. the standard people give a fuck: parents, sister etc., but no-one who *mattters*. i know, i know, tha 's wrong; those people are the most important people to care, but that's not how it feels. Are they obliged to? Well, perhaps. A mother is perhaps obliged to love her child, but that's missing the point. the point being that i don't have to *earn* it with her. with other people i do have to earn it, and despite all my trying, i've fallen flat fuck on my face. some things are so fine. my exams went pretty well, my future is fairly sorted out whatever happens with my degree. in so many areas i have nothing to worry about. yet i don't have anyone to share that with. i bought a new computer game on saturday (it was that or more wardrobe-stuff, and i decided i didn't need *more* clothes), and it's really cool. really really cool. but i haven't told anyone about it, because there's no-one to tell. it just stays inside me, along with everything else, bubbling p and boiling and going nowhere. it won't even explode. i seem to be emotionless, apart from this incredible emptiness. it's like when you're staring death in the face and all panic leaves you; or when the body gets so hypothermic that it stops shivering. :i'm sure that you have a beautiful soul, riette...too bad not very many people :can see beyond what's on the surface. oh fuck, too right, Wolf. do i have a beautiful soul? bah. unanswerable question, and i've got enough of those as it is. am i looking for affirmation? no, not really, i guess. like i already wrote, there's affirmation and there's affirmation. the only affirmation that will mean anything is if the phone rings and one of the four thousand women who i am perfectly in love with decide that i'm great. or at least not shit. and yet i'm so ungrateful. my housemate phones me up when he's at home. he care . he phoned tonight. ungrateful bastard that i am. but i guess that's because i don't *really* matter. there are far more important people/things for him. not that i resent being x+1 on his list, because i don't. but i'm no-one's "Significant Other"; in any sense of the phrase. i just ain't. i'm like a business that's going down the tubes. a "negative spiral", or whatever. i'm caught up in a nostalgia-circle, churning up the same old shit in my brain, and all the new investors are getting cold feet and putting their capital elsewhere. unless there's some major fucking turn-around, the only way out is to be "liquidated" and re-established; either that or liquidated and chucked on the scrap heap. fuck, what a mess i am. what a mess.

so that's what's got you down? you're right. you don't mean anything to me because I don't even know who the hell you are. but if you think for one minute that you're ugly, unloveable, and all that, well, maybe you are. but to me, and this won't mean anything to you, i think you are the opposite of all that. you have a beautiful soul too, so don't be afraid to let it out. and don't let anyone else be the designer of who you are, don't let them influence you. if they can't handle you because of who ou are, you don't need them. and i know how lonely that feels, i'm sometimes afraid to be who i really am. and none of this will help because am i in your shoes? no. but thanks for feeling safe to let all this out here to us strangers. *hug*

hey mike... really sorry to hear you feeling like this... you're a decent guy... just need to find some perspective, maybe... and- well, it's like... i dunno, a lot of the things you've written before had some effect on me... really admired the way you've stood up for what you believed in (i often don't have that kind of courage)... i'm a christian, too... and find it hard sometimes defending my faith, among those that question it... makes me feel bad, sometimes... remember a scripture where jesus said something like 'how can you expect me to intercede for you with god when you don't stand up for me among men?' not a pleasing question for me to answer, but one you certainly won't face... anyway, faith's the thing (maybe the only thing) that can get you through these kind of feelings.. pulling for you, you know?

Mike, I'm a smart girl. I know the difference between real threats and the monsters in my head. But one day the monsters in my head came out and started line-dancing before my very eyes. I was involved in a relationship that meant a lot to me, perhaps too much. I spent all my time giving to this 'entity' and another person that when something went wrong in that department, I had nothing else to define me but a dying relationship and a everdistancing best friend. I desperately wanted to matter to someone, I desperately wanted to have that beautiful opinion of myself that everyone else seemed to have of me. Mike, I did a lot of... searching I suppose is what it was. I rode my bike, ran, cried, wrote. I sat blankly in front of reality if I needed to, but never without many strangers surrounding me. I talked alot. I talked to strangers (face to face even!), I talked to myself, I talked to the birds and squirrels I saw along the trail. I am not unfamiliar with depression, my father was clinically depressed and on medication for 10 years... when it was NOT a socially acceptable disease. My baby brother became suicidal at age 15... We all get down from time to time, this sounds more severe. Because I was aware how far depression can drag someone below the surface of reality, I never let myself get that far. I called a shrink. I took myself to the shrink. I talked her ear off. I wished all the while that I could depend on a friend to vent my 'troubles' to but I knew that I was beyond that and was only bringing them down. My therapist never got a chance to psychoanalyze me... well not a chance to share the results anyway... she asked me to write a one page essay on who I was. I brought in the most contradictary prose I had ever written, every last word of it true... suddenly I began to see the complexity of my own soul, appreciate it's worth and desire to see the light at the end of the tunnel again. When you love so deeply, completely and passionately, it is very easy to become overwhelmed by your emotions. This is often a good thing. But... when you put your self worth in the hands of others, when you make your worth dependent on the reactions of others... you are bound to get crushed, dropped and/or mistreated. Put your love where it wants to be and let it free, allow the love and capacity for such to define who you are... not anyone's reaction to it. Mike, you are hurt and you are worth fixing... please help to fix yourself because no else is or even can do it. Much affection and good vibes coming your way!

brava

as much as I forget it, and at times can't even admit it, what Stacey said is right...

another thought: you might want to try doing nothing and just being, 'cause you are thinking too much (Stacey can probably explain this better than I, too)

an influential friend once said that: "You know your problem, Mike? You think too much." Thank you all for what you have written. i have started to realise that i am fucked up, real bad. gonna go out and find someone to help deal with it tomorrow. for now i'm just going to try and cry my eyes out, and my heart out. maybe thast will help

'tis a good thing to get help, Mike, otherwise you might end up as screwed up as I am, and that's really scary...

i agree with wer/stacey/nick...once, my therapist said what are you? a human doing or a human being....i have clung to that...don't wait until tomorrow, my friend, call someone today....we are here for you and listen, we've got similar stories to tell, sweetie, big hugs, oh, and a peck on the cheek, k? no teeth!

no teeth? :-) i would call someone now, but it's 1.15 am (and not 2036)

what? there's no one on call 24/7? (don't we look pretty good to be in the year 2036?)

i could phone up nightline at the university, but they'd probably fob me off with a packet of condoms, a dental dam and a latex glove.

there's that humor! you guys don't have a crisis line or something? what about your mom? (i won't be offended if you say heck no, i tried talking to mine, but since then, we haven't spoken for several years)

i am afraid.

of?

i am afraid.

ok. do you want to talk about it?

i am afraid.

Mike?

bloody hell. netscape is going crazy. i am afraid of admitting that i have a problem. problems. i'm looking at the samaritan's web site, and all i have to do is lift the phone and dial the number, but....how the hell will i do that?

pick it up, dial the number. you have already admitted it and to the person who matters the most. you, my dear.

i look like mr melodrama after those two extra "i'm afraid"'s :-)) plonker.

no, figured there was a gliche in the system. did you call?

the problem is, i'd feel nervous picking up the phone to dial for a pizza, let alone admitting that i'm barking mad.

that's alright. i get nervous dialing for a pizza too, like what, they're gonna ask me something really hard-what's the square root of the cosine to a trillion and seventy-five. you have thirty seconds to answer.

and i hate the phone. it's the most artificial of all media.

and this isn't? *grin* no faces...just a screen, with, hopefully, someone half-way intelligent on the other end...

i just hate the phone. it's an irrational fear. which is probably caught up in all this other crap which is packing me off to the funny farm.

now, stop that. it's not irrational and i don't think it means you're nuts. irrationality is something applied when viewed by someone else. you're the one who feels it so isn't it valid?

good point. i've decided to try their e-mail address, but putting down why i'm a banana-plantation doesn't seem to be easy.

no it's never easy. but it gets easier. (and i'm glad you're gonna try)

good point. i've decided to try their e-mail address, but putting down why i'm a banana-plantation doesn't seem to be easy.

i had no idea this would be so difficult. maybe i should just send them my stream of consciousness from before.

just tell them stuff you've told us. perhaps they can refer you to someone local....

and i'm proud of you for trying, and admitting, you are very brave, you know that?

Hey Mike... *laughing* I've got to admit it... with the sequential "I am afraid" posts... I was becoming... well... afraid myself! I picked up the phone today (overcoming a considerable amount of nervousness...) and called Brandon's estranged half sister (also named Stacey). I am tired of hearing how he would like to get in touch with her, have a relationship with her, blah, blah, blah... but he never picks up the phone, sends an email or a card. I know it is none of my business but, in all honesty, I was hoping that turn about would continue to be fair play and someone would do the same to my baby brother who I have VERY little contact with. We had a nice (superficial and short) chat. I am sending her a packet of pictures and every fathomable way to contact us... I hope something good comes of all this. Sending more hugs and good vibes your way Mike!

that was really, like, bold, Stacey...are you sure he's ready? i'm estranged from my parents and my husband has a wonderful relationship with them. it makes me mad because i feel betrayed (yes, that's selfish of me, but...)

i worry a tad about his reaction but... the estrangement comes from his NON-relationship with his mother... NOT from any bad mojo between the two siblings. Now that his sister is away from his biological mother... MUCH less stress. He needs prompting, always has. This is the same way he become reconnected with his grandfather... yes, I am a meddler... with the best of intentions.

nothing wrong with that, really...my estrangement comes from long ago stuff that i went to therapy for and was able to face. Mr Wolf just doesn't understand how it makes me feel for him to call and chat. And he won't even talk to his own dad. (ok, he hasn't talked to my parents in a while)

oh.. to be like a cat. Tahja is stalking and chasing a piglet Beanie Baby around the basement with a crumpled up piece of newspaper covering her head and half her body. She is having a fabulous time, mewling and purring and running into things! (this is taking me forever to type because I keep stopping to watch, laugh and tease!) I suppose an instance like this it what gives cats a reputation for being theraputic!

So are the little guinea-pigs. They're just so incredibly sweet - I can't stop cuddling them. It's been years since I had pets, and I only realize now how much I've missed it.

package that cut up and send it over here :-) if there's one thing i can't resist, it's a kitty. no therapy for me. i decided that it was probably a fiscal mistake to pay 40 pounds an hour for someone to tell me i'm a fruit - I already know that. i sent a stupid letter to someone, which should have arrived today. fill that empty space with stuff that's guaranteed to hurt. well, when you're down you might as well make sure someone's kickin' ya. (i'm having thoughts and just typing them, again) if i stopped being the bread-basket that I am, I'd stop being me. or i'd change into a new me. is that appealing? partly, i guess. maybe it would be a better me. dunno if i can answer that question. i find it a strange idea to think that the way i feel inside could change. i've felt the way i do for *so* long...like, forever, i guess, so the question of whether change is appealing is moot: it's incomprehensible, and improbable. i've now eaten a proper meal for the last four nights in a row, which is a record for the last month probably. i might be depressed, but i can't be that bad. but i am. or was. last night must have been a bit of a watershed or something; not the lowest i'll go, i doubt. DIFFERENT THERAPY TECHNIQUE. ALL CAPS. no, that didn't work. all lower case is nice - makes me feel very discreet; like one of those pocket vibrators disguised as a lipstick. why the hell do people carry those anyway? quick one in the toilet, between acts at the opera? that's like no woman i've ever met. what the hell are these things marketed for? have they ever sold one? barkin'. maybe i could consult for them. i had coffee today. and then a nice caffeine rush which made my head spin like crazy. it's definitely caffeine that's causing those, which is a relief. thirty seconds into my first exam last month, and the room decided to spin like mad; i thought, "here we go". i have been experimenting with the chords that i can play. i have managed to find something vaguely hapy, or at least intriguing, which makes me happy. i'm going to see a posh doctor tomorrow; hopefully as we're throwing him a fortune, he won't grin at me nicely and tell me to get on with leaving it to heal. don't they realise how *important* my hands are to me?? alien therapy has been one that i've neglected. gotta go squeeze mergle so that he lighs up and talks; always makes me grin. cue mergle: The claw is my MASTER i have been CHOSEN! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO................. neat. ramble ramble ramble. this is good therapy, actually. like writing in my diary, but without the headfuck of no-one ever reading that. last night was the first time i'd ever shared those feelings. with anyone. which is fairly big for me, seeing as i've still got diaries from like four or five years ago, and can remember what happened on particular days, in ridiculous detail. i dobut i'll remember much of last night's, though; it was like a temporary insanity. insanity is too strong a word. madness? well, i'm barkin' anyway, so that doesn't count. i was wired to the moon. that's a good description. if my fingers had been working it probably would have lasted forever. writing without thought. except it's like thinking. it's thinking without the thought process interrupting, trying to compartmentalise things, to rationalise, to paragraph them, even. just hit the return key when you feel the need. i cut my nails today, which made me feel loads better. yes, yes, i know i'm bonkers. interesting fact: the nails on the hand with the broken finger were significantly shorter than those on the other hand. inriguing. i'm sure there's some dry, biological, scientific explanation for it. hell, i probably know it. but there's something nice in not thinking and just going "hey, that's cool.". return key again. i didn't even think about it that time. didn't even occur to me. natural reaction. maybe it was the speech marks. i'd better get these fingers healed soon, because this typing is driving me round the twist. i fancy more coffee. but it'll keep me up late. yay! i get to go on the express train to london, tomorrow, which is always fun. probably best not to have a gin and tonic before i go to the clinic, though, even if they are just checking my hands. best to stick with a soft dr nk. i love it. this train of thought business is so relaxing. i'm just here, rambling, talking crap. it's great. i'm sure it pisses you all off. maybe i need my own topic? how about my own conference, to which i invite no-one but myself. hehehe :) great. time to press the "Submit response" button.

bark all you want (and keep wired to the moon)... (and when you figure out those pocket vibrators let me know okay?) think you're gonna be alright... (and... anyway... like emily said- "much madness is divinest sense"... hell, that's my credo)

hmmm, a pocket vibrator, huh? know anywhere i could get one of those? *wink* don't worry about rambling, heck, i do it all the time (not that that makes you feel any better). besides, that's when the best ideas come to light, you know, free of the conventionalism of order and junk. glad to see you back *hug* nick: hi, sorry for running off (again)

can't figure out why anyone wants their pocket to vibrate...