Fuck! My bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream just bit me!

Gotta have more babies, gotta have more babies, yeah.

The decay in my mind is clearing up!

Why should they? Why should they come? They need not come. If they come, they will leave. If they leave, they won't return. They shouldn't come only to leave, but surely they can't stay. If they can't stay, why should they bother coming? There must be a way to make them return. Variety, variety, consistency.

Hey, the next time you're tempted to do it, think really carefully about what you stand to LOSE if you did it.

Uh, something happened to me.

Remember the strength we had
When we were in love?
I think I can
Find that strength again.

You know what the tragic truth is? To this day I hunger for my father's approval. What more can a son want from his father, after all? To this very day I still have the bad dreams, dreams of my father, or almost-father, disapproving of me, or disappointed in me, or disagreeing with me. I have these dreams every single night. I cry in my dreams. I am a little child longing for his father's love. He never gives it. I know this. No matter what I do, it won't be enough. It was never enough, you see. The truth, the truth, the truth is he can only see his little baby boy when he looks at me, even in those rare moments when he believed he was proud of his son. He has no idea who I have become. His perception of me is stuck in limbo, so he will never be able to love me as I am now. When he looks at me that way, like I was his little boy instead of the man I believe I have become, I want to scream and scream and scream.

The other thing: I love my sister, but I guess I don't love her enough to disagree with her when I feel I should. I can't deal with the conflict. Why should I be the one to tell her off? I can't do it, so my silence has alienated her beyond any hope of repair. This thing, and the thing with my father, threatens to devour my soul, but only in my subconscious, surfacing in dreams. I want the dreams to stop, but I know they won't. Not while my heart still hungers for his approval, no matter how much I try to convince myself that he is unimportant to me now.

I'm drunk. I should not blog while I'm drunk. I want to stop having these dreams, because I know that unless they stop coming to me, I'd never be able to truly live for myself, live for my own growing family, live to do what I know in my heart I must do: earn a living writing fiction. I wish to amputate this longing inside me; I want it completely destroyed, thrown into a fire. I know the only way to free myself is to prove myself, become so good at what I do that I am impossible to ignore. But I am afraid. I'm not sure I can do it.

You cannot precisely measure the most essential properties of subatomic behavior. According to Werner Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, the more precisely you measure one property, the less precisely you can measure another.

To clarify, you can only observe the position of an electron by bouncing something off it (light is a common example). This means that you need to introduce some form of radiation that has energy of its own. The problem is, this energy will disturb the path of the electron. In other words, more energy must be added in order to determine the position of an electron more precisely, and the more energy is added to the electron, the more you will disturb its velocity.

So conversely, you must minimize the electron's exposure to radiation in order to measure its velocity more precisely, but the absence of sufficient radiation (light is again a good example) will make it impossible to precisely determine its position. Hence, the more precisely you measure one property, the less precisely you can measure another.

The above applies to the universe on a subatomic level. It should not be confused with the Observer Effect.

I'm feeling pissed off today. If you refuse to deal directly with me, then why should I deal directly with you? Okay, I'll let it go. Again. I feel sorry for you.

The Secret to Developing Efficiency:
Avoid the Strong and attack the Weak.

The Secret to Developing Strength:
Attack the Strong and Protect the Weak.

It's been a while since I last cried. Who really keeps track of these things? Is it healthy to not feel the urge to cry for so long? Used to be I couldn't even look at the clouds in the sky or listen to swelling orchestral music without stifling a pathetic little sob in my chest.

Yeah, maybe I was a real gaylord before. I don't know if I like this new development or not. Have I not had a good cry these past few weeks because I've been happy all this while or am I just hiding or not acknowledging some emotional bear trap in my subconscious, which is just waiting for the right moment to spring and break my bones? Is it only a matter of time before I'll be forced to confront some lurking monster hiding beneath the calm surface of my psyche like some overgrown toad in murky pond water? Does anyone even care, including myself?

The trick to staying sane is to avoid asking yourself questions like these, so I'll quit thinking about them now. You've just participated in a very rare, deeply personal (though fleeting) moment here, folks. It probably won't be happening again anytime soon.

So soak it up, you lucky dogs, you.

You're never satisfied. I hate working for you.

Reboot

Okay, it has been more than four years and now I am almost fully disengaged. It was a long and painful process but I think I appreciated the painful parts more than the periods of silent indifference and general unfeeling. It was the general-ness of being there that almost killed me, the lack of any sincere emotion or genuine motivation. I was tied up inside, slowly bleeding to death. The heat of the water was being turned up little by little so that the death that awaited me seemed like a subtle and gentle haziness, like a lazy Sunday afternoon as Paulo Coelho once eloquently put it.

Yes, I'm being infuriatingly cryptic, as usual. It's kind of my style. I have not flexed my muscles of expression for a very long time, and I think I've said this too often without having done anything about it. Hey, now's my chance to actually do something.

Memory is actually very important to me. To my relationships. Yes, it is. But now my memory is shot. Lack of sleep and a lifestyle of self-abuse are mostly to blame. It will take some time to recover, but for now I've got to just focus my thoughts and nurture them back to life again.

My writing has become very general and non-specific(?), especially when I have to write about my personal life, but I hope I can get down and pen something beautiful again. Was it ever beautiful? I have to believe it now. I have to be stubborn in the face of any negativity that has infected my spirit while I was away. I need to at least believe before I can try again. I hope it only has to be a temporary delusion.

It's like running again after a half-year hiatus. The legs don't feel like they belong to you; they can't be the same legs that carried you over all those great distances with such energy and confidence. They're wobbly and unsure, like a baby's. My fingers on my keyboard feel the same way now. It's best not to dwell on that, though. Just do it, just do it!

I'm excited about life. I'm excited about the home we're creating together, woven out of our days spent working together and experiencing the world together. I'm excited about our future encounters with each other and the synergy that will flow through our interactions. This is it. This is the time to do what you always knew you were meant to do. I wish I had some kind of warcry! I want to start attacking my days on earth! I want to start living again! I want to take it, seize it, devour all my future days and nights! Let me leap out of bed! Let me rush through the daily rituals! Let me be restless and strong and GET DOWN TO WORK!

It's all going to end sooner or later, so you might as well blame me for it.