This is supposed to be a mark on the wall to note a progression. At least that is what these "journals" or logs are supposed to commemorate. You re-read them in a moment of self indulgence and then you are supposed to look whimsically back upon the life lessons that you've learned from that point in your life.

But I guess I missed that day in school. I never was good at my lessons.

I'm exactly where I was about 8 years ago. But without the benefit of 100 miles distance and a couple of dollars in my pocket. 8 years ago was shite. and I thought that I would never have to live through something like that again. now granted this is not exactly like what happened then, but its still is not great. I'm not thinking clearly, (although I suppose that I never did) and I continue to have delusions of some victorian ideal... some silly made up story in my head that I'm desperately trying to convince myself is real. Good lord I'm so lame.

I've been avoiding what needs to be done. Procrastination is so easy that before you know it a whole day has slipped away. Since feburary my life has been in a holding pattern. I've had really no other alternative. I was afraid that this would happen to me, as it was exactly what happened to me the last time that I injured myself.

you forget how much you value independence until you can no longer savor it
Then again, this was a real test, last time, to see who were the people in my life that I could depend upon. Unfortunately it wasn't who I'd hoped it would be, infact they were the ones that had let me down the most. (this was back in 1996) It was the strange feeling that I had been ripped from a life that I had only begun to formulate as an individual. This time it wasn't the same, but I was still incredibly fearful that I might be "end" of some very dear relationships. And the fact that it was in reality an ending of some sort. I had been 'fired'; I had no money; One of my dearest friends was leaving the country...potentially never to return. I think that most people with just these items alone would have been slobbering fools...add to that a massive injury that makes it near impossible for you to me mobile without narcotics that impair your senses and the assistance of another? A lesser woman would have cracked under the stress.

Not that I'm trying to toot my own horn, (actually I'm just trying to talk my way to a solution) but I think that I've managed to turn out alright from this one. Not so much as if I were staring from the bottom of a 8' deep ditch, but more like I have fallen in the dirt and I'm ready to dust myself off and clean up the wounds and keep going. Its still difficult to get my bearings. So much has changed in just the 5 months since all of these horrors have happened. (Christ, it has been 5 months now hasn't it.) And from my perspective life has sped up around me. I know that it's going to take some time to adjust, not much hopefully, but I've been good at faking the dance steps. (good god talk about baddly mixed metaphors.)

- so here's hoping that the procrastination will begin to fall by the wayside. I should make a list:
1. pick up the freaking guitar and start learning your chords and chord progressions
2. get a guitar teacher.
3. go to the goddamned gym at least 2x's a week...fat ass
4. eat less, you fat fuck...(I'm talking to myself now...its a sure sign of madness I know it.)
5. actually study for the goddamned GRE.
6. apply your mind in a noble persuit that does not directly benefit you. (on my way to saint hood!)
7. don't look at so much porn online.

- that's looking like a good starting point. since it was all off the cuff anyway.

I've been looking for this for about 5 years now. I've finally found it again, and I hope to keep it near me so that I can always be reminded of it. I wanted to share this with you as it is one of the most moving things I've ever read. This is taken from a speech that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave on April 4th 1967, exactly a year before his assassination. The speech was entitled "Beyond Vietnam", but its basic premise was more to do with the changing face of history and our part in its formation.

We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history, there is such a thing as being too late. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us bare, naked and dejected with a lost opportunity. The tide in the affairs of men does not flow, it ebbs.

We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is deaf to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residue of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words... "Too Late."