2003-02-07 - 4:43 a.m.

Ok, I feel like I've reached a limit. I can no longer contain all the thoughts that I'm thinking and I just have to write some of them down, even if it is half past two in the morning.

Sux, cause I really wish I could sleep, but such is life. I passed out cold around 7pm (sore throat today and not enough sleep the night before) and then woke up around 10pm cause my mom was talking on the portable phone outside my room. Not her fault :) it was quite early in the night. I couldn't get back to sleep cause of my throat, and then dad got hom soon after and started exercising, then watching tv.

Again, I'm utterly glad that I have my guitar. (ps there! I used a better phrase than "thank god" :) I really need to eliminate some mannerisms of my speech...) Life is so much better for the simple fact that when things get tough and I get into a situation where in the past I would lay awake writhing and steaming in my head, I now have a better course of action available to me. I take my guitar out of its case, sit up in bed with the blankets around me, and just let myself learn to express my feelings through music.

It isn't hard. I was so surprised to learn how easy it is. It's not technically difficult anyway... It's more about being in touch with your feelings and being honest with yourself, and also allowing yourself to be weak and knowing that's ok, because if you have a positive self-image flow then you will grow strong.

ooh.. my thoughts are hopping around... Sometimes we either forget or don't realize or choose to ignore the fact that we are weak, and so we lose our starting point. We assume we are already good enough and don't need to change, so we end up with gaping holes in our lives that we aren't doing anything about.

That's it.. now I'm remembering the line of thought I was on when I decided I had to get up and write.

I was thinking about my family and how seeing their problems helps me to see my own. Especially because I am so much like them :) It was when I meditated about why my dad spends so much time away from the family that I got onto the line of thinking about ignoring yourself.

I feel like he is an angry person because he doesn't like himself. I feel like he is too critical of people, and therefore too critical of himself. And since I am so much like him, then by extension I have the same problem.

One of the big problems in my relationship with Michelle is that I was too critical. I really love her and wanted to be supportive in every possible way, but by nature I criticized her for every little thing she did wrong. I would walk into the room and pick out something wrong and harp on it, thinking somehow that I was trying to make things better.

It's amazing how revealing it can be to be outside of the head that is thinking along those lines, and see situations unfold because of that reasoning. Yesterday, (or was it the day before? darnation keeping track of time is hard when your life is changing so abruptly...) anyway, a little while ago, I was playing rummoli with my brother and sister (5 and 8, if you aren't familiar) and my dad walked into the room.

He started watching us play, and the first words out of his mouth were criticisms about how my brother was playing. He wasn't allowed to take his tiles and put them face down in a "garbage pile" next to him. He wasn't allowed to show other people his pieces or offer them in trade. He wasn't allowed to put the joker with one set of tiles because there was a better arrangement. It sounded like "you can't..." and "don't do..." and "why are you..?" etc.

I didn't like it. I felt that my dad was interrupting our game, and that he was making it less fun. I felt like we were having a good time and then in came his stern voice making us do things his way without explanation or a reason, really. I mean, technically, there are rules to a game that have to be followed, but the people playing the game are usually the ones that decide the rules, and the primary purpose of playing a game is to have fun, not to learn how to play the game.

So when I went out for dinner with Niki that night, I related the story. I did that because I felt very stressed out by my dad's actions. Tonight I think I realized why.. because I acted in exactly the same way with the little family that I lost.

Ouch.

See? There is a definite, definable problem here. I get stressed and upset by someone acting in a certain way, and yet I am guilty of acting that way myself. Therefore, I give myself stress.

Tonight I realized that my dad is the same. He doesn't even have to realize that he doesn't like himself to get the stress, either. I didn't rightly know how I was acting before, or else I wouldn't have done it. Understanding what's going on is a matter of perspective in this case. If I had understood what I was doing, I wouldn't have done it, but I didn't understand so I acted in a bad way.

Even though I didn't realize how badly I was acting at the time, obviously I still got stressed from acting that way. Why? Well, you don't have to know why you make someone upset to realize they are upset. Obviously, when dad came home, the faces fell. I am talking about when I came home to the apartment in Thunder Bay. You may not be consciously aware of things like that at all times, but you know if you upset people and the fact lodges in your head. After a while of having these facts lodge in there, it starts to get kind of full, especially if you don't purge them.

So how did I purge them? Or did I? I think I did some purging, but not enough. I lacked self-examination. That was because I was high all the time. As in high on pot.

XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX

Hmm.. I can't write that.

I forget, this is a public diary. I can't say certain facts about other people, because I don't have their permission to do so. I can write anything I damn well like about myself. I've certainly incriminated myself enough in this diary that if in the future anyone needs to prove I'm a bad person, they could take evidence from this diary (out of context, though, I think) and make me sound awful.

I'm really not. At least, I feel like it would be far worse if I didn't try to talk about my problems. If I didn't hash it out in the best way I know.

Hmm.. wow, now I'm getting extremely introspective.

One day, I recorded my voice with the intention of making it an audio diary entry. However, when the mic went live, I suddenly had the impression of being in front of a vast faceless audience.

I just got that feeling now.

When I recorded myself, I was definitely influenced by the feeling that people were listening; that what I said was somehow "on the record" and that I had to be careful to make a good impression. To put it more precisely, I felt accountable for my words, since I could be judged by them.

That is how I feel now, that I can be judged by these words that I write. That someone can (and will.. and is?) form(ing) an opinion of me.

I realized that when I wrote "hash it out in the best way I know." I feel that what I say in here is a part of me that I accept. It's something I could say right to a stranger's face, like "I smoke pot." That is powerful, and very therapeutic.

When I opened my mouth in a room full of strangers and said "I hit my fiancee", that was therapeutic. That was me saying "I did something bad, and I know it, and most importantly I want to change. I want to accept what I did and deal with it." Saying it to yourself does diddly squat, saying it to other people means you are accountable for it.

I just had another thought. I went to one of those Journal-con thingies (I think that's what it's called) that weetabix went to, then this is the entry I would read as my favourite entry. Or my chosen entry, or whatever.

Heh. I would get to say odd disturbing things like "I'm reading this right now".. Oooooh. I'm on stage. Or whatever.. is there a stage? Isn't it weird hearing about what is happening right now even though it was written a long time ago? Huh.. doesn't that freak you out? Would you like a mutant alio-sexual sandwich with that?

I feel like I'm 14 again. I used to always be like this. I used to make all my friends laugh when we went out for coffee because "my ass can fit in any sentence". Did you know that, my ass? It can, my ass. My ass can fit in a sentence on any subject, at any time. There is nothing that cannot be spoken of in a sentence without me including my ass.

Lol! What the heck am I going to do with myself?

I could change the world in so many ways.. which one do I pick? I could be a musician.. I surprised myself again tonight for the umpteenth time because the vibrations coming out of my guitar were very pleasant and had never been heard in exactly that way on this earth before. (probably. Unless a million monkeys were given a million guitars by the Aztecs and locked in a room with a bunch of bananas, and the monkeys strummed the guitars with the bananas, playing random notes, and the bananas got all mushy until the guitars were full of bananas inside and it smelled like my ass. ROFLMAO!

Sigh. That was fun, wasn't it, my ass? Wait! I am undone! (Wait, my ass! My ass, I fear I am undone!) "My ass" cannot fit in the sentence -Sigh.-. As in, "Sigh.". What would it be, Sigh, my ass? That's more properly written as: "Fart, my ass". Or maybe "Fart gently, my ass" because sighs usually don't rattle your lips.

Ok, I'm even grossing myself out now, with my ass. That's enough out of my ass. Sigh. There, my ass. The magic sentence! The sentence that cannot be broached by the great ass of Carl, that very same ass that heretofore it had been theorized could fit into any sentence.

Ok, how long am I going to keep this up? A small part of me is laughing inside, but I'm 27, so the situation is starting to look pretty grim. There is a big crowd of small parts of me getting increasingly more bored and resentful of the one small part of me that is still laughing. Go away. Go sit in the corner. Dunce. The ass thing isn't funny any more.

That's what happens when it's 3am.

KLF! Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh!

So yeah, I could be a musician, couldn't I, my ass? [THUD]

Yes, I could. Or I could be a poet.. "The heavy bottle lies still. I will drink her baby". Or I could be some weirdo who writes in diaries that a million people read and I could syndicate it for publication in the newspaper so tired old farts in retirement homes (pardon, "homes where families send their parents to die because they don't like having them around any more") who don't know what the Hunternet is (.. what's that? Inderjet? Printernet? Damn kids...) could read the likes of Uncle Bob and salivate over the thought of the pool goddess visiting them in a dream, because of course that's the most valuable output that man has ever produced. No, wait.. standing in line at Circuit City.. no, wait, throwing an incorrectly made burger out the window of a minivan while travelling down the expressway.. no, wait, it's coming.. I got it.. yeah! "you not cook enough food bitch." ! Yeah! That's it :) As if it's possible to pin that particular tail on that particular donkey. Instead, you end up with hundreds of tails pinned in the near vicinity of a wide ass, and everyone gets the idea, and the long run-on paragraph ends abrup

Lol I haven't had this much fun in a while. Tonight I had breakthrough thoughts in so many facets of my life... how to describe why it's natural for life to form without a "great intelligence" doing the organization, why certain elements have a lower boiling point, how to explain brownian motion to a child using the example of one of those wacked-out hamster balls that have motors in them, how to finish off the bar of that song that starts with a low C chord, then goes to E minor, then has that funky riff with the hammer-ons, why I am so much like my dad, and why we are both so stressy and bitchy towards other people.

There's more.. I was serious about "reaching the limit". I can only conceive of so many of what I consider 'breakthrough' ideas before I am forced by my .. (huh.. I don't know.. ) to start writing stuff down so it doesn't get forgotten forever.

Because that happens sometimes.

And it sucks.

There was a day.. a night actually, where I walked home from the bar in downtown Toronto. Sounds normal, except that the bar was right downtown near University station and "home" was at Warden and Steeles. (yep, that's right.. checked mapquest. It was a while ago already). Anyway, so yeah, I walked 5 1/2 hours straight to get home, and I was barely sober when I got there.. but anyway the point I had was that while I was staggering up Yonge street at 2am (with like $140 in cash cause I had gone to the ATM with the intention of coming back and buying rounds but the bouncers wouldn't let me in) ..

ok.. I need to clarify.

I am walking home. I am going north on Yonge street. It is 2am. It is raining. I am very depressed because I'm in deep distressful love with a girl name Pam. I'm crying. I am wearing my "mossy boy" sweater.

Suddenly, there on the ground in front of me, is a red rose. I bend down, pick it up, stare at it through the tears/rain and think that it's lucky I didn't miss it. It would have been a shame to let such a wonderful flower lie on the sidewalk. I tuck its stem into the front pocket of my mossy boy sweater.

The rose makes me think of giving Pam roses. It puts me in a very morose, yet eerily happy mood. I am wistful. I get that feeling inside where I have my emotions clearly visible, and a glistening vocabulary of not just words, but of syllables, phrases, consonnant and dissonnant pairs of words, etc. I begin to recite poetry. The most beautiful poetry that has ever escaped my body, I'm sure. I don't mean that jokingly.. I might have been drunk, but I knew the quality of the words and sentences coming from my mouth was far above that of my usual output.

It went on for some time. It was beautiful, captured my mood perfectly. Would have melted Pam's heart if she could have heard. It warms me now to think that she knows the gist of what I said even if she didn't hear the words, because some feelings are constant. Anyway, it was an experience I'll never forget till the day I die. That instant possesses in my mind the same clarity with which I can recall any number of a vast array of similar moving times. I once mentioned in here that I could write hundreds of thousands of words and still not stratch the surface of only a handful of my memories. I can't even begin to comprehend how many of those memories I have. Just thinking about it is an endless journey.

Oh yes, the point. The point is, those words are lost forever. I believe because I was not recording my thoughts that I was able to use more of my mental power to compose and recite. Speaking out loud moved me, and the increase in my emotions made me feel more keenly, which made the poetry more accurate and succinct. If I had had a microphone recording me, all would have been well, but I have no recollection of a single word I said. That poetry is lost forever.

Ok, that point went on for a long time. But that is the way I think. The least thought extends sideways and forwards and backwards and up and down, in all six degrees, and I could speak and write and relate and explain on and on and on. I usually cut everything off extremely short for the purpose of simplifying in order to ensure proper communication.

So anyway, it was something I feel very strongly about, this sense of hating to lose what I create. In a sense, I am what I create. The same way I have a spirit within me that represents all the actions that I am capable of and that I carry out, I leave behind a trail of actions which defines me. I create organization (or disorganization), beauty (or pain), but all these creations are transient. Even the stuff I record is only temporarily recorded. There is no such thing as permanence in this world. But still, I want to record as much of myself as possible, and as permanently as possible.

An example is that I recorded myself (and hope to do more of this..) fooling around on my guitar.

Why is it that we only hear our musician's best works? Most of the time, unfortunately, we don't even hear their best work, but a collage of bits of their absolute best playing, put together to become something that in a way their are incapable of playing? Granted, because we can, we should, but why is it almost exclusively that which we are offered?

Why can't I hear Elton John playing the piano for the 14th time, learning how to go from a C chord to an E minor? Hearing him stumble across the keys, but then getting more sure.. finding a rhythm. Why can't I hear Clapton learning how to do a run with hammer ons?

I would gain so much from experiencing these great searchings, these great learnings, these moments in which our best brains were actively performing what they do best.. learning.

I want to be that intimate with my audience, with you. I want to show you my beginnings and not just my endings. I want to show you my scraps, my margin scribbles, my crossed out words.

Granted, I'm not much of an artist, yet. But still, I want to record and record and record so that I am as accessible to others as possible.

Phew.

"Quarter to four" reads my innovative Linux clock.

Oh yeah! There's another thought. Why the hell aren't car companies innovating? Why are gas and brake pedals so uncomfortable? Isn't this the 21st century? I would like to the brake pedal more to the left so that I can keep my foot hovering over it in case it's needed without squishing my testicles. My testes hurt from being squeezed because when I get onto crowded streets or into a situation where I believe I might need to have maximum control of my car, I raise my left foot and prepare for braking. It's not my fault the stupid car is designed so that the brakes aren't instantly accessible to me from a resting position. It's also not my fault that I haven't fixed it myself, because I can't. The pedal isn't that adjustable, and I have no avenue to suggest this change to any car companies.

Why the heck don't I get people calling me saying "Hi Mr Brennan. I'm so and so and I'm conducting a survey. Would you like to take some time to relate some suggestions off the top of your head for how cars could be made better?"

Instead, I get "Hi, I'm Mr low-skilled worker, and I'm representing a company that is so despicable it would like to try to create wealth by consuming your valuable free time". F off. Yes, I listened to System of a Down today in the car. Sometimes I need to feel those emotions. F off. I don't like you. You suck. You are the reason television sucks so bad.. because you are greedy and you don't give a rat's ass if you offend people or bother them, or take advantage of them, as long as you get yours. I hate you. You are scum, and if you died, the world would be a better place. Go away. Nobody wants you here. You are a pest. You are a parasite, existing only because you take adavantage of the weaknesses of your host, which is our healthy society. You produce nothing and seek only to profit for yourself, to buy your god damned mercedes because you think you deserve one. I really really hate you and I don't know how in the world I could possibly relate to you or try to be your friend. I don't know how anyone could want to be your friend, and I can't conceive of how you would want to be your own friend. I think you are sad, and I think you need help, but I don't think you care enough to do anything about it, and you will die of a heart attack while talking on a cell phone and driving your fancy car to work after an American lunch.

Pant pant.

Grin.

Yeah, I know, a little over the top, but man, I get so *frustrated* that I can't help me. If I had my way, I would change the world by ridding it of injustice. Somehow, I don't think people would want me to be a judge, though. Not that I don't have the proper moral compass or desire to do good and ability to see both sides of an argument that would allow me to make sound, helpful judgements, but because I don't fit into the mold. I refuse to jump through all the system's hoops and comform to every expectation just to be allowed to do the world a favour.

"Quarter to four". Thank you, Linus, for doing something different. How many times am I going to be surprised by that clock :) Hehehe.

Yeah, I said that as an explanation for my loss of focus.

I think losing my focus is a good thing. Too much focus doesn't allow me to branch out. If I follow only the widest, most logical and obvious path, I lose out on the opportunity to find something new. My thoughts are straying around and because of that I have a better chance of striking gold.

There's another point I wanted to record... Nights like this where I have tons of thoughts and figure out a lot of stuff are what makes me glad to be me. I feel at my best when my mind is just buzzing with thoughts and life. However, they don't come all the time. Having booms means equivalent busts, and some days I can mope around with a long face hating things and recovering from my mania. I think. I dunno, perhaps replenishing some necessary chemical or waiting for it to be replenished.

Oh, side note, I believe that the impact of the process of natural regeneration of certain brain chemicals is as important to making a mind healthy as it is to have the proper levels of the chemicals. Meaning that it is incorrect to dose the patient with the required chemicals to fill a void because it removes a part of the process that isn't understood yet, and takes away what may be key thought pressures for some individuals. I believe it is a crime against humanity to prescribe so many mood-altering chemicals. We just don't know if it's right yet, so why are we doing so much of it? Obviously these drugs are useful and have their place. But why is it that doctors feel justified in making blanket assessments of groups of people and prescribing in such a vague way? Ask the patients if they feel they are getting individual treatment, or if they feel as if someone is there with them through this process.

It reminds me of carpet bombing. Take loads of bombs. Fly over the affected area. Dose liberally. Problem solved. Statistically, that is.

Does it not occur to people that the fact that lie "between the statistics" are key parts of the puzzle? By wiping out these little traces of unknown agents, we are sterilizing parts of our environment, parts of our support network.

Sigh, that is a hopeless line of thought. Sometimes I just get sad when I think of some injustices, because I know that no matter how much I wail against that particular wall, no one is hearing me. I'm just too far out at this point in time.

So, yeah, I could be a musician, a poet, oh yeah! I could be a comedian! hehe. I could even be a great comedian, maybe. I could be an actor. I truly believe that. I believe I could pull off a difficult role and win an oscar or whatever. I could be all of these things. Which one will I choose?

Most likely I'll just peter out. At least that's what I used to think constantly, decreasingly so as time goes on though and I keep reaching my goals. That concept is what I was referring to when I said that I surprised myself again tonight with my guitar playing. I used to always think I'd fail, but now I'm succeeding at something I thought I couldn't do.

Musician, poet, artist, did I mention artist? In my 2nd watercolour class, my professor told me I was too advanced to have taken the beginner's class. I protested that it was only the third time I'd used watercolours in my life. Thankfully he is a good teacher and allowed me to be different and gave me tips on how to paint better. I think I could be a great artist.

Artist, scientist.. there's a category I didn't even touch. I believe I could be a good physicist. I've talked to a physicist once. I don't think he meant to be terribly dismissive. I think he was just honest. I still think he's wrong though and BECs represent something about the substructure of matter that he wasn't prepared to accept or open-minded enough to contemplate. Is it arrogant to believe that I can know better than a highly respected physicist? Yes. Is it wrong to believe that? I don't think so. How else would great new accomplishments come about?

Artist, scientist. Create, explore. Express, discover. Make the world a better place, make the world a better place.

:) Win win. [BANG] Thank you. I hate business more than anything. It is the metaphysical representation of greed. A filthy desire to receive more than you give is polluting our world, and the people are powerless to stop it. All the constructs of the system are not only created in favour of the business versus the people, but even worse, the control of the constructs of the system, and the generation of new constructs, also disproportionately favours business. We are losing, and we're losing the loss. As in an accelerating loss. We are in free-fall because the opponent, in this case untethered greed, is out of control and rising exponentially. There is only so much room in the economy, so when the business rises, the people have to fall. Like a lava lamp.

Did I not finish my thought? Goodness, I didn't.

Along the line of when I said that I love myself when I have these wonderful thought nights, and also when I said that these nights don't come around all that often, I meant to squeeze in a thought about marijuana. Marijuana makes my brain activity increase in some way such that thoughts like I had tonight will come flying into my brain at an astonishing rate. There are a lot of differences, like if I had been high tonight, I wouldn't have been able to stay on any given topic for quite as long, or keep such a tenuous train of thought as the artist, scientist one.

Yin and yang, of course. For the added restriction that I can't focus as well on a train of thought, I get an exponentially larger set of choices of trains to take, and they go farther and faster.

It is an unknown, however. I would be very gladdened to have access to research that helps me understand if I am doing any damage to myself with it. Speaking from experience, I feel like the damage that is done is outweighed by the benefits. I feel that I would rather suffer and gain what I gain than never suffer at all. I also believe that is my choice, and my right as a free citizen.

I know it is illegal, but I only believe it is so because it's against the law. In other words, the law is circular. It's against the law because it's against the law, not because a crime is being commited. The law doesn't represent anything concrete that a judge could point to and say "you did this, and that is wrong", instead, it is the system telling you "go to jail."

So anyway, back to the health question. Marijuana is a plant, and one that has been known to have interesting properties for a very long time. Marijuana has been smoked by people for a very long time. If it was that bad for me, I would know.

Current popular opinion? I don't know. Where I live, in Canada, it appears that about half the people don't care if I smoke it. Some right-wing christian nuts would want me to go to jail. Should I say that? Is that slander or something? What do you call it when people think you are bad for no concrete reason? What do you say to them, and how do you label them so as to distinguish them from other people in your writings? How do you discuss an important issue in a public forum without risking going to jail by offending someone?

Does there exist an unjust pressure against positive change in our society? I personally swear that I have never done anything bad or dangerous when I've consumed marijuana. I've taken walks. I've ridden my bike. I didn't hurt anyone, or feel agressive, or act agressively, or think negatively about others. Often I listened to music and enjoyed it more than usual, played video games, relaxed, read books, took a bath or a shower, played my guitar, or even more often just sat there with a pencil and paper furiously scribbling down wonderful ideas. Ideas like how to make software better because I'm sick of dealing with horrible user interfaces.

"Go to jail."

Why?

I laid in bed one night, unable to sleep, picturing myself in a courtroom being charged with possession of marijuana. I was representing myself (of course against "common sense" and the recommedation of the sytem, &c) and my defense was simple. I asked the judge to tell me what I had done wrong.

In my mind, he said "you broke the law".

Next, I asked "yes, but what did I do wrong?"

And he said "when you break the law, you go to jail."

And I said "what I'm asking is, what does the law represent? There needs to be a reason for the law to exist, it has to represent a criminal action, or it is a hollow law."

And then? I don't know. I would probably go to jail or get fined or whatever. Would I be allowed to appeal? Would I have to pay a lot of money? Could I afford justice?

Is justice even available to me? Am I even allowed to ask the judge that? Would I be in breach of protocol and threatened with restraint? Would I just get ground down in the wheels of the system, or would I get an answer?

In my mind, in the best possible outcome, the judge paused, thought.. and thought. He judged. He considered my question. In answer to "What crime did I commit?" he said "I don't know."

I don't really think it would happen that way.

It bothers me. I like marijuana, but it's illegal. I think it's a useful tool, but it's got a bad name. People have been told it is harmful, and that they should never use it. To back this request up, authorities have told you that it makes you blind, that it makes you do harder drugs, that it is addictive, that it's against the law.

Right now? I'm not blind, I choose when to smoke it, which choice is greatly affected by my life goals and my responsibilities, I have never, nor do I ever intend to use any harder drugs (cocaine, heroin, LSD, E, meth, speed, etc). The only reason out of the list I've been told that I believe marijuana is harmful is that it is against the law. I agree, it is a harmful thing to go to jail, and if I smoke marijuana, I risk going to jail.

Someone please help me here. Point out where I am wrong. Tell me why my wonderful life is so terrible and why I'm not allowed to use a tool that I find in my natural environment. Please tell me why I should go to jail. And don't say "because it's against the law", obviously :)

Oh, and ps I've avoided driving while high, treating it exactly like alcohol in that respect. I believe it would be a crime to drive under the influence of marijuana. I believe my 8 year old sister could get killed in a car accident and marijuana could be the culprit, for instance. I understand and accept that any discussion of legalization of marijuana has to take into account the possible ways that our society could be made a worse place, and deal fairly with any questions or concerns anyone might have about how the changes would affect us all. I don't believe that negates anything I've written here.

pps. See? I wouldn't make a very good judge. I couldn't bring myself to put someone in jail for breaking a law that I believe is unfounded. What does a judge do in that situation? Is there a way to say "ok, I don't know, can the supreme court please handle this?" I'm afraid most judges these days just say "well, it's the law. I'm not going to question that."

For all I know, that's the right thing to do. But I know I couldn't do it. So yeah, I shouldn't be a judge. Not in this society.

I think I'm going to bed now. My ever-so-innovative clock reads "Quarter to five". It doesn't even say "am". Somehow, I know.

:) night. Or should I say "good day?" Morning comes soon and this house is loud, so I'll just be even more tired. But I wouldn't change tonight for anything. :)

Life is good.

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