my brain feels unplugged.

we took the dogs in the truck and went to the place we walk around and Trikke. but it was cold, cold, windy. and i couldn't breathe. got all shaky and faint and sank to the ground. took shallow breaths and all that, and got back to the car and felt some better.

but feel... slow now.

like when i wake up but am not-waked up. zombie-walking-still-asleep-girl.

time stretched out funny. not in sync with reality. more space and time inside my head. making things both faster and slower at once.

i love to watch wind through window-glass. i am inside where it is still. outside is moving, and i am still.

the word wind is inside window. Ow. Ouch. wind. ow. Maybe because wind screams and howls like it is in pain sometimes, when it slams into the zoo-glass and can't come in.

Hi, wind.
Come in, come in.

it is too stuffy in here. dying, stagnant.

outside is moving, and i am still.


a conversation. the parallel thoughts. and the aftermath.

The catalytic snippet of conversation:

S: I knew you were a surrealist like me :)
Me: no.
S: (paraphrasing) it seems like you've studied psychology and philosophy.
Me: i haven't read much philosophy, just a paragraph takes hours to think about, so i rarely make it through a book.
S: about philosophy- i know what you mean, but i like that about it, i've always liked to question everything

The internal mental commentary that paralleled at the time:

no. well, whether or not i am a surrealist is irrelevant, as what i said before you accused me of surrealism was not in fact where i was going with my thoughts. so, maybe yes. but no, not this second, and second, as in next not as in time, second, which i've now said in thirds, second, hehe, second, even if i was both a surrealist and if i was being surreal at this time, still and absolutely NO, because i would NOT, and for sure, ever be a surrealist, or an any kind of -ist, LIKE YOU, i would be entirely my own kind of -ist. no.

this is weird, it's almost a civil conversation, if still an impossible one, since she wants to make sentences fight and group all kinds of disagreeable contradictions together... philosophy? what does philosophy have to do with how i talk/type?

that would be me, not what i've read, and TRUST me, i can say that because i know the difference, i have read books so long that i have been completely drowned in the syntax and rhythm, and become an echo echo echo, dream and write and stuck-brain in someone else's words, i do this on purpose sometimes with good books, as it is pretty fascinating, but no, no i am in my own syntax today, and have NOT read anything i got stuck in lately, no philosophy for sure, so my knowledge, or lack thereof, of philosophy is irrelevant.

why does she keep putting things together that do not go? lie lie lies to throw around "I KNOW" and "I CAN TELL" kinds of statements, because she obviously does Not-know. so why doesn't she ask if she suspects, instead of phrasing things with presuppositions that are not true?

sigh. i do Not-know. so i will say- no, Not-why, and also, yes i like philosophy, in an attempt to keep up the conversation and the Civil... i haven't read much philosophy, just a paragraph takes hours to think about, so i rarely make it through a book...

MADMADMADMADMADMADMADMAD. frustratedANGERkick. resignation. sigh. surrender. i have no idea how what i said made her think that i do NOT like to question everything. i simply meant that i am only 29, and so i have not been alive long enough to have had time to think my way through BOOKS, only as far as a few pages. what does that observation have to do with LIKE? of course i like it.

talking to humans is too hard. again with the grouping. i hate being grouped. AND, if you are going to be presumptuous enough to group me in with you... which, would be a mistake... why would you assume- yes, i share that experience with you. we are in the same group. but, unlike you, i enjoy questioning things and like philosophy.

NO. wrong groups again. have backwards. you and i? NOT a group. and also, amanda DOES like to question things, so QUIT trying to outcast her from that group.

sigh. impasse impasse impasse...

The aftermath of thought:

But actually... (and much to my chagrin) after giving it some thought...

i don't like to question everything.

Kind of embarrassing after i got so mad. But I don't.

I like to think, ponder, understand, explore, pick apart to see the guts inside and how they work... but question?

I don't question, challenge, or disbelieve things especially. I am gullible. The streak of blunt honesty in my nature expects the same in return.

If you tell me the sky is blue, i might think- what makes it blue? is the blue i see the same as the blue garret sees? what if what my brain calls pink is what other people see in their head and call blue? where is the line that separates sky from space? what IS sky exactly? not just air, not space...

I think about, I play with, but i rarely doubt any of the random information i know.

So, she was quite right. I do not like to question or challenge or doubt things. I just like to play.

Mostly, this is because things make sense.

I Question humans the most. Because conversations, behavior... is Non-sense.

I know, and can explain, why I do and say everything i do and say.

95% of everything others do and say?

i Do not-Know.



Garret is on his way home. He's been gone almost 2 weeks. (work.) He has the flu.

i should feel a little sorry for him.

But mostly i just feel a little anxious that he is going to get me sick. And annoyed that i can not pounce and play, and talk at him when he gets here. Because i will have to be nice and considerate, and i do not want to be nice. i have been all alone for a long time and i am BORED and i want to PLAY. And not just watch someone cough feebly and look ill.

i want him to fix the pilot light on the heater that has been off for four days that i cannot fix by myself. and i want him to do something about the dogs, because i feel horribly guilty when i give them food and i know they are bored and want to PLAY too.


amanda grudgingly admits kinship with dogs. wolf-growl.


long-handled spoons.

here is the song loop: Blink182 singing- All the. Small things.

Then... Good Charlotte? I think. Then Good Charlotte breaks in with- The Little Things! The Little Things!

Like an argument. The songs don't get any further than that. Just an interrupting tug-of-war.

All the. small things. The little things! The little things! All the. small things. The little things the little things!!!! All. the. small things. The little things!!! THE LITTLE THINGS!!! All. the. small. things!

Blink182-guy is clearly winning the argument. Other guy is freaking out with eyeliner running down his face. Insistently screaming THE LITTLE THINGS!! while Blink-guy smirks.


I am probably more often eyeliner-guy in an argument.

and/or i do not understand canadians.

(seems like everyone impossible lately is canadian, i'm 5 for 5.)

i first thought that in jest. because, well, even though i don't really know any canadians, i don't think of them as being from another country. they go in the same mental compartment as people from Maine or North Dakota. people who live up in lots of snow. (north is up.)

but... i think there might be something to it. Just this week a Canadian said, you just don't understand our humor up here. And he wasn't talking to me, as in I, so by you he seemed to mean Americans as a collective.

the whole grouping thing is a strange tangent in itself... very unobservant of me to ignore the designation Canadian until someone points out i am not in the group and cannot play. i mean, it's not like i ever thought of myself as canadian, but it never occurred to me it might be relevant in relating to people. culture is such a weird thing.

when i was in 6th grade, i had my head slammed into a wall while walking to class. the three 8th graders, who were black, informed me that- that's for being a white girl. of course i knew i wasn't black before that, but i'd never really noticed before.

i think at this point in my life, if i was to write a list describing who and what i am, i'd put the adjective white on the list. not because i feel any kinship with white people in particular, but just because i have had a few experiences where i was made to feel White. the same with Girl or Woman.

but they are defensive labels. more about what i am not than what i am.

in amanda-speak there is rarely a This, only a Not-That.

i don't think of myself as American so much as Not-French, Not-Colombian.

i don't identify with the group, i just accept the label for it's designation of- OUTCAST.

my exceptions to that are: i AM Aspie. i AM Floridian.

those two are a True instead of just a Not-false.

anyway. i have gotten sidetracked.

All the. Small things...

oh yes, that was what i started to write about. the small, little things. like long-handled spoons.

Here's the thing... cakes.

No, just kidding. Grr, can't stop thinking in other people's quotes. Here is the thing..


It might be "bad" that I allow small things to upset me. (Such as pesky canadians.)

But, this minute, it is yay. Turn on a dime... Because little happy things are now.

I have been worried and icky with trap-sleep. When i go to bed angry, i wake up in fists and in a hypnopompic state. Brain all knotted. Last night, i was in a bad mood.

But then, a small little peek-wave gesture turned it all around. And, yay! Joey sent over some warm fuzzies and then- poof, i was deliriously happy. (Literal on the delirium.)

And so, i went off to happy dreamland and not the bad kind. Pretty, floaty hypnagogic stuff.

(Hypnagogic means hallucinating while trying to fall asleep, hypnopompic means hallucinating while getting up. I get lots of hypnopompic stuff, sometimes mixed in with sleep paralysis, and i can't always tell apart sleep and reality. Think- very vivid dreams involving lots of violence, rape, murder, etc.)

I did wake up thinking Sagira was dead, but luckily she was curled up on me, so I could tell that it was just a dream.

I made myself hot-chocolate. With a long-handled spoon. And spent a long time thinking of how much i love long-handled spoons and how happy they make me.

So. Today so far: yay Joey, yay Sagira, yay hot-chocolate, yay SPOONS!

Today's I AM list: i am cold. i am hungry. i am cat. i am bug. i am cute. i am strange. i am smile. i am dark. i am blue light. i am INDO? i am teeny. i am boxed. i am yay.

you should make an I AM list. they are super fun. most fun i think when you write whatever pops in head first to complete the sentences, and don't think too much.

kick-kiss to all who read this,
i am anda