Hi life, I said bring it and you brought it. Thanks though.

Soo...the world bank is awe inspiring. It's huge and beautiful and there's people rushing around in suits and beautiful flags from 186 various countries hang in collection next to the information desk. High speed elevators whisk you up to high-tech conference rooms with cushy leather chairs and microphones are anchored in the place of each seat. We sat attentively with a group of high school students from Denmark and then followed by completely obliterating the speaker with core-crushing inquiries about the role of NGO's in the development arena. Politely of course yet I'm proud - we kicked intellectual ass. And at the end of it all, it all seems like bullshit and yet completely real.

Criticism is good, criticism is great - it reminds us that we're alive. Critical analysis invokes change and change is growth and growth is life and life will never be perfect. Happiness is deciding which contradictions and flaws you are willing to accept. We are here to use what we are given. In my opinion, it's unrealistic to expect perfection (but I'm not saying don't run towards it with all your might). Life is the beautiful struggle towards enlightenment and harmony. So anyways, NGO's are flawed. The World Bank and other similar institutions will always be evolving and realizing past mistakes because that's what we do! I guess my question is then, is it best to work inside or outside the system to create effective change?

After the presentation, a few member of my group (including myself) stuck around to ask some more questions. The speaker was great in the fact that she admitted the flaws and praised the good of the system. In my opinion, that is the way everything is. However, the flaw within the development ideology seems almost subconscious. It's not that the representatives of these organizations are actively maniacal. I believe that the flaw stems from the current collective opinion about what to do with all our knowledge of the world's injustice.
- - - - - - - -
I need to find someway to unload. Writing it out is a start, but it's like I can't even process everything fully enough to fully articulate what I'm feeling/thinking. It's frustrating. After the world bank visit, we walked back to the hostel to have a de-briefing session. I was literally so frustrated that I was holding back tears. The little fuckers just sneak up on ya. I'm glad that I have people to relate to on this trip. I mean I think everyone is great but there are a few people that I just really connect to. So this is re-assuring. I guess I'm also just missing Burlington. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm unhappy. Emotion is fine. Frustration is a warranted emotion. Basically, everything is a warranted emotion it's just how you deal with it. But anyways, yea it's nice to just retreat inside my head sometimes. I'm definitely not sending home my ipod. Oh, I don't think I mentioned that. This whole trip is like "getting away from technology" - which is awesome! down with the cell phone or whatever -  I'm not saying that I'll totally reject the past 100 years of science when I get back but it'll be nice to have less to worry about. I can't even say this enough. This year is going to be so fucking intense. It's like big, real, scary discussions all the time and sometimes you just want to cry and take a nap or just need a hug but no you have to sit in a room for two hours and de-brief about everything you've just heard and you want to just have a little time to process. But seriously though, no complaints! This is just my way to vent. I still feel so lucky and happy to be living and all that good jazz.

Your lips are moving words, I cannot breach the noise.

At the intersection of 21st and K street in Washington D.C. is a little known place, affectionately named the FAO or food and agriculture organization. Daniel Gustafson, director of the liaison office of North America greeted us in the conference room. He was pleasant enough - at least to say he seemed good at what he does. He made an effort to ask us our names, scripted or not. I don't know, I tend to be cynical. What kind of conversation can really take place in a 2 hour block between the director of an enormous NGO and a group of students? We hadn't built any repertoire with him, we're no group of  Michael Moore's storming the IMF claiming citizen's arrest. We were a group of 10 students accepting invitation into their glass box world of policy and analysis. We would like to think that we can at least make an attempt to get to the bottom of things, but in the end we were left with many lingering questions and a series of vague explanations. I'm not making a direct criticism. I personally can't. I'm a 20 year old child attempting to understand the in's and out's of the world. I'm sitting in a conference room grasping to understand our current system.

Anyways, we asked the questions, we heard some "answers". In the end, it was all very textbook. Moral of the story is that development policy is shifting towards "cultural understanding" and integration of "local initiatives".  FAO is essentially a credibility stamp (from my understanding). They receive analytical models from think global tanks and work with the principles of vision of the UN  to foster equality and development. They understand that agriculture is an essential and often overlooked aspect of a nation's security. Who are we if we can't feed ourselves? Who are we if we can't responsibly utilize our natural resources? We are in a lot of trouble, that's what. This is a truth. Yet, how do you bridge the founded and under-represented ingenuity of the local community with the need of the nation-state?

Mr. Gustafon also introduced us to his colleague, Florence. She continued the Q&A when he was obligated to leave for another meeting. This is where our questions really began to form. It's not that I think that she didn't know the answers, I just think it's difficult to filter what she is able and not able to discuss with a group of strangers. During the discussion, one of us put it on the table - U.S. policy, good or bad? Her response, a vague five minute response of jargon. I guess it's a pretty general question, an opinion would have been nice though. Like, we were at the source! We just wanted a little insight into the current system. On paper though, I got the chance to visit the FAO - no complaints about that.

I don't know what else to say. I would be a master if I could fit a two hour conversation into a few paragraphs. We discussed how the organization operated, learned that each member country of the FAO is also a part of the United Nations and that they have to tools (and use them) to implement socially just development. Yet, nothing is ever perfect and development-policy keeps changing with the acceptance of new social theories. I guess it's just important to keep seeing, keep learning, keep challenging what you "know". I did walk away with an important piece of advice though. There is no "best practice", every change must be created and implemented within the context of the system/community. Grey is the new black and white.

I'm all over the place right now.

Wow. So, I don't even know where to begin. There is so much going on in my head. I haven't even gone anywhere yet and I'm already feeling the intensity of the whole thing. All good things though, I have no complaints - the good and the bad is all good. I feel like I'm actually living. So yea, the program is amazing, the people are great, the classes are great, the professors are great. I have this one teacher, Gustavo Esteva - beautiful, beautiful man. It just blows my mind that I get to talk to him. I think it shows too. I do that whole wide-eyed smiley thing and probably look like a dumb ass. whatever. So yea, this guy was born into an indigenous Mexican family, kicked ass in school, was the first manager of the IBM of Mexico, realized that our education system was fucked and so completely turned his life around and then was a major player in the Zapatista revolution of Mexico in 1994. Like I said, this man deserves a proper wide-eyed awe. It's not even just that he's written half the articles for his class or that he's a revolutionary person in general ..but I get to eat dinner and have a conversation with him?! My brain is literally melting out of my ears. So yea, this is like the 6th time I've talked about this, I just can't get over how incredibly lucky and amazed I'm feeling. What else? I don't know. I've been on retreat in West Virginia for the past week. We stayed in cabins and had class outside - it was beautiful. Made friends with some ducks, a frog or five. Also, we've been doing yoga/ pilates every other day, which has been amazing. I love a good stretch. AND I'm starting to get over my fear of singing slash playing in front of people. I sang my version of America (Simon & Garfunkel) for our group community time - big deal for me, hah. Also makes me want to buy a travel guitar.

Moving on, one of the things I'm most excited for right now is my autonomous study. As a part of the year's curriculum we have to create a topic to study for the duration of the trip. Soo...I'm studying...marketplaces. I'm going to observe and research various cultural "marketplaces", observe the dialogue and influences of the space and try to learn how the marketplace serves as a societal internet. When I say internet, I mean like how people exchange ideas and create..organically. Just raw human interaction. AHH! I'm literallly peeing my pants...well not literally but I'm really fucking excited. I don't know if I'm exactly explaining exactly how I'm going to approach the topic but I haven't exactly defined any limits yet. Generally, I'm trying to make a comparison as to how the marketplace is the town hall of the "community" and how we can use this notion to ground the abstractions of our modern supermarket and just to simply study how people interact and exchange ideas and how various social mediums influence this exchange. I'm having a hard time making this idea concise, but also this is making me realize that I need to start journal-ing more so that I can organize my thoughts before I write here. But yea, so I'm studying marketplaces.

Also, everyone on this trip is so amazing. I feel fully submersed into a beautiful and infinite intellectual bubble, hah. Not that living in a bubble is good - but I can already see how this year is going to help me grow so much. Not in a bad way though! I'm worried about losing the people that I care about but I also know that recognizing this means I have a choice in the matter. I feel accomplished in the notion that I'm staying grounded. Yea..so that's it for now. My brain is fully stimulated ha ha I just mean that like that I get to debate with people all the time (my anti-drug) and there is so much information going on that I don't think I'll be able to process everything until about 3 months after I get back. But seriously, I couldn't be happier. I think doing this program is one of the best decisions I've ever made...ever...ever. Did I say ever?

Weird mood - I don't know. (First night in DC)

She steps off the train. Standing silently while dismantling her burden, the others filter through a scene of box cars and train conductors. A tiny crocheted pouch dangles from the edge of the pack - a collection of natural life to ward off negative energy and evil spirits. Next to it, a worn chinese coin for luck. She believes in it all and dismisses the fact. She has the necessary tools. They are manifested within these symbols of empowerment. They are pumping through her veins. Each red blood cell a lesson. Each nerve impulse a teaching. 

The hotel is reminiscent of a boarding house 70 years past. A beer saloon occupies the ground floor. Of course, she can't even get a beer. Nice clothes and a cool demeanor can't fix time, she wishes they could though. The alternate - a satisfying venture. She had never seen mango and mint with fish before. Yet, eating alone is still strange. The city seems simultaneously bursting and hollow.


A locked room is safe. A window ledge is safe. A night-covered city street is not. No matter how much she tries, she will always be a woman. At times, this is too much to bear. She knows she has the tools, but what are her limits?

Oh, it's on.

Respect. Give me that and you give me the world. I don't care what happens to me in the next n years of my life from now but respect is officially on my list of good things and life is an experiment. Life is an experiment to see if the laws I have created for myself are true. Life will be an experiment to test and explore the bounds of the framework that I continue to build. I'm starting to think that I might not swear as much but whatever for right now hey life, bring it the fuck on.

Sometimes, I am wholly confident about my view on a situation. But lately, doubt drips over me like that almost rain that mists instead of falls and you end up just kind of damp, but if you were wet it would be okay - beautiful even. Not to the extent that I have become unfounded in myself, but to the extent where the memories that I've held onto for so long are starting to unravel and disintegrate.  

You can't have what you don't hold.

A. I'm sure that's a line from a song
B. It bothers me that I can't remember what song that is and I'm sure it's a common song theme
C. whatever that song was, it stuck with me.

I have three days until D day and in addition to that whole thing, I'm packing and moving all my shit. By the end of today, my room will be a space with four white walls and a few bed posts. I've accepted the change, it's just that I didn't expect a few of the side effects. Mainly, I don't feasibly have enough time to do that whole thing where you find an old, discolored plastic bracelet that your best friend gave you in third grade, look it over for 20-65 minutes and then pack it neatly into large, marked boxes. I did my best to get rid of as many things as I could and at least organize clothes, books and CD's into easily retrievable locations. If I could have it my way, I'd throw everything away except for my books, a pair of pants and a sturdy shirt. I realize this is completely unrealistic.

In the midst of organizing, I did find all those old memories though. They were literally hid in the backs of drawers and on hooks in closets. Oh, the irony. What is memory? Can a memory be linked to an item? Or are we so afraid of losing memory that we manifest it into an object? I think the item is our way of ensuring that one day we will be reminded and I always want to be reminded. Eh, maybe that's my downfall. Either way, there are some items I can't let go of. They are things that I would keep solely to pack away. It's strange. 

But memories change and people change and life changes and the item can be a representation of all or none of those changes. Sometimes, I think about things that have happened and I get so angry but I can't help but to think about it. Sometimes, I think about the same thing and feel okay. It's like my mind can't even make up it's mind. Sometimes, time folds in on itself and I feel as if something that happened so long ago (oh, hey high school) took place but only a month ago. Yet, regardless of how I feel from day to day - I can't decide whether my memories are even how I thought they were now. Memories that you hold so highly aren't even half as important if they aren't shared. Lingering doubt holds it's place as the worst feeling. This is because memories also remind you of decisions. I've said this before that everybody has regrets and that regrets are irrevocable if already in the past but damn, it's hard to hold yourself to your own beliefs.

At the end of the day, yea okay, there are some things I still can't let go of. It doesn't mean that they effect my day to day (I can stand on my own two feet) but I can't promise anything when I'm feeling real existential. That's just the way it is. I'm loyal, even if my loyalty is unfounded. I think it has something to do with being a dog person. I don't think cat people are like that. Cats are like all independent and moody and shit, right? I have a feeling there's something to that whole I'm a cat person vs. I'm a dog person thing - I also think it's bullshit and people are just animal people or not but hey, whatever floats your boat. I have been becoming more of a cat person lately too though, I wonder if I'm starting to change as well.

Life, youz a funny ho.

This morning's coffee marked the start of a slow, cascading death. At this moment I have 9 days and when I get back - confirmed suspicions tell me that my life as I know it will be gone. Dwight and I have reached a point where the phrase "to each his own" rings more than true.

When you're a kid, you think your parents are nearly immortal. They're superheros, saviors and they do no wrong. As we get older, this theory is quickly dismantled. Not many people realize this but high school was the most figuratively violent time in my life. I was depressed, deprived, hormonally imbalanced. Whatever you want to call it - everyone goes through that in their own way. We realize our parents have flaws and sometimes we feel like we're living with strangers. 

Then, when we begin to find ourselves - we realize that our parents still have some finding to do too.  Parents are there to take what they never had (literal or emotionally) and try their damned best to give you that. They teach you the lessons which they've stored from childhood like rusty keys and they do what they can to fit the definition of a "good parent". Except, no one's perfect. They're going to make mistakes - they're going to make the wrong decision and no matter what. You are going to be fine. I mean, I believe in tabula rasa to some extent but once you reach a certain point in your life...the baby bird's got to learn to fly somehow.

Everyone carries resentment and regret, if you don't I'm confused as to how you've been living your life. Except, you learn the most important lessons through the shitty stuff that happens to you. Take away from this what you will, but adversity always rewards with a bigger piece of the pie. Change helps you grow. Complacency stifles and kills. To quote the film Waking Life (this has really stuck with me): 


The worst mistake that you can make is to think you're alive when really you're asleep in life's waiting room. 

So to hell with complacency! I want to be poor. I want to be dirty. I want to live with a backpack and a good pair of shoes. I don't want a house. I don't want a regular job. I don't want a home. What's a home anyways? Security? To hell with security! The only currency I want is what I can fit in my mind. I know that whatever happens I will be able to fulfill my five basic needs with hard work and a little faith. It's funny how you will always be okay as long as you never give up and give in to the uncertainty of life. Someday I will be tired and these wants will change but for right now, it's all okay.

By the time I get back, 316 Lake Street will probably no longer be home to the gang, my house or Dwight's workplace. By the time I get back, I might not have a singular home. By the time I get back, I have no idea where the hell I'm going to be or what I'm going to do. I for sure teared up when I heard this. Although, I occasionally resent being in Vernon - I love my friends and things have been looking up lately. I feel like this change may be before it's time. But I know that it's not. What ever happens will happen or fail to and whoever is supposed to be in my life will find their way there or not.

I love my father despite his perpetual enigma of being. He needs a fresh start. Selling the house might be the best thing to happen to the both of us. I don't want to speak too confidently about this all actually happening, but selling the house will give us both freedom. Freedom from memories and financial obligation. Honestly, that is the only thing I want. If I am able to pay off my student loans in one fell swoop... everybody watch out.

I got a heavy metal mouth that hurls obscenity and I get my check from the trash treasury because I took my own insides out.

07.
By now I've traced 1,000 steps
avoiding grimy forgotton prints in the muck
and now I'm here, but where am I?

You think it's one way, but you're wrong
I've been finding myself by seeing who I am not
faces and names pass through my life
like a muted TV screen
and I love them all.

but remember your routes
because Karma's a bitch
and no one wants to be an unfounded willow

floating in the space between
time and all you know
even the sweetest tea turns sour
under moons so -
heavy, low and bursting
with unreachable love

her beauty's brimming with boiling gas
overwhelmed by caustic fire and ash
but she brings you light, you can't forget that
well, doesn't she?

I write because I need mental stimulation.

You would be correct in assuming that this is not an extension of my theories on the future of music. If it were, part II would be somewhere in the title. That comes later though.

I need to say this as a side note. I'm not really sure how I feel about this blog anymore. I want to write about the random things floating around in my brain like riffs about walmart and breakcore. On the other hand, sometimes I'm feeling really personal and the disconnect between me sitting at my computer and having NO clue who's reading this - helps me to say whatever the fuck I want. This could be dangerous, but at the same time I don't care. If you really care about me, you won't give a shit about what I say or care about what's between the lines of my "poems" (I don't actually take my self seriously about this since I'm not even sure about structure, technique whatever). I'm going to continue to make this personal because even though I know that at least a few people read this blog, it's a little satisfying to share deep dark icky stuff with strangers and perhaps the people I wish would/wouldn't read it. Who's to say.

Anyyywhootle, last night I took some Valerian root. I'm trying to look for stronger herbs but since I can't justify online shopping due to my fiscal responsibilities - I'll stick with the six dollar bottle of pills from CVS. Regardless of strength, they are a life-saver when I can't sleep.

So moving on, I had a dream. Correction, I had a very intense dream. In short, I was up in Burlington again taking classes and at one point I was walking up the Redstone green and it became so vertical that I was sliding down the face of a grassy cliff. Another point, in the midst of this climb three cars came soaring off the top of the cliff and crashed at the bottom. Terrifying to say the least. I looked up the meaning of the dream and was told that I should avoid travel for a short period of time to avoid the loss of my life. Should we believe in our dreams? I'm a little shaken up since I have never had such an intense mental prediction before. I'm not trying to suggest that I possess psychic powers. Although, I've had small predictions in dreams previously and I can't honestly say that I don't believe that dreams aren't in fact mysterious and complex. I struggle with how much to give in to the still unfounded science of our minds. Either way, it's creepy. I'm a bit confused. I've resolved to stay in, enjoy the day and just have a beer.

"I've discovered breakcore and now I can't sleep" - - (Part I)

I was on last.fm a couple weeks ago and I saw this as the title of a link. Of course, I clicked on it immediately. Although, I was expecting to find something shocking and fatal, possibly corresponding to the plot of fear.com (mediocre horror flick from the early 2000’s). What I found was even more intriguing. Breakcore is in fact a genre of music derived from the electronica family. The following is an exact description from said website.

Breakcore is a loosely defined electronic music style that brings together elements of industrial, jungle, hardcore techno and idm into a breakbeat-oriented sound that encourages speed, complexity, impact and maximum sonic density. Similar to punk, breakcore adheres to a loose set of stylistic “rules” and is defined more by an attitude than by a musical formula.

Huh, ya don't say?

Why am I bringing this up? I'll start with this... dubstep. If you don't know what I'm talking about, look it up. Reactions may vary. Dubstep seems to be taking over lately. I'm unaware about the spread of its popularity but I do know that none of the connecticut-ians with whom I inquired (with the exception of a couple fans of the wobble that I talked to last night) were acquainted with this phenomenon. Either way, the pandemic is growing and I'm not sure whether every one's happy about the fact.

Although it continues to gain popularity in Burlington, I know there are still those out there who are against the shift in the college music scene towards an electronic persuasion. I'm aware of the fact that electronica (dubstep included) is not a new thing but it has always seemed to have closer ties with the cities and more specifically the rave scene. And let me tell you, I went to Big Up last month and there was a lot of people (myself included) gettin' RULL swampy on a horse farm in upstate New York. I do have to say though that Big Up was the first "festival" I had ever been to - so what do I know?

This is a larger thought process than I have energy to write about right now but chew on this. Rock and Roll shook it up - ever since the 60's music genres have been developing loudly, changing our stances on life, becoming reflections of those perceptions and most importantly multiplying like crazy. There are more music genres out there now then I even care to indulge in acknowledging and I'm embarrassingly partial to the over-specific genre categorization of the music I listen to.

Okay this is where I'm going with this. Is there something comparable about the rise and surprisingly mercurial qualities of electronica to the past 50 years of music history? When searching around for some examples of breakcore to listen to - a lot of what I found was a little unbearable. I'm definitely a fan of metal, grunge and all that so I can appreciate a harsher sound. Yet, the unstructured nature of the music kept reminding me of the Sex Pistols. Confession: I am not really a fan. They didn't even really know how to play the guitar. I like "God Save the Queen" and that song that's like I am an anti-christ, I am an anarchist ya know- classic. However, they were more of a symbol of the time and a representation of the birth of punk than a legitimate group of musicians for which we appreciate the music itself. Then again, punk is more a lifestyle slash atmosphere than anything else. I feel like I'm digging myself into a hole that makes me sound like I dislike punk. For the record, that's false. Either way, this is my example of the comparison. I would need to do more research to make a legitimate claim and therefore make an attempt at validating this word vomit. Nonetheless, is breakcore in fact the punk of electronic sound? What will happen to the music world in the next 40 years and are we feeling bored and limited by the potential of our instruments?

I will leave you with this. I'm not too sure if I agree with the title of the link. If I do, I am unsure as to whether I associate a good or bad connotation with my insomnia. However, Aaron Spectre is pretty cool and I would make a recommendation to give him a listen. It's enough structure that you can mentally follow along and he's real into reggae infusions so overall it's a good time.

Sometimes, feeling like you've got nothing to lose can be the most dangerous drug.

05.
I think it was a Monday...
I gave entrance to my haven
that old tent in the bedroom
empty beer cans and paper clippings

You lay me down on sheets and blankets
what a perfect place we made
the stereo played the mandolin
sunshine burst through nylon stretch

Bristled brushes all around
colored sheets and goose down
I laid your head on my chest
and let my heart do the rest.

06.
"Make the right choice"
- is like saying
never place your feet
on breaks in the sidewalk
your mother will be terribly hurt!
haven't you heard?
...okay, well maybe you can
once in a while
but only on Tuesdays
every other that is
during the even months
when the sun's out
but not too bright
even then...
you should really giver her a call.

I had a drink the other day, opinions were like kittens I was giving them away.

03.
Words fly like paper doves
crispy creatures they be
and animals are we
silent, shaded silhouettes

Perceptions, apprehensions, wounded pride
blinding freckled flesh
can say more as we speak less
like constellation love letters

But flesh sweats
exposing its stench
when constellations turn to -
nights too bright to forget.

Pressed against, swallowed whole
Jonas would be proud
I took it like a man
I didn't say a word

In the belly of the whale
Molars and salted water
Stinging my eyes - red, red, red
I didn't have a name.

Now paper slices fingertips
Once meant to fit with others (of its own kind)
I hope you didn't mind
I stood up for myself this time.

04.
Lately I've been feeling pretty cool
And man some days I think it goes to my head
Now, I'm not claiming arrogance
It's just sometimes -
I'd rather be unnoticed, clinging to my humility

There's this kid, he thinks I'm beautiful
tells me so five times a day
introduced himself in a bagel shop last week
acts like I've known him for years and years
though I can't help but think the name's not quite right

It's like there's too many letters
or maybe not enough vowels?
his face doesn't look the same
but maybe I just remembered him taller
and certainly the eyes are all wrong.

It's just this loyalty to a memory
a memory wrapped in significance
a significance I can't understand
an understanding...
I've yet to allow proper significance.

I'm supposed to be re-inforcing the fort in preparation for our buddy Earl, but it still looks sunny out to me.

Had a wee bit of a freak out last night - it's strange. I mean it's one thing for everybody to say "oh my gosh, you are going to have so much fun! You're going on a trip around the world" and I know this is true. I applied for the damn thing, but sometimes in the midst of everything - it's hard to remember why I'm doing this some times. Disclaimer: don't think I'm saying I'm regretting my decision. I worked for this and I wanted this and I got this and I'm damn proud. I know it's what I need and what I want. Yet, I can't get over this childish instinct about wanting my cake and eating it too.

Talked to my good friend Jess on the phone last night. Girl called me at the perfect time. She's great, living in Missoula, Montana. (makes me feel cultured - I can say I have friend out west hah) But anyways, moral of the story is I've got love for that kid. She's got a good head on her shoulders and is real with me.

I digress. These last couple of weeks before the end of an era are starting to (and will continue to) feel like a rushing train heading towards a very solid brick wall. I feel like I'm trying to slow things down so I can stay here a little longer, even though I'm about a tank of gas and a world away from my life. It's unreal for me to think I'm a part of that right now. I' m sitting in an empty house waiting for something that I can't even imagine. I know that whatever is going to happen is going to change me forever and I want change, but I don't want to change who I am.

I'm not scared that some thing's going to be different when I get back. I'm scared that every thing's going to be different when I get back. Honestly, no one can say anything to make me feel differently. No one knows what can happen in 9 months. Although, I do know that whatever happens to myself, will be a growth and not a change. Alyssa put it more articulately but I can't quote her verbatim right now. (more love for her too - I feel like I'm doing Internet shout-outs right now)

I guess it just goes back to this unspoken nervousness about my existing life changing so much so that when I get back I won't fit into that life anymore. That scares the shit out of me. It's like this. I feel that I'm an open person, not too bad to get along with, pretty understanding, whatever whatever. BUT I will say this. It takes me a little while to let ya in. ANOTHER BUT, if you do get in. I hold significant persons with me for a very long time. If you are significant to me, I will do a lot to keep that in tact (I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't say this was a sliding scale). Pretty much, unless you tell me you hate me or like you're going to burn my house down. You're still with me. So that being said, sometimes I have a hard time balancing life/fate/cosmic balance whatever with what I need to do for myself. Ya can't have ya cake and eat it too.