and then...chronic

So I was wrong about Sundays. I didn't have time Sunday and I don't have the time today but here I am. And it's a different computer, too. Nice big monitor. :D

Tuesdays, then? That's okay? Okay. This blog now updates on Tuesdays instead of Mondays.  I ordered a special bookshelf which is designed to make my books look like they are floating. I need a great deal of shelf space. Will probably buy a lot for a little at the local walmart, once I schlup some furniture around and have a little moar space. Then I will get rid of things and maybe purchase other things. 

I've had chronic depression, then chronic anxiety, now chronic joy lonely. But that word CHRONIC is what gets me.  It's illness in itself, the way it sounds. And it makes so much of anything: chronic boy, he's chronic. How are you? Chronic. Where did you get that? Chronic and the chronic, chronic. 

My film professor this semester is one of those who grades you by a more difficult standard if you are especially thorough. That was a sentence messy. And speaking of that, my film textbook is written awful! Verb confusion all over the place. And the commas? Forget about it. 

I spent quite a lot on journals this year, with shipping and everything. I'm excited about saving that money next year, when I switch to the cheaper stuff. I want to paint things again. At least I brought crayons. I like pretty things. You know what I don't like? Complaints. Everyone Bonds with Bitching. I'm utter sick of it. I sit alone in corners everywhere because I don't want to participate in this Bonding with Bitching ritual that everyone around me uses. That's how they make people to hang out with, I suppose, and I'd like that, but I'm utter ill of it. Here I was happy and you push me to compare my conflict to yours, which, by the way, is nothing compared to mine. And then it's all stupid relative thinking and negative energy all over again. I have literally spent hundreds of hours listening to these dumbos and I don't even know them! But I can sure tell you all about their problems about stepdaddy money lacking pill taking etc. You're alive. We're in class at University. It's not relevant now. I don't know your name. Shut up.

But then, they are trying to share themselves. It's just that they're entirely defined by their problems instead of how they deal with them or the grand things, like honeybees. 

I went from sixteen personas to thirty-two in the last four years! I need to crack down on this or it's going to be up in the hundreds when I'm middle aged. Of course, there are stagnant periods. They develop out of trauma or periods of intense joy. Mostly trauma, but I have to add the "joy" thing (as I'm not technically diagnosed with DID and I'd like to keep it that way for now. Much harder to UNdiagnose, I imagine. And I don't get the blackouts). I mean, I got seven boys from chronic depression. But hey, even those Dopplegangers do a lot for me in the Palace Nouvelle. 

Hooray for copy writing! Perhaps I shall do more of it in the new year. I'll add it to my big happy list. Thanks for reading, fellas. Have fun in the sun, I happen to know that you've got one :O As Alan says, "Sun made morning this morning!"