A year is a measure of time that marks one turning of our planet around the sun. Meaning it's relative to our planet and our planet alone. Winter to winter, sunshine to rain. Everything starts over. And everyone is filled with hope. My only hope is that the things I want to do I have the fucking balls to do, which includes leaving this damn town with my integrity intact. And that I grow as a person, as a soul-inhabiting-a-body, as an artist, as an oracle, and, most importantly, as a lover. But the year's not over yet, so I will take these next hours as memories yet to be made, and leave you with the lyrics to the most annoying song from the most annoying musical that was ripped from a decent French Opera. You know the one I'm talking about.

RENT : Seasons Of Love Lyrics Songwriters: Larson, Jonathan D;

COMPANY
525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes - how do you measure,
measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In
inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes - how do you
measure a year in the life?
How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of
love.

SOLOIST 1
525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan. 525,600 minutes - how can you measure
the life of a woman or man?

SOLOIST 2
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried. In bridges he burned, or
the way that she died.

COMPANY
It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends. Remember
the love! Remember the love! Remember
the love! Measure in love. Seasons of love! Seasons of love.

*I started this on paper about a year ago, and wound up with one sentence: "Progress is Bullshit.". Now that I have had some time to mull over this, and understand the world a bit better, I still stand my my original declaration. I just have a better way of expounding upon this now.*

The general consensus on progress, on the marching forward of humanity, brought mostly from the annals of common knowledge (am I the only one that understands that the term "common knowledge" is an oxymoron?) is that humanity is, indeed, marching forward. At least in the western world and select parts of the East, everyone is educated. Everyone is well fed, or at least government subsidized into the illusion that they are well fed. We have cars, planes, trains, televisions, computers, motor-driven manufacturing that can make any product the human mind can dream of. Science has replaced superstition. Society is more tolerant of differences and not openly burning witches, gays, and political dissidents in the streets. We are progressing. Progress has been made on Earth. We as a people are so much better than we used to be. But no one seems to realize that progress.... is bullshit.
Yes, I said it. Progress is bullshit. And there are many reasons that progress is bullshit. Progress, real progress, is a complete change in the humans who inhabit humanity itself, and not just the powers that be that govern them. Humans are just as slobbery, mangy, paranoid, prejudiced, lecherous, and greedy to the point of sociopathy as ever. And as wonderful and beautiful. It's just that we've been told to act more civilized in front of company, and life itself doesn't wear on us as quickly, we're soft and comfortable, so we can afford to throw fewer people under the carriage.  What we call progress, in its most basic terms, is a grand illusion in itself. Yes, many revolutions have been fought to get us to this point, the Civil Rights movement, the Women's movement, the Industrial Revolution, the Sexual Revolution, the Rock & Roll Revolution, the Disco Revolution, whatever the hell happened to the human psyche from 1946 to 1978. But, these just seem to be changes in the institution itself. Those members of humanity that would have otherwise opened up did, and those that are fitted for ignorance and hatred stayed in their caves. What happened was that the people directly involved in these revolutions went through the change, fought for their cause, and then rules or products or procedures, or what have you, were implemented to keep these changes, and then it was a trickle down effect. People stop denying things to others deemed "different" because they have to, not because they suddenly have no prejudices. People eat with a fork and dress themselves in the morning because there are rewards. Actually, I would be more inclined to believe that all of what we call "progress" is just a trickle-down effect. The most intellegent, most charismatic, most open, most creative create, and change, and think, and put things out there. And the rest just follow their example. If that even makes any sense. We're never really changing anything at least in the general populice, it's just that our magazines keep getting shinier.

I feel like we're in an episode of the Twilight Zone and the gremlins are playing with all the events of today just to see who will crack first. There was a humming sound coming from the other side of the bathroom wall just before I took a shower. The water went cold really fast. I had a really bad taste in my mouth that I couldn't get rid of until I finally ate something. My hair dryer stopped working. I grabbed two skirts instead of a skirt and a blouse. I just happened to mention all of this to Micah, saying "this is going to be one of those days" and he gave an automatic "no, it won't. It's just a coincidence" speech. I made a salad and poured some coffee. I noticed that the bag of sugar on the counter had made marks on aforementioned counter, then I picked up the bag, pouring a bit of the sugar into my coffee. It was wet. I didn't think anything of it. I got halfway into the cup and I noticed that my hands smelled funny. I went back to the sugar bag, and next to it was a knocked, over, open, spilled bottle of spic-and-span. I thought that damn cleaning solution was under the sink, you know, like how sane people who don't want to die do it. I poured the not-poisonous sugar into a tupperware bowl, but then realized that the action of pouring just makes the bottom of the bag go to the top. I threw it all away. I'm not sick, and it's been an hour and a half, so I don't think I ingested any, but still, that was a one-in-a-million shot. Then Micah goes down to do laundry, and comes back to tell me that the dryer he put his clothes in was broken, and when he moved the clothes to another one, he hit his head. Today has just been on big ring of failure, and now we're both a bit afraid to leave the house.

This is a very odd quiz, maybe it should be called the "life experience/ how corrupt are you?" test. I'm pretty sure that it's designed for high schoolers, so I shouldn't feel too bad that I've been through a lot of this.

1. Smoked.
2. Drank alcohol.
3. Cried when someone died.
4. Been drunk.
5. Had sex.
6. Been to a concert.
7. Gotten a handjob/fingered.
8. Given a blowjob/ate out someone.
9. Been verbally harassed.
10. Verbally harassed somebody.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 91%

11. Felt someone up and/or been felt up.
12. Laughed so hard something came out of your nose.
13. Cheated on a boyfriend/girlfriend before
14. Been cheated on by a boyfriend/ girlfriend.
15. Been to prom.
16. Cried at school.
17. Gotten lost in a WalMart or a department store.
18. Went streaking.
19. Given or receieved a lap dance.
20. Had someone of the opposite sex in your room.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 84%

21. Had someone of the opposite sex sleep over.
22. Slept over at someone of the opposite sex’s house.
23. Kissed a stranger.
24. Hugged a stranger.
25. Went scuba diving.
26. Driven a car.
27. Gotten an x-ray.
28. Hit by a car.
29. Had a party.
30. Done serious drugs.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 76%

31. Played strip anything.
32. Got paid to strip for someone.
33. Ran away from home.
34. Broken/sprained a bone.
35. Eaten sushi.
36. Bought porn.
37. Watched porn.
38. Made porn.
39. Had a crush on someone of the same sex.
40. Been in love (or thought you were).
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 68%

41. French kissed.
42. Laughed so hard you cried.
43. Cried yourself to sleep.
44. Laughed yourself to sleep.
45. Shot a gun.
46. Stabbed yourself.
47. Trash talked someone and then acted like their best friend the next day.
48. Watched TV for 9 consecutive hours.
49. Been online for 9 consecutive hours
50. Watched an animal die.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 61%

51. Watched a person die
52. Kissed and/or messed around somewhere with at least 1 person present.
53. Pranked somebody.
54. Put somebody in the hospital.
55. Snuck into someone’s room and/or your own room after being out.
56. Kissed somebody of the same sex.
57. Dressed preppy.
58. Dressed goth.
59. Dressed punk.
60. Been to a motorcross race.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 54%

61. Avoided somebody.
62. Been stalked.
63. Stalked someone.
64. Met a celebrity.
65. Played an instrument.
66. Ridden a horse.
67. Cut yourself.
68. Bungee jumped.
69. Ding dong ditched somebody.
70. Been to a wild party.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 47%

71. Got caught stealing something.
72. Kicked a guy in the balls.
73. Stolen a boyfriend/girlfriend from someone.
74. Went out with your friend’s crush.
75. Got arrested.
76. Been pregnant or gotten someone pregnant.
77. Babysat.
78. Been to another country.
79. Started your house on fire.
80. Had an encounter with a ghost.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 45%

81. Donated your hair to cancer patients.
82. Been asked out by someone that you never thought you’d be asked out by.
83. Cried over a member of the opposite sex.
84. Had a boyfriend/girlfriend for over 3 months.
85. Sat on your butt all day.
86. Ate a whole carton of ice cream all by yourself.
87. Had a job.
88. Gotten cut from a sports team.
89. Been called a whore.
90. Danced like a whore.
PERCENTAGE SO FAR: 39%

91. Been mistaken for a celebrity.
92. Been in a car accident.
93. Been told you have beautiful eyes.
94. Been told you have beautiful hair.
95. Raped somebody.
96. Danced in the rain.
97. Been rejected.
98. Walked out of a restaurant without paying.
99. Punched someone/slapped someone in the face.
100. Been raped.
PERCENTAGE: 33% Virgin

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I get a big kick out of my dreams. Especially the crazy, indecipherable ones. It's a big change from back over the summer when my brain was trying to sort out the fast-food procedures in my slumber, and I wound up setting every dream in some sort of restaurant, or, even worse, just wrapping tacos over and over continuously. That was just kind of disturbing how my brain was capable of such banality. (Yes, Ian, I used your word.)
The past couple of nights have given me some amazing dreams that I've tried to relive in my head during my waking hours. I actually used to keep a dreamlog, but I've gotten lazy as of late about writing down my dreams. Today, though, will be different, because these dreams are just too interesting not to share.

1) Scientists at war: Wednesday morning, after waking up momentarily to write down a line that was floating in my mind and to wake the boyfriend up so that he could get ready for early shift, I drifted back into sleep and dreamed that I was in a science lab with a bunch of scientists, experimenting on some sort of new chemical. There were lots of test tubes, beakers, and different colored liquids and powders of all sorts, and everyone was trying to find the combination that looked correct, as the formula was missing. I was looking for the formula, or the book that might contain it. I looked around, and each scientist had a different mix of chemicals, and they started to look kind of gross. A few of the test tubes actually exploded. I was looking through cabinets, drawers, files and files and files, but nothing. I was getting worried about the other scientists, when suddenly someone came in with a huge gun, and started shooting at the scientists. There was screaming and running now, but I was determined to find the damn formula. Then the shooter turned on me, but his bullets couldn't hit me. I just gave him a look of "what the fuck are you doing" and then looked at the wall, where there was a bunch of holes in the concrete, and the smell of sulphur. I fell down to the floor, but not from unconsciousness. I had suddenly noticed that a lone book was wedged under the table. I grabbed it, and the dream changed course.

2) Tough Guy Car: This might have just been a change in sleep cycle, but what I remember next is being in a house with a couple of people I haven't seen in a long time, and I was filling out paperwork to buy a car. They seemed kind of hesitant to sell me the car, so I kept arguing with them that I needed transportation. I left the house, and walked past the car in question. It was a kind of beat-up old junker, white, maybe from the 1970's. A friend of mine came up to the yard, hugged me and said he'd settle this matter.The people followed me and I journeyed into the next lot, where there were lots of cars just like the one in the yard. I tried to get them to sell me one of those, but they wouldn't. Then my mom showed up momentarily, and set a television on their front porch. They then agreed to take me for a test drive. But they drove. And it was a crazy ride, through woods, flying over ditches and bridges, until we got back to the town, and let the car keys go in my hand and sent me on my way.

3) Time travel blunder: This dream started just this past night. I was in this huge compound, like a hospital, lots of reception desks and blue walls. I was journeying through the halls, when someone in a lab coat came to me and asked me if I would like to be part of an experiment. I said yes. I was given a list of instructions, and put into a chamber. Then the chamber was turned on, and when I opened the door, the lab coat guy wasn't there anymore. I left the lab room, and went into the hall. I wandered through the halls again, and everything looked the same, but the people were different, and their clothes were different. I guess I had gone back in time. It creeped me out, but I set to the list, talking to certain people, saying the things on the list, making phone calls, moving things around. Then I watched things change. Someone tripped over something, the newspaper changed headlines slightly, and I thought my job was done. I put myself back into the chamber and turned the machine on to the current time, and when I got out the man in the lab coat looked frustrated. Even all the things I had done had not changed the timeline one iota. I then went into the future to see if anything had changed. Nothing. Back again. Nothing. Back even further. Nothing. Then I was sent to another planet to see if the list would change anything. Nothing. Another dimension. Nothing. I told the lab coat guy I was starting to get dizzy, and he said I had to do the experiment one more time, in present day. Still nothing. He pulled me out of the chamber, got in himself, and disappeared.

4) Waltzing in My Sleep: This one I know happened much later. This was a theatre dream, and I was onstage, getting prompts on what to say and do, and I wound up just gathering into a waltz with some guy who was dressed in a very nice suit. Some girls to my left were reading a magazine, and looked very out of place. Then I saw a close up of someone cutting open a pomegranate. Then the scene was switched to a church, where the same suit-dressed man was sitting next to me, trying to keep the kids in the row in front of him quiet, but he was not paying any attention to me. The preacher was talking about something, and one of the kids suddenly asked for a song. The preacher sang some random nonsensical song about birds, and the kid started smiling and clapping his hands. Then the preacher kept talking, and I kind of just looked at him for a second and moved to the end of the aisle, I was about to leave. I got a bit embarrassed, though, thinking someone would tell me to sit down. No one even looked at me. I was relieved. I left the church, but fell down the steps.

I'm reading dirty jokes. Highly intelligent fare.

"Alright you bitches and bastards, put your dicks and titties in the closet, my dad is upstairs wiping the shit off his face, and my mom is in the kitchen fucking the turkey!"

There's a student in medical school who wants to specialize in sexual disorders, so he makes arrangements to visit the sexual disorder clinic. The chief doctor is showing him around, discussing cases and the facility, when the student sees a patient masturbating right there in the hallway.
"What condition does he have?" the student asks. "He suffers from Seminal Buildup Disorder," the doctor replies. "If he doesn't obtain sexual release forty to fifty times a day, he'll pass into a coma."
The student takes some notes on that, and they continue down the hall.
As they turn the corner, he sees another patient with his pants around his ankles, receiving oral sex from a beautiful nurse.
"What about him?" the student asks. "What's his story?" "Oh, it's the same condition," the doctor replies. "He just has a better health plan."

These three guys were stranded on this island with no hope of getting off for a long time. Then this 500 pound guy came out of some bushes and said "Okay, I give you two choices......death or bongo."
The first guy said, "I have a lot to live for; my wife and kids are at home. I choose bongo."
The big guy takes him aside and they start banging it right there.
The second guy sees this and doesn't think it looks so bad so he also chooses bongo. Then two 550 pound guys come out of the bushes and they get it on right there.
The third guy is disgusted by this, so he chooses death. After saying this, fourteen 550 pound guys come out of the bushes screaming "DEATH BY BONGO!!!!!!"

Meh? They make no sense to my brain. And so I feel I must share them with you, my lovely internet audience.

 
The final picture is one I don't even remember taking. But, damn, I miss that hemp necklace. I've moved twice since I took this, and it's been dissolved into the ether. Or something.

Right at the moment when I thought I was fully a neato grown-up, something came back to bite me on my ass. This morning I got a phone call from my mother. Okay, let me start from the beginning. Emilie Autumn is coming to Little Rock tomorrow. Micah and I really really really really want to go. His van is crap. It's wonderful for in-town travel, but it won't go very fast for very long, so taking it all the way to the big LR is a bad idea. We thought about getting a ride from other people we know might be going, but they have promised more rides to the concert than they can deliver (that's the thing about being in your twenties. Most people don't quite have their own personality yet, so when someone says they're going to do something cool, everyone wants to do the same thing and be cool), so they were not an option. Then I suggested renting a car. It's relatively cheap, easy to deal with, complete freedom of movement. Wednesday night, however, my kid brother comes by my workplace to order food, and I suddenly get an idea. My brother has my parents' 2008 Chevy Malibu for now until his clunker of a truck can be fixed. It's reliable, has good gas mileage, and is right there. I ask my brother if we can trade vehicles. He says sure. He asks what we need it for, and his wonderfully thrash-guitar metal-loving former-jock-turned-anarchist ways kicked in and asked if he could just go with us. Sure. Thing is, his birthday is today, so he's going home, and then coming back. Unfortunately, to do this, he had to explain to my father why he's leaving early. That made for the phone call. I got the third degree about the concert, the car, money, blah blah blah, since I'm in Little Rock anyway why don't I go see my aunt, blah blah blah. I just wanted to save twenty dollars by buying a tank of gas for a pre-owned vehicle, dammit! I'm trying to be responsible yet deliciously carefree at the same time!

I have found lately that I love and hate with the same fire, from the same burning oil barrel. I guess I hate because I love, because I have created philosophical enemies with which to do battle. My Molotov Cocktail is metaphorically thrown because the very existence of the thing, event, institution, or concept (not really into hating people, just dislike, or hating something about them, or just hating the fakeness that surrounds their being) stifles or makes a mockery of something truly beautiful. And I can find many things in this universe that are truly beautiful, and that burns the pyre even higher. So what this means is that I constantly moved based on these aforementioned passions, and even tasks that seem banal or soul-killing into some philosophical clusterfuck that I must use my ultimate crazy-hippy-nature-goddess-mystical-whimsical powers to tackle.
On the flipside of this, I keep seeing too many people who are on auto-pilot, who go through their days as a cycle, an empty ritual that gets them only slightly ahead in the realm of... meh? I have no clue. There is no whimsicality to them, no spark, nothing that exists apart from survival and loading up the mirror, something to make them look attractive or cool. And I don't understand this mirror. It makes me sad. I can't even begin to explain this mirror, unless it's just my interpretation of the human ego.