I'm about to post a few lyrics to songs I've written this past week. They're definitely different from my normal style when writing poetry, which is necessitated by the meter of the music.

This whole confidence thing is new and strange, but I like it a lot.
This week I had two interviews at Stone Creek Coffee, got hired there, quit Target (...finally), had the confidence to jam with someone spontaneously (it was kick-ass, too), and got offered a gig informally teaching guitar to someone's 13 year-old-going-on-30 daughter. In my spare time I wrote a few songs complete with lyrics and vocal melodies, something I normally struggle with.

Oh, and I'm finally in therapy; I must say that my only regret is not starting sooner. Like, say 5 years ago? Maybe 20... There's no point in "shoulda, woulda, coulda" thinking, but I'm realizing how badly I neglect myself sometimes.

Stood down a two hour kick of intense, cramping nausea like a champ last night. (maybe I'm getting my period.) It's interesting how discomfort can induce an almost shamanic focus in the willing heart. The things in the resulting journal entry have a clarity and insight that I haven't enjoyed for a long time, bordering on psychic power. The colour of psychic power is green, by the way. Not red or black (anymore). Whatev.

When you're tempted to balance the everlasting souls of scarecrows on that blade edged with righteousness on one side and hatred on the other, (that cankered and blackened self-defense) honey- put the sword down. There's no one to fight here but straw men.