Long story short of it, I'd like a trial run to see the interest of writers having their writing published in ePub 2.0/3.0 format. If you or anyone is interested, feel free to message me. I'd like to find up to five people who might want it, and I'll do it for 15 US$ flat, just to see how people feel about it.

The thought that obsessed my mind was an image of me running. Running away from my life in Saint Paul, running away from my debt, running away from the connections I have here; the main essence of it was running. The scenery was always changing: sometimes it was Uptown Minneapolis, sometimes the Mall of America, sometimes my neighborhood. Any road, I was running away from it all.

I think that was a pretty obvious thing: what I wanted was a solution to my problems, but my thoughts were obsessed with not solving them, but running away from them. Already I knew that that wouldn't work, because that doesn't solve the issues at all. Running away from life would just be running away from reality, from me, and from G_d; and those things are terribly impossible to run away from. I decided to just humor the thought for a little more when I had some time, whether it was during breaks or whenever I had some peace at home.

After a bit of time to actually take care of life, I thought of it again, and let it run a little deeper. Behind me, while I was running, there were plenty of people who were shouting for me to come back and return. And, yet, there weren't any that would try to chase me down and bring me back; all they could do is plead and yell for me. It made me sad—very sad—to think of it that way, but i wasn't really sure what any of them could do about my problems. Part of me felt unsurprised because, truly, there's not much that they could do other than provide the support I needed. Maybe that's why they were just standing without chasing me, and maybe, more truthfully, that's why I kept running despite their cries. Maybe it's a thought that the support that they were trying wasn't hitting on exactly what I needed. But I couldn't answer to myself what I needed right now. Or, perhaps, I was too afraid to give myself the honest answer.

So I took another break—a longer, days-long break—from the thoughts. When Casey, my roommate, left for Oregon, a wave of loneliness hit me again, like what happened when he left for the holidays the year before. I immediately wanted to go on Craigslist for a random hookup, not caring who it was, and not even craving it. It's like I wanted that intimacy, that personal-sensual feel of just being held and ‘loved’ like that, and, at that time, I was seriously humoring the idea. Was the small amount of ‘intimacy’ that a hookup could provide worth the empty, cold, and used feelings that would happen hours after? When I asked myself this question, I said ‘No,’ but the feelings still lingered on, and the question remained for a long while. I seriously wondered if, maybe, this time it will be worth it (and after checking the Personals section one night, the feelings steered towards ‘No’ stronger). But, even now, I still wonder.

Back to the meditations I went to examine my thoughts a little closer, a little deeper. This time, while running, someone finally did grasp my wrist and wouldn't let go. It was a man, and though I couldn't understand his words, I knew he wanted me to stay, and I knew I could trust him to hold me up. I cried—not during the meditation of the thought, but in the actual vision of it all—and fell into his arms. For once, that me in my thoughts felt like there was a man there to support him, a man that will listen and understand him, and a man that would let him feel intimacy and physical-sensuality without the cold and empty feelings that come from a random hookup. More importantly, he was a man that that me would be willing and open to revealing everything that pains the me in my thoughts. I don't understand why it was a man, but it needed to be one for that me. It needed to be someone strong, honest, intelligent, loving, compassionate, ambitious, non-manipulative, and all the things that I respect in others and that I try to strive for.

I don't think this is just loneliness, because if it was it would easily be fixed with good food, good drink, and good company. It's loneliness cranked up; it's loneliness with other emotions, and other needs that I don't think I'm getting. But I don't know what that need is, or, rather, as I've said, I don't want to answer to myself what I need. Or maybe it's I don't feel comfortable honestly admitting the need to myself or anyone. And yet I crave it.

I crave a strong, honest, intelligent, loving, compassionate, ambitious, and non-manipulative man in my life. I don't know how to answer the question of, ‘Why?’

I had this brainstorm in my traveling notebook during my travels today to and from work, and lots of improvised humming and tapping that I wish I could've recorded while at work doing nothing. I'm considering making a suite of pieces for these five races of Rym: Lutrai, Hoomiku, Koba, Cepn, and Skole. For the unfamiliar with Rym, information is here: http://www.fur.com/~ollie/rym3.html

I don't have much set in stone, because I'm trying to figure out what exactly I want to write, but the two that I have most developed are for Lutrai and Cepn, and a few ideas for Hoomiku. Sample titles are there.

Lutrai: Oau Rondo

Oau is a coconut mead created by the Lutrai. It's pronounced like 'Oh-wow' because of its cloyingly sweet mixture and potency, and it's ability to make all sorts of things rather amusing after drinking. For this piece, I wanted to utilise an African-Drumming heart-beat kind of piece in a Rondo/Ritornello style that's rather fast paced, polyrhythmic or polytempo, and energetic. Foregoing pitched instruments, I intend to have it be written for five or six different drums, plus toys, but with as many number of instruments in each that'll keep the piece balanced.

Cepn: Mourning Song

The title is a homophonic double entendre. This one I had planned to be a Shoenberg-style twelve-tone serialist piece composed of wooden winds and some kind of drone. Probably set for a maximum of five instrumentalists. Not sure if it'll be totally serialist (as in rhythm will be serialist too) but I want it to sound dissonant, contemplative, haunting, yet, also monotonous for the ones with the ears to hear it.

Hoomiku: Chiptune Fugue

A chiptune fugue would be interesting to say the least. The fugue is one of the more intellectually intensive styles of classical music but I'm, frankly, not sure how well it would transfer to a chiptune timbre. It might just end up being a distorted ambient piece, instead, though it might keep the fugue title. Hell, maybe there'll be some influence in it.

For the other two races, I'm not really sure what to do. Hell, not even sure if this project will bear fruit, but it might occupy my time regardless.

Edit: Here are some quick thoughts for Skole

Skole: Heroes of the North

Let's put in a synthesiser, a lead guitarist, a bassist, and throw in either some bagpipes or accordions or some other folky instruments. Imagining TURISAS. Can't write lyrics for beans, though.

Again, like last year, it dawns on me that the holidays are approaching. I haven't talked to my parents, or my dear sisters, in almost six months because my parents wouldn't respect my wishes. I'm already feeling the season hit me hard, knocking out so much of my energies. Thanksgiving won't be too bad; I'll have my roommate. But the entire month of December I'll be alone; my roommate is going back to Portland, Oregon, to visit his family, and I'll have no way to go with him because I work so much.

It just sucks, you know? The issue is not about love; I love my parents very much. But they need to learn to respect my wishes and stop trying to control and manipulate me. They've already took too much away from me, after all, and while I have forgiven them, they've made no genuine attempts at reconciliation, and going home for the holidays will just be another opportunity to use me.

And yet, being away from them, my sisters, the friends and people around the globe that I love so very much is heartwrenching when I know that I'm going to be alone again, with nobody to cook for, or stuff stockings for, or anything. I'll be sending some gifts to some good friends through the post, but otherwise I'll be in my apartment, looking at my little tree with little ornaments, and the dinner for ten that I prepared just for me, and saying, to myself, “Merry Christmas, Don.”

I should be thankful that I have a job that allows me to have my own place, to buy my food, to buy presents for the ones I love; that I have my health which lets me keep going; and that I have means to talk to others, making the distance just a little less. But, seriously, this sucks. I went through it last year; I don't know if I can take it again this year.

But, as all things, this too shall pass. G_d sends you what you need, even if it's not from where you want it. If I can trust that and keep my eyes open, it'll be alright. I hope.

All is well, all is well, all manner of being shall be well. This prayer better be true, because I've been repeating it this entire day, and will be repeating it at all waking moments for the next two months.

I'm going on a five-day retreat with my (now-ex) boss, one of my best friends and critical allies, and another good friend and critical ally; to Grand Marais, Minnesota, United States, next week, from September 23 to September 26. We'll be at a beautiful cabin next to a lake with trails and a full working kitchen and lots of fun things to do when we're not in-retreat mode.

During that time, I'm planning to bring only my Cell Phone for emergencies only and my Newton Messagepad 2100 for journal keeping. It'll be a wonderful weekend with nature, the lakes, lots of praying and reading with my boss, crying together (for we've had a ton of hardships, together and separately), cooking and making meals together, and just, well, healing. I'm hoping and praying that it'll be fruitful, and will help me.

I think I'll be taking some sketchbooks with me, and buying a new large sketchpad and some charcoals. Perhaps the time away from the computer, my job, the city, and the significant stressors I have will simply give me the creative energy to just be artful. Maybe I'll take my violin and my guitar, too, and try writing some music and performing for my friends and others. Part of me wants to take them, but part of me thinks I shouldn't and just concentrate on the me.

So, dear fur friends, what do you think I should bring with me? What is a definite no-no to bring? Should I draw, and, if I do, what should I be drawing? Is there anyone or anything that needs prayer or well-wishing while I'm gone? Anyone that needs some love sent their way by, in my opinion, the best people on earth? Don't worry; we're humble about our pride.

Also! What should I make for food? I kinda want to spend an afternoon or evening or morning baking some bread—probably some baguettes for the entire weekend, some pastry for the mornings too—but I don't know what to plan for my turn to make dinners and lunches and teas. Part of me wants to see what's local and buy there, but another wants me to plan, because I love to impress.

One day, in the past, I decided I was tired of crying. I disliked the discomfort of tears as they streamed down my face. I abhorred the pitying attentions others gave me when my face contorted with sobs. I hated each catch of breath as my chest heaved with every word I wanted to say, but could've never expressed in a language understandable.

In this way, I also despised others who cried. Or, rather, others who were made to cry. I consoled them with embraces and with words and with ears, which were the only simple cures I understood to help with crying. Compassion grew in the midst of suffering.

I smiled, because to not smile would send me to tears. I laughed, for to not laugh would make me catch my breath. I worked, because if I didn't work I would not breathe—for I'd choke in grief. People saw strength, compassion, humility; and the people said 'You give me so much strength, you know' or 'Don't cry, because, if you do, I might start crying too' . I saw, hidden behind these things, that same little boy in the past who, despite the decision, was still crying and sobbing.

Can I embrace this boy no matter how hard he flails? Can my compassion make him genuinely, instead of in facade, smile? Can I wipe away those tears he'll never admit to having?

There's a lot of mediocrity that I feel whenever I type something on the keyboard, or lift up my stylus and draw something, or even when I pick up my guitar or violin and try to play something. Even when there's nobody watching or listening or reading that feeling is there, and it simply won't go away.

Even in other things—like, of all things, grocery shopping—there's this odd feeling of being judged for something so mundane as properly picking the right kind of produce, or the correct kind of meat, or a good pairing for beef and celery. It just feels like there's someone or something there watching me, interfering with getting in proper practice, or simply ignoring the people that are watching and concentrate on the feelings that feel oh-so-good to have—those feelings that flourish when one is truly enjoying the things they do without trying to enjoy them.

I guess I'm just tired, eh? Tired of the mundane and ordinary. I wonder if this is what Haruhi Suzumiya felt like all the time.

On a lighter note I'm seriously considering going to Bear Boot Camp in October, but I'm a bit skittish about going because I'd know nobody going there. Part of me feels like I'd make friends and have a good time there. Another part is saying that I'm not 'bear' enough to be welcomed. Yet another part is simply too shy to dive into a weekend of fun with strangers. I don't know.

I'm starting to understand why people write journal entries, status updates, and things like this: even if you know that nobody will read it, and know that nobody would (or, in my opinion, should) care unless, it's comforting to think that somewhere out there someone is reading it and saying 'I understand' . Kind of how AA and Al-Anon help out their members, I guess.

Anyways, I'm doing exactly that right now. Things are feeling like shit (even if my mind knows that things are not), so I've retired to listening to ABBA's 'The Winner Takes It All' . Perhaps the catharsis will help. Might take a walk later, too, and smoke a pack or seven. A hyperbole, yes, but still…

… What I wouldn't give to make life itself kiss my arse. Forty-eight-or-longer hour weeks working at the largest mall in the United States plus taking care of other duties is driving me bonkers. At least automatic payments are set up so I, at least, don't have to worry about my bills at all. Good job planning ahead there.

Though my material/survival needs are taken care of, I'm sorely lacking in some mental and emotional energies right now. Things are good outwardly and I can function well with my roommates. I'm a bit of a mess inside right now though. Listlessness, longing, loneliness, other words that start with an 'l' are invading my heart—not to mention my libido, but that's another story. I want hugs and kisses and cuddling and watching Casablanca with a glass of wine and a general break from all this hustle and bustle so I can simply enjoy the things that I've earned. Also, I want someone.

Well, I guess it's off to Craigslist or my favourite MUCK for a one-night stand or some TS, respectively. After I do the laundry, the dishes, wipe the counters, clean the kitchen floor, clean the bathroom floor and porcelain things, clean my room, dust, make dinner, take a shower, and many other things.

So, just to reiterate, this is me right now: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/4075240/

I have a block. Seems like life in general is giving me an everything block. Gimme something to make or do — I'll do it. Eventually...

Maybe I should do that small little comic that I remember someone pestering me to finish.

Because I'm such a follower.

1. Are you single or taken?
I'm single, yet surrounded in love.

2. Chocolate or flowers?
If I had to choose, flowers. I hang around chocolate enough at work.

3. Will you do anything special for Valentines Day?
Considering that it is a Sunday, Chinese New Year, and Valentines day on February 20, I will probably do something special. Probably go to the bar and enjoy Valentine's Karaoke night with the cool people at my favourite bar.

4. Do you like anyone?
Yes.

5. Were you dating anyone last Valentines?
No.

6. What would be your dream Valentines date?
To fall asleep on someone's shoulders while we ride public transit to and from our destination.

7. Do you make a big deal about Valentines?
It's more or less a commercial holiday, so I don't make a big deal of it. However, it does give me an excuse to give little gifts to the people that are precious to me in life.

8. Have you ever had a secret admirer?
Counting all the love letters I've gotten from creepy old men at work, I can safely say 'yes' to this question.

9. Would you ever write someone a love letter?
All letters I write are letters of love; every word that leaves my lips, immortalised on paper, are endearing sighs that bathe every living thing, and the reality of life itself, in my burning love for it all.

10. Do you believe in Cupid?
Not in particular; I'm a Romantic, but not irrational.

11. Do your parents give you presents on Valentines?
Oh, ew. No.

12. Do you still send out Valentines cards?
On occasion I do. Though I like little trinkets and gifts more than cards, and hugs. I love giving hugs.

13. Do you like candy hearts?
They're rather dry candies, but I do love munching them.

15. Is Valentines day depressing?
It's only depressing if you let it get to you, and delude yourself to thinking that you can't be happy without another person. That said, I still feel a bit depressed seeing couples on Valentine's day, but I'm not troubled by it.

16. How do you feel about PDA?
It all depends. Is it hot? Sometimes, I like to observe, and critique a couple's making-out abilities. Other times, especially when it seems very weird, I wonder how in the world couples got together. It's an awkward amusing time. Mostly awkward. More awkward than amusing.

17. How is your love life?
I'm quite content in being alone, and the addition of a boyfriend would only add to that contentment. I don't need another fur to fill some empty void inside me; I'd be in a relationship because I value the other person and what they believe -- not because they do something for me.

18. Have you ever been dumped on Valentines?
I don't quite remember, actually.

19. How many roses would you want?
Actually, embarrassingly so, I would be most atwitter if I received a gigantic bouquet of roses, while roses fall from the sky in some odd fashion, sprinkling over me. Hey, I have my mushy side that I like to humour, too.

20. Will you have a partner next Valentines?
My partners in life are the people who smile back when I smile towards them. So, I'm never alone, and never lonely, so long as I keep my eyes open.

Well, not really, but that's what went through my mind this morning when I was eating my fair trade and organic breakfast of a tangelo, toaster pastry, granola, yogurt, and protein shake; and sketching away.

I'm having a hard time using my mind's eye make an image of more than one body doing something with each other, so I'm figuring it's either observation time, or other-drawing reference time. I usually prefer the former, because I feel like I'm cheating sometimes when I use other drawings as references, but, seriously. What would I do to observe? Ask people on the streets to strip down and cuddle? Because, I'm pretty sure that their response won't be "Oh, bless your cotton socks, of course I'll let you see me naked and hugging another man." while I'm taking pictures and sketching away.

I guess I could just watch porn, but porn is so awkward and boring… The stories are never intellectually stimulating, the romance is superficial, and it feels like a product designed so people can paw off.

"Emmerich blushed ... then blushed even harder as a baker or cat-food-making in tradition that I wish to terminate him."

I seriously don't remember how those words happened, but that's what I typed while I was half-dozing from roleplay. I can't even understand what I'm trying to say in that sentence.

Long story short, no sleep for 24 hours is bad for the brain.

As my vacation draws nearer to a close, I just realised that the majority of my purchases have been food products (Marionberry Jam, Salmon Jerkey, and Oregon Hazelnuts) and books (Andy McNab's Bravo Two Zero, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's Good Omens, Luke Crane and David Petersen's Mouse Guard Roleplaying Game, and Rumi's Fragments, Ecstasy). Needless to say, I had a wonderful time hanging out with all my friends, and I'm so very thankful and blessed that, even as a person who, ultimately in this world, has nowhere to rest my head, I will almost-always find a welcoming home no matter where I can smile and make friends.

On a less sentimental note, I'm looking for Mouse Guard players.

So far so good! I've explored the city, met two of my dearest friends, will be meeting two more tomorrow and Sunday, and I'm still under my expected expense budget!

I wish I could see more people, and had more time to visit each and every one of my dearest friends on the Internet, furry or otherwise, but, alack, vacations only last so long.

I'll be more-active again on the Internet on Tuesday, and boy do I have stories to tell — or stories to make up.

Just because I have such an odd definition of love doesn't mean I don't suffer from, what I affectionately call, loving the idea of love. I call it many names: falling in love with love, loving love, desiring acts of love, the sleeping-in-public-transit affliction. Possibly its harshest name that I give it is being blind.

I found myself today, with every breath, with every step, and with every smile and happy sight I saw in my surroundings; falling in this kind of blindness. I see two beings, holding hands, laughing, hugging, kissing, and enjoying the company of their beloved. I sigh, afterwards, and say "My... Wouldn't it be wonderful to have someone to kiss, and hug, and caress, and laugh with like that? Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to go home to, to embrace deeply, and say 'My dearest, you are so special, and I love you with my every breath." Then, I grunt, and say "Wouldn't it be wonderful, to be blind, and never-ever see again; to amuse myself in this distortion of love?"

In all these cases, I don't love that person that I would perform those actions with; notice that there was no person there listed. I am in love with the actions, the feelings, the sudden flash of pleasure released from those actions; I am in love with the idea. It wouldn't matter anymore who the person is, or what the person values, or how the person actually feels about you. What only matters is that I am getting these lovely, lovely things that bring me much pleasure. Is that really love — to be with someone just because of those things, and to be blinded to the entire reality of the world and, especially, to the awesome uniqueness of all beings? I think not.

Love requires freedom, love requires awareness. Love requires that eyes be open to the entire realm of reality. With my eyes open to reality, I understand that I am happy and I require not such delusions. If I wish to love someone, it would not be because someone does these things for me, but because I choose to love him, because it is right to love him, for his entire free being and ever-changing soul is so wonderful to my eyes that I dare not imprison him with my superficial desires that cause blindness.

I know this to be true because, if I open my eyes and actually see, I know that I have so many friends I can call for this insanely stupid request: "Meet me at the train station. We'll ride all the way to the end, and I just want to hug and hold you. You are my friend, and I love you." Because I love my loved ones, this action happens. It isn't the reverse: because these actions happen, I love you.

Love comes first. Love comes first. Love comes first...

I just checked some MUCK room descriptions and things I've written before my vacation. All I can say is I'm stupefied, and ashamed, that my writing is so bloody shoddy.

When I'm finished with vacation, and when I have time this weekend, I'm going to fix this artistic-literary sin. Gawds, I've never written something that bad since I drunkenly wrote a 10-page paper on the relationship of Buddhism and Christianity. Then again, maybe I write well enough because I managed an A on that paper. Either that or people are dumb.

I just got on the bus to Chicago; it was delayed two hours. That delay put a damper on visiting my furred and non-furred friends, and I'm suffering from RP withdrawal. Quick! SMS RP with me!

Starting Monday next week, I will be extremely, most extremely, absent from the Internet, save for my Twitter account (which surprisingly connects me enough with all my Internet dealings so I won't be totally isolated from the Blogonetz). For the first time in for ever I'm heading on vacation! I'll be heading over to Chicago, Illinois, for four days; return to the Twin Cities, Minnesota, for three days; then fly over to Portland, Oregon, for seven days. Depending on my whims, I might visit Washington or California as well.

Wish me luck on my trip! Aside from my plane ticket and bus passes, I'm essentially backpacking it and couch surfing with some friends and connections I have in the area. If you're a friend, and want me to see you, and you're in my trip trajectory, feel free to contact me!

I've been on a love ballad fix for a very long while now (Sometimes When We Touch, Ocean Deep, Spanish Eyes, and Paint My Love are the particulars that get to me often). They're my guilty pleasures because I like them even when they reek of oversentimentality. It just so happens, however, that when I got into this ballad fix, people started declaring their 'love' to me. That, my dear friends and colleagues, makes me feel uncomfortable.

It would help to know exactly what I think of love to understand my confusion. At the expense of losing some possibly-important details and nuances, I'll try to sum it up as succinctly as possible:

Love is the heartfelt appreciation and admiration of a free man's entire being: their values, their work, their personality, their pride, their sense-of-life, etc.

Please note two things here. First, the word free. "Love can only exist in freedom" , says Anthony De Mello, a Jesuit priest whose works have been condemned by the Catholic church as harmful and destructive. A free person is much like the sunset, a snow fall, a bite of good food. The sunset and scenery always changes, each individual snowflake changes, even each re-making of a particular dish changes in each iteration. Likewise, man is ever-changing in subtle ways. The sunset, snow fall, and food can only be enjoyed if one keeps it free; if one strives to imprison it, not only is it impossible, but now you've become blind to the new ways it can bring you joy in the future because you so cling to how it is now. Likewise, to bind men is to forever be blind to who they are and how they're changing. How can you love someone when you don't see them, but you see your idea of them, and you strive to always keep that person fitting that idea? A person who I love will be free to be themselves, to do as they like, to choose as they please, and to love who they wish.

Also note in my summation that there is no condition the man has to obtain to get my love. Nothing. At. All. Love, the admiration and appreciation of another free being, to me, is not something gained because 'one thinks I'm special' or 'one has done so much for me' or 'one is a very good fuck' or 'one is so nice' . Wake up! See that those ideas blind you to the potential that, in some days, a being cannot be nice, or will not think you're special, or cannot do something for you. Is it really fair to restrict someone to always thinking special of you? Is it fair to imprison them to your idea of them, rather than appreciating their ever-changing themness? I think not. So love is not something I give for something I get (it is more complex than that, but to elaborate on this sentence would require a segue toward some teachings of Ayn Rand. In not-quite-adequate three sentences: Man trades with other free men for their goods and services. Out of this trade man recognises another man's values, ethics, sense of life, and virtues. The appreciation of the values one recognises is Love.) .

I am free; I need nobody or nothing to attain my happiness, for my happiness is dependent on nothing outside of me. I am free to look at every snowflake, flower, building, dish of food, stranger, and friend and smile, appreciating them for that moment, instead of imprisoning or manipulating them to keep my idea of them.

In a sense, then, I love everyone and everything. Apathy? It might look like apathy on the outside because I think nothing so special that I must imprison it, because I desire nothing so desirous that I will manipulate it to stay. In apathy and in total, absolute, love, you love everything equally. In apathy, not at all. In total, absolute, love, you love everything with the being of your soul.

I currently have these programs at my disposal on my iMac for almost every sketching desire that comes over me:

* Rita — Quite possibly my favourite, and what I use the most often.
* Pixen — For pixel art; haven't done much with that yet.
* Seashore — Because running X11 on OS X just to use GIMP is horrendously jarring and non-conforming to other applications that follow the most basic parts of Apple HIG.
* GIMP — Really, I never really use it; Seashore does most of the things I need to do.

My conundrum, however, is while I would rather use Rita for everything that I want to do, the lack of layers is really hurting; I feel like I need to constantly erase and recolour just to get something right. Using GIMP on OS X is a big hassle in my opinion and Seashore, by design, of no fault of its own, doesn't support tab ... Oh... Wait... Never mind that; scratch that; call me dumb, even.

So... Well, in any case, GIMP still sucks on OS X in my opinion, and Seashore is a bit lacking in features and effects compared to GIMP (though it's not really a fault of Seashore). Other than buying (for I am a poor boy too pa-ra-ta-tam, tam *drums*) or pirating a particular piece of software most people know about, do others have any other options for me to experiment with — perhaps something inbetween GIMP and Seashore?

It finally hit me, in the midst of holiday shopping, gift making, gift selling (since I work at a candy shop), and general decorations bombarding my senses, that this will be my first Christmas that I will be celebrating alone. There are so many hardships that came up this year, so many struggles, that made me essentially cut off my immediate family. I miss my sisters so very much, and I'm sorry for them that they can't see me -- that my family will, essentially be incomplete for them. My parents, I can't really miss too much; they're the reason for my separation.

It's funny... I should've known that this would be a consequence of my actions. Getting out of my parents' grasp was the healthiest choice for me, but it came at a price of not being with my loved ones for a very long time, possibly ever again.

For the people who have seen my roleplaying behaviour as of late, this kind of explains my behaviour. Bad memories hit me during winter -- memories of wishing that a semblance, and illusion of family, would stay in my life for ever. It's funny. I knew that there would be a day when I'd realise that the family I had will never be the family I wanted. I just thought I was prepared for this moment. The knowledge of knowing, though, that I have no one to go home to, no one to call family, no one to give presents to, no one to pretend to be Santa for, no one to make dinner for, and no one to spend the holidays with, is really hard.

I don't know... I guess I just needed to let it out. I'm not letting my feelings distract me from what I need to do, but there's a feeling of loneliness about me -- a feeling that's very hard to just let be.

So, way out from nowhere, I get this melody in my head: mi fa-re so, fa-mi re-do do, mi re so-so so. Somehow, that melody was enough to remind me of a show that I sorely missed when it was cancelled: Capitol Critters. Is it bad that I've been spending the whole morning looking for anyplace to watch it, all because of a case of Musical Turrets? Well, I guess people have done weirder things.

Watching the introduction to Capitol Critters, I was suddenly reminded of some more shows that I used to watch as a kid: SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron, Disney's Adventures of the Gummi Bears, and some others. I'm a bit saddened, however, to find that I can barely find episodes of said shows anywhere.

Well, YouTube will be enough, for now.