To whom it may concern,

Though, I would never challenge you regarding difficulties, or dare to do so to anyone, suffice it, mine have been particularly rough. But, I am in a sense glad for them. Do not mistake me for a masochist though. But, like everyone else, I delight in having the opportunity to overcome. I even slapped the label of problem solver on my living resume. It is really through such distance and resistance that my mind firms in it's resolve.

I actually feel closer to you right now because of impossibility. Let me expound, I turned to things that, remind me of how it would feel to be with you because everything around me is so seemingly terrible. I have at my lowest point decided that the only way to endure anything is with love, and that means doting on you in any way I can.

Where do lonely socks go?

This is a short story about where missing socks go. The story is told by a lonely sock.

     Once upon a time, there were two socks which were created in pairs, like all Socks. It can safely be said that they were made for one another. In the sock factory where all of the machine created socks are placed together to be sold. This pair was placed in a bag with other couples and shipped to America. While in this bag, they heard stories of speculated futures. Majority of socks believed that it was desirable to be useful, which included being worn on rugged feet and forced to endure terrible sounding things, but of al lof the things that they heard no one even mentioned the cruel fate they might endure and both were afraid of. What if they were lost and paired with a similar sock but not eachother!! This seemed almost too cruel a fate to talk about. It did seem likely though. Nothing really distinguished them from the other pairs in the bag.

     Finally, they were purchased and the package was opened and they were finaly donned. Each night as they were removed they got to spend time in the "clothes hamper" together and they would discuss the day from their perspective.

     Then one fateful morning as they were being carried to the washing machine one was dropped! Panic struck. But, ultimately both socks knew this could happen, and they both haddecided to endure their consecuences well, for what could they do anyway?

     Later that day Suzy was washing her new green trousers and saw a missing sock laying on the laundry room floor, so she picked up the sock and put it in her small load.

A cool story that I want to write

What is done is not seen, but what I don't do is seen and noted. This idea is very cool and would be appreciated by stay-at-home mothers.

I just thought of another one. All of these things are happening and I am wrongfully accused, and so I thought it would make an awesome prank and story to mess with someone's computer and change settings with huge and funny consequences, none of which the offended who seems the offender can really be held accountable. My mind drew parallels with multiple personality disorder, and how it is nearly impossible to discern of solve.

My struggle today

I am frustrated with language to describe a person. That greatly changes depending on who you ask or even when you ask.

What part remains constant and definable?

I struggle with words like good, loving, or nice. Or what about dependable?

Grrrr! Not worth the effort. I'll go back to music or is that like going back to crochet because knitting seems,more difficult.

You might cry

You might cry at funerals,
At weddings or the such...
You might cry when a child leaves for school
Or for starving if you're Dutch
...

But, of all of these deaths
Something lives a new.
Of all of these deaths
Only one is sad enough to make me cry.

...

Loosing love won't kill you dead
But, even death brings life.
One wrong choice can break a heart
...

While at my desk....

I decided that I would continue composing if only for my pleasure, it is more or less what you might call a hobby, alot like acting is for me, something that I do because I enjoy, so stinking what if I am extremely good at it,that is not the point, or will it be with my desire to continue composing crapy music. It is something I love. I want to keep a written history in music as well as words so I will find a way to deposit them here. As all of my other ideas have for various reasons, the most common being a no longer used medium, been lost to me. I just wish things would stop trying to improve so quickly. Let the world enjoy things for a while, yes, we all know they could be better, that proves nothing to change them. I gotta go get whatever is beeping at me in the microwave. Hey! now there is something imagined already just waiting to happen! Why not focus your energy into a simulator instead of a new operating system? The old system is fine we still have straglers who "thunk". If you know long term things are.going to change, make it a more permanent; Backing up a bit, I would really love a simulator! there are atoms everywhere not being useful, unless the understood use is something like gravity, always there, but taken for granted, thus not noticed until it goes away.

Stargate

Being born is best metaphorized (new word, you saw it here first!) by stepping through a stargate. We enter a new world and have only us to solve coutless dilemmas. I sure wish I had such teams to aid me, but I get to solve the problems entirely on my own! But Each problem could be likened unto an episode and the teams could metaphorically be solving our problems!

I conclude that I use what I see around me to uderstand what I don't. It makes more sense to just use the script(ures) though.