Paint the town cyan

...it's the only color left. And with the refusal of the overly-white bred to even discuss sex slavery (for fear of offending the Princes, oh that). Might as well just keep living in the now and pretending that clean drinking water is a choice for everyone, isn't that right, fat cat?

Kanye, Kanye West. No clue how you'll ever, ever make your comeback. Not with the way your spine shivers at mere mention of reality, you know, fact? Look it up in the dictionary, I'm sure it's written in English. Hold on for a second while I waste my time to check.

Um yes, yes it is. Right under bitch slap. They've rearranged the entire order, and guess whose comfy at the bottom, your friend. So comfy, she didn't even realize that. Never bothers her even a teensy, eensy bit, someone more mature would probably like that.

Someone who wants no simpler life than to fully enjoy the experience of taking her kids to get their hair cut. Without being interrupted by Drew Barrymore who has nothing more profound to report on, than her flatbread being too bland.

Being unsure is better than hyperventilating

At least I get to be unsure out loud. Otherwise my thoughts just spin in unhelpful directions, with no anchor to ensure that I can handle it. Where's God? Processing everything, that can't be Him. It can't make sense that I'll be led into thinking "this could be the path", then right after it sinks in all the way, not even partially, another voice says "no it isn't".

Why do I have to walk them all, I ask.

I know the end result, and am quite sure I'm avoiding that path. Who am I to love children so much, then be forced to watch open-eyed as one is taken from me?

Still Saturday

Don't know why I don't want to leave the library. Probably the chaos at home. It's nobody's fault that my healthy, thriving family is being healthy and thriving in contrast. It's the part that gets me stuck. Like, so many years invested in lifting children up, to their highest, most secure, happiest child selves.

And what am I, an elitist? No room in my life for the discordant? That's what I mean about the perfect order to things, the getting used to life with shots, and accepting the many realms of possibility. Living in unique worlds is not only something I've mastered, it's probably the most important key. Or, it should be.

Moving forward without that light, that just stays there, and sets me free. Knowing that I get to carry on with that insight, the all day long distraction that always supports me. A wonderous world of delightful opportunities. And I'll pass that on to my young one, with prayers that it doesn't pass on before me.

Gotta look at both sides eventually, why not let it hit all the way home. Perfectly fits my philosophy.

Truth is...

All I really can concentrate on, what I need/want/pray for most. In my spare time, when not writing more dramas than a human can barely comprehend on this earth. Is lullabies.

I know it sounds ridiculous, that parents of bean sprouts need to imagine what it's like to have a precious newborn's life threatened...or to deal with what comes after as you chase for quality of life. But, it's in there.

Inside me, so don't take it if you don't particularly want to go there. But I'll be singing anyway, even though my voice sucks, just so someone precious can hear a rhythm that's familiar, and reliable, from its parent.

In between everything else, that will be important.

Finding the faith

You can't imagine the week I've had, most of it beginning yesterday. No, all of it began straight up yesterday...the good, the bad, and especially the evil.

First, I'd like to thank FX, not only for featuring my favorite man in fire uniform, but also a new favorite taxi cab driver. Why I hold out on myself, I'll never know. Puts everything in proper light, finally, at last.

The bad, well it's worse than I thought. Worse than I'd ever expected in my "boy, do doctors have poker faces when they lie" new phase. Oh, it's beginning, yes it sure is.

Am I grateful for the week spent oblivious? Am I surprised? About what I can't say, I can only write a dialogue for a play, no a sketch of some drama, okay?

Standards

Turns out schooling is 100% centered on taking care of diabetic children. Oh sure, there are only two students in the whole complex association of underpaid professionals, who have diabetes. Was that comma supposed to go there? Did it separate the good from the evil momentarily, so you could think straight? Dear reader, please know I mean you.

Eventually, it will seem true, and then you can thank the comma, dear reader. The comma will someday replace the exclamation point (which doesn't defend its own turf like it's supposed to). Imagine that for weirdness in realtime, the criminal-ized exclamation point, totally usurped by the comma, what will become of sentences now.

How I miss thinking out of unfair boxes for my reasons, the joy shall return, it will,...

Crap!!! The comma simply cannot exist without three dots to make it possible, those rules. I can't offend them, I can only respect what our nature defends and no wonder,

Yes, this would never work. Feel familiar? Couldn't possibly replace exclamation points with commas, nope never. Forever that will be true until it no longer pleases the king. Of England you ridiculous, hopelessly forgiven rule-breaking fools!

No cure yet, and you?

Spent all day yesterday in defiant conviction, could diabetes feel this? The cure was in there for most of my waking hours, limitations and boundaries all set, right? Stem cells would never, ever and insulin would get this. Never, ever right?

Even if the diabetic's heart was literally lifted from her own body and transferred against its own will to the cure's destination. Which I hadn't known was possible until conviction held, but couldn't win. That was a suicide scene at the end, as a result of being taken advantage of, cures have standards they must adhere to, or else.

Or else death. What could cures and death possibly have in common anyway...just free-associatin' here. Well, the cure would only produce logic and joy, and of course patience. For there would be many lined up for the cure, many lost souls among us, you know. The cure needs to have that worth. It does.

The cure needs to be lived or it will never happen, just how the integrity of energy and cures work. Hey, I don't want to take the medicine anymore than a diabetic wants to be sick. But alignment of principles into collective agreement of what's right, what's best...that's what I'm referring to.

Just imagining as I write all this, either hearing it from a higher power or just makin unnecessary shit up. I tend to do that, all part of my dishonest character right, it's realness, know me through and through, or don't. Cure.

Death, well, it's a choice AND a last resort. Not mine, obviously, too much to live for. Would never, ever put myself in a situation, consciously anyway, free will intact...where I'd have to give up to get. Or sacrifice for anything other than God's will for my life. Which is on the fast-track, lemme tell you (finally found a decent church).

Pray for the cure everyone who believes in miracles and stuff. Start now, maybe devote the next week to it, and I will too. It might work, the insight that's needed may fall from the sky. I gave technology MWF, perhaps out of decency I'll get seven days back.

God did it, why can't we. I mean I