off_the_bus ztupid BLATHER MAKES ME SAD I don't know what it is. Be it the hue of blue Be it the soft artificial glow of my moniter cutting the midnight darkness Be it the citrus burn of mudslinging criticism on the deep cuts of self-deprication... Whatever be it... (it be?) I lose my words upon arrival. I always come here with the intention to blathe about life, my current triumphs, my recent losses, my internal conflicts, my external joys. My insane sister with her quick temper, idealistic views, and quickness to judge everyone from her high horse. I come here with the intention of sharing with you my news of a summer teaching position starting in June. And the rapidly approaching production of my first children's video, and the corresponding album. I'd like to share my thoughts, my feelings, my opinions, my loves, my fears, and my ideas. but gone, gone, gone they be. (be they?) So I read. silently reading. But why is blather only now making me sad, when it once offered comfort? Perhaps it was the sadness that I found comforting. After all, the worst effect of depression is the desire to continue being depressed. So when I don't feel depressed, I come here and forget the beautiful words I so wanted you to read. Because I am taken aback. I am overwhelmed by the blue, caught off guard, not expecting... not desiring the blueness of it all. I got a car the very color of blather. Purely by coincidence, I assure you. I love my new car, but it is a bittersweet love, because riding the bus has become so much a part of me. Which is remarkable in and of itself, because of the struggle it took to adapt to taking the bus. An ADD OCD child who grows up to fail his driver's test several times and sits on the school bus senior year among the freshmen atop his throne of failure only to continue public transportaion well into adulthood (despite obsessive germaphobic tendendies to avoid physical contact with strangers) causing occupational conflictions due to lack of reliable transportation due to his own ineptitude due to chemical imbalance due to inherited genetic defects, thanks for the mental disorder, daddy. (anything to keep from blaming myself) So that's why I rode the bus so that's why I wrote on_the_bus which was to be my new frequent blathe My new column My new ztupid_question but alas a break in the clouds of chemical depression, and not only do I not NEED this place, like I once needed it so badly, not only that, but once I get here I... B L A N K. So that's why I have nothing to blathe today. Sorry I couldn't give you something to read. Maybe next time 040123 ... misstree i still love you. and i loved reading the above. there's a lot of pain in these pages. sometimes it swallows everything else, washes everything away in the blues. you could start a page full of boquets. just a little place to yawp to yourself, where those of us who miss you can come and sniff and grin. and in my personal life, i've found that cars are good meditative areas, and have a tendency to keep a sharpie and spiral notebook by me, so's i can jot down notes of thoughtthings i want to explore later. perhaps in_the_car could become the ext evolution of your receptacle? but i do understand. it's only my increasing tendency to be incapable of shutting my gaping facehole, and the weird little drive to put something that *isn't* sadness and pain into these pages, that keeps me writing. and every so often, my meaner tendencies come out and i snap at someone and hurt them and then i slink back for a bit to grumble and sigh. i'm babbling. just know that you are both cherished and missed. *curtsies* *peck on the cheek* 040123 ... jane off_the_wagon 070724 what's it to you? who go blather from