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Moving Wench Day 12/2: I MOVED. GO _HERE_ ^_^ It's prettier and easier to read. I promise. Also, there are no ads. So, change your bookmarks and links everyone!!! I'm not updating this page anymore.
Domestic Wench Day 11/29: The sounds of 6 month baby waking up and a 7, 9, and 11-year old playing the sims, with a Dorris Day movie so far in the background as to almost simply be a blond voice buzzing.
I'm so dazed and confused as to not know how far to go and what I really want to talk about anymore. So, I'll make my reporting professor happy by using subheads since I suppose this could be considered a feature peice.
The X Chromosome
Apparently, I have one. My family on my mother's side tends to be tight and matriarchal. Someone I managed to be the only one born in a certain decade which leaves me stranded between the adult and kids table. All of my close cousins are much younger than me and all the others have already spawned their own. The second set comes only during my Nany's incredible desert section. No less than eight desserts every year. Then again, there are upwards of twenty of us at that point. My Nany amazes me. This Thanksgiving was just as large as all the others and prepared while the woman is undergoing chemo. My 6-month-old cousin dangled off her hips as the two danced around to the Andrew sisters. I can only hope to have such strength when I'm older. Much of my day was spent realizing that I liked babies. My hips and arms actually supported the weight of a rather large mass with huge eyes for quite awhile. "This is green. The key you're eating is green and so are the plants. Green. Your pants are pink and the flower is pink. Pink. This is grating. We grate bread to make bread crumbs, etc." for hours. And I enjoyed it. Maybe my mother can hope that something might eventually come out of my reproductive organs. She can stop throwing her hands in the air and asking "why, why bless me with such daughters who don't want to give me grandchildren. Oi. Oi Gut. The things I live through." At 9 my sister declared she was a lesbian. My family still is shocked when someone somehow discovers I have a boyfriend and announces it the family. Even gentiles are acceptable as long as they go to school. Doctors and computer whizes are especially good owing to the perceived notion that they must know a lot of something and are fairly useful. At weddings the brides throw the bouquet in my direction, which I then carefully sidestep. No one really wants me to get married now or have children until I'm much closer to 30, but I'm still the only one in this age range. The only one to tease. So I bounce babies, make sure the others aren't killing each other, install the Sims and act shy in hopes that no one will bother me in my pretended domesticity. Just let me fix your computers, I have no intentions of going shopping with you. The malls today remind me of the hordes that kill people. Black friday brings out the worse in humankind. Just because we can hate eachother and be materialistic doesn't mean we should. That apparently is the part of the X chromosome I'm missing.
Working Wench Day 11/21: "I know, you love the song but not the singer /
I know, you've got me wrapped around your finger /
I know, you want the sin without the sinner" Placebo
Yeah, it's been awhile, I've been a busy little kitten though. Here are the much anticipated RHPS pics though. I looked better when I wasn't sucking on that lollipop. Really. I swear. So, my life is full of papers and bueracratic nonesense right now. Last night I had this awful nightmare about how I was shopping in this costume store, looking for something a little sexy, and the owner almost captured me into his own sadist world. Meanwhile, instead of rain, all this shredded paper began raining down on my head when I left the store and I knew that the only thin that could save me was a Devi (from I Feel Sick)backpack. Once it stopped raining paper I took a wrong turn in my imaginary Georgetown and ended up in this forrested area. The trees were trying to kill me and Kimmie kept staring at me chainsmoking this insanely long cigarette. She was still alive and blinking, but hanging from one of the angry trees, all whatever like. Anyway, it was odd. Maybe it's because I'm a "dark writer" ;)
What's YOUR Writing Style?
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Walking in Circles Wench Day 11/14: "Fly, I just want to fly /
Life is all mine /
Some days I cry alone, /
But I know I'm not the only one" Lacuna Coil
What do we do when we can't do what used to keep us sane? Maybe I'm relating too much to Devi from JTHM and I Feel Sick (the fact that I relate at all scares me sometimes), but I feel like something important has been drained out of me recently. I'm just tired all the time, no matter how much sleep I might get. Yet, I'm hyper and excited because I'm making so many decisions that scare me. Yesterday was not productive though all the other days have been. Somehow I still have an internship essay to write though and two articles. Also, I'm being locked out of all the classes I need to take. That's not helping.
I used to just crash sometimes and read and avoid people for days. I used to write short angsty stories. I don't really do that as much anymore. Life is all mine and that's what scares the shit out of me. In the past I've tended not to make the best decisions. Somehow I always just fall into things because I don't want to really examine anything. At other times I feel like that's how I'm true to myself though. I'm sure somehow this will all work out. I just wish I knew how *weak smile*
But, I do know that work cannot make a person. As much as I may hate my decisions, they are mine and I have a certain pride in that. This geeky little me can stand up and take the punches. Besides, black and blue are my favorite colors :).
Confused Wench Day: 11/9 "and I'm worrying cause even still /
you sure are pretty /
when you're putting the damage on" Tori Amos
I haven't listened to Tori Amos in years. Somehow all of my doom metal bands seemed to supplant her in the "sad" music category. But, after someone stole a good half of my cds recently I've been flipping through my older ones. And she's still damn good; or at least the earlier albums. It's also odd that I'm listening to what used to be my sort-of break-up album, Boys for Pele. Right now, more people are interested in me than most of the years in my life combined. Things always come in bunches.
Just for everyone's information, I'm doing fine :). Yes, I have a lot of work and a lot of family things and work things and just so many things to work out. But, I like being busy. Though I wouldn't mind having some more time to write again. I admit, I'm horribly jealous of everyone that is participating in the National Novel Month competetion. This is the life that I'm choosing for myself though. Damn, it feels good to say that. These are my mugs I bought with my money, my own food, my own clothes, my own life. Being mostly answerable to yourself can be a huge pain sometimes, however I think it also forces you to *become* yourself. So, grrrrrrrr, here I am in all my neurotic, psycotic, most perky depressive ever glory. I'm a student living in Washington D.C. listening to various kick ass music, reading good books sometimes for lit classes, and writing about important things in a newspaper. Next semester I might even have a job as a *paid* journalist. In high school I dreamed about this. Now I'm here and it's all moving away so fast. Maybe I really am a pisces, but sometimes I can feel the world moving past me and through me. I just absorb what I can from it.
Consumptive Wench Day: 11/5 "Can't you see me? /
I am your long lost best friend /
Please believe me" Rasputina
I am slowly going crazy one two three four fix six switch, six five four three two one crazy going slowly am I...
Where does the work come from? Is there some magical fairy that wades through the war that my room looks like, replacing the dead bodies with assignments? At night do the pages in the books I read suddenly propagate while having hot book sex under my bed? Last night I dreamed I had green hair and a black dress. White roses fell from the heavens like the one that fell into my lap Sunday night. Thank you. I'm sorry that I'm bothering everyone so much about it, but my life is one swirly chaotic mess and so I chase loose ends around and around the mulberry bush with my pockets full of posies to make some sense out of it all. Don't drink airplane water, always listen to your friends and do your readings on time children. These are the lessons I am learning.
Halloween was a wonderful swirl of colors and sugar. For one day of the year I got to play dress up. Same goes for dressing up for the Something Positive Contest. I love you Randy!! Pictures for both soon. People flirt with me when I don't wear much clothing and suck on a lollipop. Lolita wasn't such a bad or innapropriate idea after all...When you're high off of sugar and a costume you no longer care who you are. I can talk to anyone then and be anything. Please Believe Me, I am little liar who tells the truth. I am half fae and dream of things that happen. No wonder I am so frightened all the time. Now if everyone could just stand still. Somehow I always exist in a state that is both not here and very grounded at the same time. This blog entry is basicallyan excersize in how my mind works. Thanks for riding my imagination. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Getting off requires a sacrifice of chocolate and hot tea. Or did I forget to tell you too?
Literary Wench Day: 10/28
I just finished The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende, which is perhaps one of the most beautiful and emotionally involving books I have ever read. It's about a family of women and the lives that surround them for four generations. Maybe it touches me so much because it's about family and those we take in. Maybe because it reminds me of the women in my family and the people who I have made my family.
Tonight I spoke to Nany Nee, my grandmother, on the phone. This last year I have become very close to her. My mother and I had a lot of problems this summer that drove us away from each other out of fear that one of us would leave. So, I spent a fair amount of time with my grandmother. She has this vast basement of stuff. There is an entire McCall's cabinet filled with patterns, mounds of furniture taller and older than I am, old fabric, children's toys, bottles of wine that must be vinegar by now. And I found her old albums. Her and her friends in High School, posing like models on the graves across the street in Brooklyn. Old boyfriends. Her mother going out out to Harlem to dance even on the Sabbath. When we first found out she had cancer I came out and we sewed my sister a costume in less than two days. While I was at work my mother called with the phone number of Nany Nee in the hospital. During break I called her, and she almost cried on the phone. I could hear her voice breaking as she asked me what I was wearing for Halloween and my heart almost broke.
My mother and I had a lot of problems this summer and throughout my teen years. But, when my boyfriend broke up with me she called, and my grandmother called. And now, I'm speaking to my mother more on a regular basis than I have since I was 13. All of this pain brings us together. No one is allowed to hurt us, except ourselves, as another friend put it. As I write this I can hear my mother, grandmother, Aunt Shirley, and I flipping through that album this summer. Discussing boys in our lives from such different times as if they were all still there.
I am so lucky, not only do I have these people in my life, but my friends. In High School, none of us trusted out parents much. None of them really understood. So we banded together in our RPG worlds and story worlds that we could talk about at the dinner as easily as our own present troubles. These people became family. Over time we even joked about older sisters and brothers. Once we tried to map out how we would all be related if these nicknames were true, and it was impossibly complicated because we were all tied together too much. Love and understanding is a gift I am only now understanding and I am sure that I can only see the tip of it. How people adopt each other and form bonds that are stronger than family and how family can form those bonds even though they have entire lives worth of pent up frustration to get over amazes me. People have such a capacity to love and to help others. We need to see it though all the time; not just when we are upset. I love you all. I thank you all. And my spirit soars out into all of your hearts and your stories, so intertwined. "Memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationships between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously" Isabelle Allende.
Rocky Wench Day: 10/26 "I don't want anybody else / When I think about you I shoot myself" Justin walking back from Rocky
Well, Rocky Horror Picture Show rocked. Apparently with my hair in pigtails I look like a 12-year-old whore. What's sad, is that I think I look pretty good like this. 12 of us went and we got all our virgins to go up, yelled a whole lot of things and had coffee afterwards. All in all, a good night, definatly going again on Thursday.
Today has been almost like a mini-vacation for me. I visited my Uncle in suburban MD. Sometimes I forget that there is life outside this city around me. There is green grass and trees with red leaves.
As I walked to the Metro station I walked by the Japanese embassy where a lot of yellow leaves are falling. They smelt like death. A old man died in one of our apartments once when I was younger and no one knew until this sickeningly sweet smell came over the building. I was so young that I have no idea why I remember it. But, that's what the leaves smelt like. It made me think of my grandmother, or maybe thinking about my grandmother made me think of the smell. She has cancer. They thought they took it out through surgery, but it spread to her lungs. Last year my friend's mother Norma died after years of battelling cancer. I remember talking to her about it as all the guys played games. We played time splitters a lot and she talked about religion to the sound of bricks hitting aliens' skulls. Since I was the only girl I guess I tended to talk to her a lot more than play the game. The year before that my uncle died of cancer. He was in so much pain.
My grandmother is convinced she will die of cancer. Her mother did. She's very cheerful right now, but I remember her saying that. I wonder if I will die that way. If my own body will finally reject me to that degree. It's just like now I keep talking to people, and as I talk I feel a pain shiver down into my body, down to my toes and out again. It's as if I'm a goldfish who can't remember what hurts her. But, I need to talk to these people at the same time. Because that makes me get over myself. That makes me keep moving. Dodge and weave, stay in the sark corners of your self. Linger on the scent of leaves and then move on into the twinkling lights of the metro like fairy lights. Tonight I won at metro bingo. I concentrated my chi, and felt the wind through past me and the doors opened before me. I kept walking.
Literary Wench Day: 10/23 added a story to Writings called Reaccounting, it's in the realistic section. Check it out and tell me what you think :).
Sexy Wench Day: 10/21 "living is easy when it's night /
the cold has covered the rain /
I can see forever, to the deep /
wrapped in cold, late at night" Moby
I've written a lot about sex today. An article on college use of porn on the Internet and now a dialoggue between Hamlet and Ophelia. He would have married her if she hadn't slept with him. Sometimes I wonder if that applies to my current situation. Then I push that fact far into the depths of my mind where I am not beautiful, intelligent, or thin enough. When I think of my mind, I imagine vast stacks of filing cabinets stacked on top of each other. Some sections are dusty, like math, and others are shimmery and new, like how to write in proper AP style. In other sections the file cabinets mysteriously merge together or lock, because those are my emotions. Right now, I have chairs jammed against the negative self-image cabinet. Unfortunatly, I seem to be blocking the grammar one too, which caused my grades to plummet.
Back to sex though. Somehow, I seem to have accumulated more experience in this area than most people around me. Often, this makes me uncomfortable. Am I really that much of a slut? So I externalize it. I wear see-through lace shirts to Rocky Horror Picture Show to validate myself. I assure myself that I am not a slut. Often though, I am also suprised by how people feel about sex. That losing their virginity was such a big deal or is. To me it's something that happened, like the first flower a guy gave me, or a first date. I don't recall feeling emotionally any different afterwards. My relationship didn't even change with the person who I was dating at the time. Sometime, a few years ago I found myself deeply depressed. I drank, I smoked and I fucked or made out with anyone who hit on me. It was a way to make sure I still could feel. Let me tell you, I have had sex with virgins, I have had sex with people who have had sex with more people than I really want to think about, and it's always better when there's love or like. Friends with benefits doesn't even really cut it.
When you love or really like someone, you don't matter. You think of them, you want to please them. When they're happy this glow spreads throughout your body. Just feeling their breath against the nape of your neck and their heat against the small of your back is enough to make you amazed at life. How can such a wonderful thing exist? And you know it's fragile deep down. That at some point, someone will say something and it will end. There will be pain and tears and you will want to die because you are so afraid that you will never feel that again. But, that makes it more beautiful. Those breaths are like perfect snowflakes before they melt away into your hand. Eventually you only remember the momentary beauty and not the burning cold as it melted away. Momentary beauty is what keeps me alive, keeps my love for the world live. It is more than orgasm, it is more than sex, it is more than intimacy. Perhaps, it is the only reason we are alive. All that pain...for a moment of beauty.
Thoughtful Wench Day: 10/19"I want to hold air in my hand /
Own the one thing you can't buy /
Nothing to win, nothing to lose /
I'm gonna run from everything /
Everything that holds me down /
Nothing to win, nothing to lose /
It's time to be what I need to be" VAST
Recently, I've forgotten how to eat or how to sleep because I've been so wrapped up in life. I am a passionate person. When I love someone I love them to death, when I cry, I do it for hours. But, people are only a part of this. At 8 am Friday I came out of the metro station and saw the most blue sky. The air was crisp and the leaves almost had a halo around them. Coming out of that dark tunnel, I almost felt like I was being born again. And I realized, that this sorrow will always be with me; this happiness will always be with me.
I never stop loving people, I never want to see anyone hurt. My friends need to curse my ex-boyfriends/girlrfiends for me. I can love the grey sky and the blue sky at the same time. I can love a person one way and then love them in another. It just takes time to adjust. To stop seeing them everywhere.
Not only am I passionate, I am imaginative. I see things where they aren't there. Once when I was 13 I saw a unicorn in a glen, simply because I thought it would look perfect that way. When I sleep at night, I imagine someone holding me and keeping me safe. When I right a story I can see the people talking to me in my head. Books become movies, and real stories become so much more.
Change requires me to move all of my images around. Maybe I live in a fantasy world. Or maybe I just live in an accentuated version of this one. But, I love everything in it. Even the things that hurt.
Crying Wench Day: 10/17 I lost something and I want it back. Even though I've fallen apart I still love it. Amazing. I'm still trying to stop crying. Thank you Justin. Thank you Chris.
Naked Wench Day: 10/14 Opeth instumentals
Here they are, the much anticipated what type of porn character am I results:
3 teacher
3 librarian
3 dominatrix
2 catwoman
2 girl next door
2 goth schoolgirl
1 rollergirl
1 cheerleader
1 secretary
1 schoolgirl
1 stewardess
1 pizza delivery girl
If you want to vote, just send me a line!
Contemplative Wench Day: 10/10 "All we ever wanted was everything" Bauhaus
Colors are amazing. For awhile I only wore black. It just kind of happened. It was comfortable. I could relate to Masha from "The Seagull" because at times I felt like I *was* in mourning for my life. Every year for the last five years I've been to the funeral of someone close to be. Every year for the last five years I've been on crutches.
The red of tomato sauce and crumbled feta cheese on a white bowl in front of a red Lacuna Coil poster where the singer's face is painted white. The red lettering on my Yami no Matsuei book. The yellow of Watari's hair. The green and white and brown at the tips of my spider plant. And again, the red of the pot it resides in. Blue dragons floating across my white mug. The greyish color of my printer, which is almost the same grey as the cloudy sky outisde. These things are beautiful. I'm glad I can see them.
I am a very passionate person. Although I have generally considered this as a curse; there are positive aspects. It allows me to truly wonder how wonderful it is that tree leaves can be bigger than me. That orchids can smell nice and be so, so purple. That cacti can look like roses. Sometimes these things are better than the larger pleasures in life because they seem so crisp and clear in my mind. It is the small things that really keep us going.
Dressed Up Wench Day: 10/5 And not in *that* way.
"You can't take anything with you /
Except the love /
The love I have for you" VAST
Here I am sitting in a purplish, satiny, strapless dress. It's elegant I supposed. And I'm totally freaked. I'm the girl who didn't go to her own prom. It's too long even in my five inch heels and omg my boobs are soo not big enough to hold up a strapless. The girls next door, rach., and becky, all informed me I looked amazing. But, I just can't see it. I see a scared girl wearing this....thing. What kind of girl am I? Aren't we supposed to want to look beautiful and like princesses. All I want to do is run. I mean I can accept myself as pretty. Today, my mom took me to the MD Renn. Faire and I looked pretty good. Hell, at the NJ Faire I got a completely random guy to buy me a rose, so I can't look that bad. Somehow this is different. It's as if some other girl has taken over my body. She's going to stand there and look pretty and turn into ice as the dress falls down and reveals her for the ice statue that she is. This is not me. This is so far from me. And it bothers me that this bothers me. It's a beautiful, elegant dress. And it scares me shitless.
Working Wench Day: 10/1"I'm very angry / get me something to eat / I'm getting angry / destroy everything" - Shonen Knife
Where is the line between self-sacrifice and responsibility? This last week has been hell, I don't know what I want or where I even am anymore. But, I'm tired of whining and I'm tired of bitching and breaking down into tears everytime I work on this paper. At 5pm on Thursday it will all be over. No paper, no exams. I can breathe and sleep. Maybe my body will stop hating me then. Maybe I'll be able to sleep without nightmares.
Lost Wench Day: 9/29 "Ground control to Major Tom" David Bowie
Are we like water glasses? Where there is only so much energy, love, happiness, in us before we pour it out? Or are we like the ocean which is continually refilled, though sometimes lower than other times. Are we all full of love like Bjork says? I wish I knew because either I could give up or wait until life fills me up again.
Lost Wench Day: 9/28 "Someone shot nostalgia in the back /
Someone shot our innocence" Bauhaus
"And now the beat inside of me /
is a sort of a cold breeze and I've /
never any feeling inside /
around me… /
I bring my body /
carry it into another world /
I know I live… but like a stone I'm falling down" Lacuna Coil
I'm making a playlist, maybe it'll turn into a cd. This is what I do when I can't do anything else. Music means so much to me now because it expresses what I can't say in just words. The last week, was just hell physically and mentally. I'm still reeling and trying to figure out where I stand with my life. So instead of trying to explain in my own useless words, here's my playlist so far: Falling - Lacuna Coil, To Myself I Turn - Lacuna Coil, Piece of My Heart - Janis Joplin, Summertime - Janis Joplin, All We Ever Wanted Was Everything - Bauhaus, Who Killed Mr. Moonlight - Bauhaus, Anything Anything - Dramarama, The Last Unicorn - America, Rebel Yell - Billy Idol, All is Full of Love - Bjork, Space Oddity - David Bowie, Stella Maris - Einsturzene Neubaten, Teargas - Katatonia, The Saddest Song - Morphine, Motion Picture Soundtrack - Radiohead, For My Fallen Angel - Paradise Lost, The New Zero - Rasputina, Boys Don't Cry - The Cure, Crazy Sunshine - The Pillows, Bittersweet Symphony - The Verve, Missing You - Slowdive, So Tired - Slowdive, Thorns Distant Vocals Version - Wumpscut, Kiss My Disease - Virgo's Merlot, and I'm sure some Anathema will make it on there :).
Sick Wench Day: 9/24 Listening to people on the quad.
I can't stop worrying aboutall the work, but mentally I know that in the end I can get it all done.
Unsure Wench Day: 9/19"Worshipping a system/
I just don't believe" VAST
Buy food, clean, think of Audrey Hepburn so as to stay skinny for the bridesmaid dress, water plants, write an article, do two interviews, go to class, prepare a presentation, defend a budget, love, forgive others, forgive myself, see the beauty in things, sleep. Yet, I'm still waiting for something.
Legarthic Wench Day: 9/18 "Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life/ Trying to make ends meet, try to find somebody then you die. /
You know I can change, I can change, I can change, /
but I'm here in my mould, I am here in my mould.-The Verve
So, I made this lovely new frontpage combinging this and the main page using dreamweaver. And Fcpages fucked it up. That and their insane amount of new pop-ups. So, I'm looking to switch. Since I don't really update the dream diary or the stories anymore all that much I might switch to blogger. That, and the lovely and wonderful Bridget said she might host me. At least my website is small and compactable. We're working on me. ;)
But, yeah, that's why the main page looks the way it does. I might put the general gist of what I wanted to do on the main page soon. We'll see. I have so much work, well I always do, but tonight I'm legarthic. I'm not sure what I want to do, though it certainly isn't this. I'm reading Frankenstein, which is totally different than what I thought it was. But, he reminds me of myself sometimes. He learns about life and language by observing a fallen noble family. At times, I simply sit back and observe humanity and wonder, do I act that way? Do I dislike people because of the way they look? And, sometimes I do, we all do and that really bothers me. Frankenstein becomes angry, and I can understand why. I vacillitate between being Frankenstein and his creator. The horror that controls his master and his master who never really meant to create him.
Confused Plant Day: 9/16 My room is actually quiet...so here's a quiz I took.
Dead Plants Day 9/14:And time is speeding by/ The transience of life/
Those wasted moments won't return/
And we will never feel again. -Anathema
I'm an awful daughter. By the end of every conversation with my mother I want to kill something. I love her, but there is something about talking to her that makes me see the uselessness in life. After an hour on the phone I look outside and see nothing. A lot of people walking around who will just get married and worry about their kids' friends, then die. I know we all help other people, we all connect. But, fuck, I still miss the point half the time.
There are christmas lights in my dorm room and I can see them reflected in my window. They reflect onto people's faces, into the trees, and into the sky. I wish on them sometimes. They're the first stars I see every night. And I want to retreat into them; into their artificial happiness. Then the jack'o'latern lights just laugh at me. Because what good is being artificially happy, when you know it's not real?
Dead Plants Day 9/8: Morning has broken and what do I see
Those same bloody fingerprints following me. So it's
Backwards and forward and back again twice it don't
pay to be thankful don't pay to be nice. I don't
Think i'll try it again.-Rasputina "Endomorph"
Constantine died. I'm so busy that I can't even start my work these days so I try to lose myself instead in someone's eyes or in my cups. One is just a more pleasant denial of reality than the other. Bridget, my roomate, is sick, and MasterofUnlocking is sick, and empres6 is sick so I'm bound to get sick too. The problem seems to be though that I'm already sick of everything. Lying in my bed in a drug induced haze isn't sounding too bad anymore. What kind of way is this to start a new year?
Someone told me last night that everyone gets hurt in any relationship eventually, it's just a matter of how good things are until then. I don't want to believe this. But, it's all I know. I'm used to at least knowing what people want from me, why they're with me. Whether they want an article by Thursday or sex, at least I know then. What do you do when you don't know? When you're happy?
The only way I can "live in the moment" and be happy is through denial and that doesn't work anymore. My lack of a 30 hr day becomes more apparent as I look at the things growing on my to-do list. Happiness is a way of looking at "reality" and not seeing the negative possibilities all the time; or not seeing the negative past context. But, isn't that then a denial of the whole picture? Depression works the same way. A medium isn't happy, it's possibly the only balanced view we can get as people. It's hard to be balanced because we've never started that way. For me learning balance is like describing the color red to someone blind from birth. It's something you just have to figure out before you become subsummed by life.
