well… things are down to a dull roar so far as the tummy is concerned. what follows may be slightly graphic, so if you’re the queasy type… you may want to skip this one. (or at least the part at the beginning).

up all night with stomach ? and dopey from lack of sleep. thought i was going to go to bed like a good girl so i would be in good shape for the weekend. looks instead like i’m going to be spending it either in bed or hugging the altar of the toilet gods. thought it was indigestion, but it’s settled into my stomach like a damn brick. ugh. hurts. and i can’t keep anything down. :( back to bed for now. setting alarm for doctor’s office hours. here’s to hoping it’s a quick fix.

karma or just weirdness, i can’t tell which… but suddenly, the superdrive in this mac is… working. needless to say, i’m installing iLife hurry up quick. won’t get to play with it tonight… but the weekend cometh! hrm. wonder if i can get another install out of it tonight. (toddling off with a thoughtful look)

“I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.” – Augusten Burroughs “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” – Saint Bernard of Clairvaux Explains so much. Second Life tonight, methinks.

you ever notice how most misunderstandings come because someone fears a thing and, when there is some manner of miscommunication in play, will always leap to the conclusion most feared?

i admit it. freely. i’m hooked.

what a difference a dollop of deliberation makes!

the mystery emailer is back. but this time, i was prepared.

surprise, surprise… science is finding support for the notion that some people actually DO feel the pain of others. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19277131/ admittedly, it is somewhat sad that it remains classified as ‘extreme’ (connotation: wrong, abnormal, somehow improper). an admission you won’t hear me make often — among the many reason i stay solitary is this. long stories and most would not be believed. suffice to say, in relation to the above…. ‘duuuuuh.’ time to sleep. if i can. =/

a place where tender things grow, a desk with a calendar where weeks are marked in spattered red, mumbles and moans as i try to decide how to take the next breath. borrowing hope at unspeakable interest, trying to see sunrise.